Rumbling, rumbling...
The skies opened, and icy rain poured down, washing away the thick scent of blood.
A pale figure shimmered brightly, like stardust cascading from the night sky.
Li Che emitted a gentle radiance, his eyes filled with tender care as he extended his hand, lightly placing it on Xi Xi's little head.
Within the illusion realm shaped by Dao Yun, Xi Xi's form was only that of a one-year-old—small, delicate, and exquisite.
In Li Che's memory, the vision of Xi Xi being this small was already distant, a fragment buried in time.
But this time, through the will conveyed by the Flying Thunder Chess Piece, Li Che found himself seeing Xi Xi as a child once again.
Sitting cross-legged on the ground, Xi Xi lifted her head as though reaching toward the light.
Her pupils, black as ink, were like an unfathomably deep pool, as if they could pull one's very soul into their depths.
Li Che gazed calmly at her, meeting her intense stare.
Xi Xi's eyes began to ripple.