"Hah..."
As Jiang Xinyue's figure disappeared before her eyes, Vishdair let out a long sigh of relief—after relaxing, a sharp feeling, both familiar and strange, surged in her heart.
It was the pain from the wounds on her body.
At this moment, her snow-white slender arms were covered with scars, some deep enough to reach the bone, and her hands were utterly wrecked, not a patch of uninjured skin remained.
But for a Sakaz mercenary accustomed to living by the blade, it was entirely within her endurance range.
However, the silver-haired girl suddenly realized something, turned her head, and looked beside her, a hint of worry flashed in her eyes.
The young man stood there, his upper body a mass of black and red, dried blood scabs merged with his clothes, a frightful sight.
The silver-haired girl looked at him, raised her hand, unsure of where to begin: "Hey, are you okay?"
"Big brother!! Big sister!!"
