Watching Bao Yun in her sleep, still looking so tense, Wei Yuan suddenly felt a twinge of guilt. Given her talent, reaching the Imperial realm should not be a problem, and at only nineteen, Bao Yun still had thousands of years of a long life ahead of her as a Cultivator.
Extraordinary talent and an elite family background should have ensured Bao Yun a smooth sail into the Dharma Image realm under her family's arrangements, gradually accumulating Merit, connections, and reputation, before finding the right opportunity to break through to the Imperial realm and steadily become a well-known Cultivator of her generation.
But because of Wei Yuan, Bao Yun's life now was filled with preparing for battle, war, and then preparing again, war again. A girl not even twenty, her life was saturated with bloodshed and killing, and ceaseless exhaustion.
Wei Yuan sighed inwardly, and lightly caressed Bao Yun's face.
