This night, Hu Die was in the next room, holding Little Moon and sleeping soundly.
Meanwhile, Lin Xiaosu lay on the bed, his eyes wide open staring at the ceiling.
Moon Spirit Saintess...
Yixiang!
He now had a second portrait.
The first portrait came from the taxi driver who had brought him here; in the driver's eyes, Yixiang was enveloped in a holy radiance.
The second portrait came from Hu Die.
In just a few words, Hu Die sketched a completely different image of the Moon Spirit Saintess.
A bamboo flute capable of controlling a mountain full of poisonous insects and fierce beasts, a family with deep scholarly knowledge and twenty years of practice in witchcraft and poisonous insect technique, a person not to be judged by ordinary standards.
Is this saintess, still the one radiating holy brightness?
Isn't it clearly mixed with three parts mystery, nine parts power, ten parts danger?
