The evening breeze swept in, settling over the man’s form. A black robe swayed lightly with the wind — deviant, cold, ghostly in its presence, yet possessed of a transcendent, singular elegance.

Feng Jiu’er, slung over the black-clad man’s shoulder, opened her eyes a crack, and what she saw was that silhouette.

He was very tall, slender and upright. A bone-deep chill radiated from his entire being, yet it carried with it the natural bearing of a sovereign.

Given her current position — head hanging down — she could only look upward from his feet.

The wind billowed open his robe, and the black inner garment beneath clearly traced the outline of a physique with no rival under heaven. Two legs of the most ideal proportions rose magnificently in the night, carrying with them an intoxicating allure that could easily drive women to madness.

Further up — that lean, powerful waist, those broad and solid shoulders and chest, enough to bewitch any soul beyond all redemption.

Further still— wait, he was wearing a half-mask! More than half his face was completely hidden!

And yet, even so — with only the half of his face left exposed, it was not difficult to see that this man was unquestionably a beauty of one in ten thousand, the kind that was stunning beyond measure, supremely handsome and striking.

A beauty like this nearly struck Feng Jiu’er senseless. She almost forgot entirely to keep pretending she was unconscious.

“Who are you? How dare you block my path!” Though the black-clad man’s expression remained unchanged, his voice, when he spoke, shifted ever so slightly in pitch.

It was because the pressure the figure before him exuded was too overwhelming — so overwhelming that even his breath seemed on the verge of turning chaotic.

Feng Jiu’er very quickly felt the same pressure on her own breathing. The internal energy of that incomparably beautiful man was so profound and vast that without even making a single move, he had already sent his enemy’s blood and qi into turmoil.

A wave of disordered energy roiled within her chest. Right then, even without being drugged unconscious, Feng Jiu’er nearly truly fainted.

What terrifying internal energy — as mighty and fathomless as a vast ocean.

“You—” The black-clad man’s legs suddenly buckled, and with a heavy thud, he dropped to his knees. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his lips.

Not a single move had been exchanged, and he had already been defeated.

“You are… the Venerable Lord… Di Wu Ya.”

Those were the last words the black-clad man spoke before losing consciousness.

As for Feng Jiu’er — the moment the man fell unconscious, she was thrown down without mercy.

Her four limbs had been locked in place by Di Wu Ya’s internal energy, unable to move even a fraction. She could see it clearly — she was about to land face-first!

Feng Jiu’er instinctively squeezed her eyes shut. This face of hers was already ugly enough as it was. To add a face-first fall on top of it — ugly piled upon ugly.

“Mm—” She had braced herself for the pain of hitting the ground, but unexpectedly, a rushing wind swept in.

When she opened her eyes again, she had fallen into a pair of broad, strong arms.

The legendary Venerable Lord Di Wu Ya held her — her entire body limp and without strength — and moved forward through the night.

Moonlight fell upon his face. The half-mask glimmered with a pale, cold silver gleam, set against the other half of his face, which was devastatingly, incomparably beautiful. Such a beauty was unmatched in all the world.

“On the brink of death, and still enchanted by beauty.” The man gave a faint, indifferent snort.

His voice was husky, enough to disguise its true quality — but even in its huskiness, it was extraordinarily pleasing to the ear.

Had those words not been so cutting, Feng Jiu’er would surely have been enchanted all over again simply by the sound of his voice.

But he said she was enchanted by beauty?

Her brows knitted together at once, and she replied in displeasure: “Appetite for food and attraction to beauty are both in human nature. Is even glancing twice not permitted?”

He paused in his step, lowered his head to look at her, and a complex light passed through those eyes cold as a glacier: “Truly unafraid of death?”

“If you wanted to kill me, why bother saving me?”

Though Feng Jiu’er spoke these words lightly, her hands were already feeling around at her waist.

Di Wu Ya gave a cold scoff: “Truly unafraid of death — and yet still trying to reach for your silver needles?”

With a casual flick of his hand, several flashes of silver glimmered between his fingers.

He had confiscated her silver needles — her only means of saving herself.