Mingyue turned away, showing no interest in conversing with him: "When we reach land, you're on your own."
The young man pursed his lips, glanced at the retreating figure, his eyes filled with confusion, and a hint of admiration he hadn't realized.
The person's long hair was tied high, the hairband fluttering, her tall and slender figure exuded a heroic spirit, perfectly concealing the feminine grace, standing against the wind, amidst the vast world, and boundless sea, that figure alone seemed to possess an indomitable fortitude.
That ambiguous charisma, the cool and resolute silhouette, like poppies, emitted a deadly allure that made one unknowingly immerse in it.
He still remembered before losing consciousness, she merely waved her hand lightly, and those assassins, like lingering spirits, were instantly sent flying like broken kites.
He could never forget the pair of eyes that looked over just before he lost consciousness.
From then on, they were imprinted in his heart.
