Xin Yun was listening to the Wine Immortal when she suddenly lifted a hand and gathered every trace of chill in the room. With speed too quick for the eye to follow, she stowed the scroll she was holding, then kicked the room’s only plant—freshly frozen to death—under the bed, pot and corpse together.
In the blink of an eye, she had cleaned up all the damage caused by her recent loss of control.
“Your precious disciple is here?”
Other than herself, the Wine Immortal could not imagine anyone else who could make her martial niece bow her head...
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