The drum sound just now was unmistakably the attack of Sword Qi on the drum, its reverberations lingering, revealing the woman’s profound mastery of the art of swordsmanship.
Before the audience could applaud, a wind arose with the swords, and the slender, outstanding figure turned, the snow-white hem of her garnt spinning with her, rising against the wind like a white crane soaring through the clouds.
When the frost-colored sword flowers spun, they were like grasping the clouds of the sky; the Sword Qi struck the drum with a sound like sands of the vast sea, overwhelming the land of Sky Cloud, vast and boundless, at first as a silent drizzle moistening everything, then gradually becoming colder and more intense, washing away the dust of the Mortal World in an overnight rain.
The continuous drum sound flowed ceaselessly, with endless sword cries striving to rest; as the music stopped, but the echoes did not, rising and falling, the last notes twined persistently like threads from a lotus root.
It was like listening to a fine rain that cleansed the Mortal World.
Such sounds of sword and drum, in a mont, brought forth countless claps and exclamations of admiration.
Even Baili An, who was originally indifferent to singing, dancing, and music, couldn’t help but have his gaze drawn over.
The reason, however, was not the enthralling dance itself, but those black flowing locks of the Demon Clan woman... brandishing a pair of snow-white adorable rabbit ears.
In the eyes of everyone else, the appearance of rabbit ears in the Demon World is not strange, where demonesses and witches abound with fox ears, cat ears, dog ears, and rabbit ears being too commonplace.
But for Baili An, these ears, he could not be more familiar with.
A powerful Demon General from the ranks of Prison Law of Mohe abruptly stood up and left his seat.
Intoxicated by wine or by so other cause, his face was flushed red, and his slightly bloodshot eyes seed to smolder with fire.
He actually disregarded all decorum, stepping forward with bold strides, looking unashadly at that figure as pure as the bright moon, his mouth slightly raised, his tone undeniably domineering, "Good! This sword dance is magnificent, co have a drink with !"
Seeing that rake’s deanor, it was obvious he intended to scoop her up and force her to drink at his table.
The woman in white turned her head slightly, and from beneath the half-turned mask, a pair of clear, cold eyes, sharp as frost-covered snow, prepared to draw the longsword at her back.
Her intent to refuse couldn’t have been clearer.
The high-ranking Prison Law Demon General clearly hadn’t expected that his object of fancy would be so ungrateful for his attention.
A cold, sinister smile erged in the depths of his eyes, and his glowing hand, the color of which suddenly darkened and deepened, looked as if it had undergone a thousand tempering processes, akin to refined iron.
As the first-ranked Demon General of Prison Law, his power had long since crossed the threshold of the Tribulation Realm. Although the woman’s swordsmanship was exquisite, if we talk about cultivation, she was still a step away from the Tribulation Realm.
This one step was, in reality, a thousand miles.
Relying on the sheer force of physical strength, he could scatter her ’sword body’ soul with a casual punch.
The dark green iron fist collided with the Cold Sword, shattering the longsword in the woman’s hand. The Demon General was about to sneer triumphantly and capture her, but when he tried to grasp her, it was like seizing an illusion, slipping through his fingers.
His face turned cold, his Divine Sense biting down on the elusive breath, his body imdiately giving chase.
As the misty and chilly figure retreated swiftly, there was ultimately too great a disparity between their Cultivation Realms. She had nowhere left to retreat, bumping her shins clumsily against the table in front of Baili An.
The small rabbit on his plate scattered in all directions as if struck, and she seed to lose her strength, falling backward.
Baili An reacted quickly, rising to his feet before the Female Demon Lord’s face could turn cold, catching the delicate, boneless waist of the woman in white.
At the sa ti, he gave the approaching Prison Law Demon General man a faint glance.
The man’s aggressive movents stopped abruptly; although he was extrely unwilling in his heart, he didn’t dare act rashly in front of Mohe.
He had to dissipate the montum from his fist, and with considerable grievance, he respectfully said, "Sir, this woman was the one I took interest in first."
There’s never been a rule about first co, first served in the Demon World. His words were essentially a warning: Now that you belong to the Demon Lord, shouldn’t you follow the rules and not compete with your subordinates for won?
Yet Baili An was not swayed by such an argunt, holding the woman in one arm and looking down to et the eyes beneath her mask.
That last battle, she seed at a great disadvantage due to insufficient cultivation, evading in disarray.
But at that mont, Baili An saw not a hint of panic in those eyes, dark as the night and covered with a veneer of frost, as if a breeze could whisk them away without a trace.
Such eyes, and such ears.
Baili An could not help but smile helplessly, never imagining he would et her in such a manner.
He picked up a cup of clear wine from the table, offering it to her, and said in a calm tone to the Demon General, "If she drinks my wine, then whether you saw her first or not, it no longer concerns you."
The Demon General’s face imdiately turned an even deeper shade of red, "Are you acting in this manner as the Demon Lord’s Royal Consort?"
The Female Demon Lord’s face looked terrible, but she did not speak.
Baili An gently pushed the mask up a bit with his finger, revealing only a pair of attractive thin lips, brought the cup close, and those tightly pursed lips obediently opened to let him feed her the drink.
In response to the Demon General’s question, he took on the airs of a libertine, and after she had drunk, his fingertip traced the line of wine slipping from her lips, slowly licking the wine from his fingertip, then smiling back at the man and said, "What concern is it of yours?"
Perhaps the gesture was too intimate. The hand resting on his shoulder suddenly tensed a little. Her gaze fell on his lips, her pupils deep and inscrutable, her emotions unpredictable.
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