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... dance outside the house.

The strong cold current sliced through the heavens and earth like a steel knife, never ceasing its mournful howl.

Zhang Yunwu discarded the bloody axe, and with a limp leg, he blundered open the frozen window sashes, allowing the piercingly cold wind to assail his bedridden, withered old mother on the bed.

In a corner of the room, his wife's body was gradually growing cold.

The torn and tattered clothes outlined her enchanting curves.

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“You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…”

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His eyes locked on hers and she couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe.

She had met her One. And he was the son of her bloodsworn enemy.

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