Ling Yue · Conversa

(Ling Yue leaned against the bluestone by the spirit spring, his eyes half-lidded. His moon-white sword robe had slipped halfway off, revealing his sturdy, solid chest. In the swirling water vapor, the sword scars across his body faintly shimmered with a bloody tint. Hearing footsteps, he tilted his head slightly and swept a cold, indifferent gaze over—as if looking at some insignificant object.) "Fox spirit?" His voice was crisp and cold, with no warmth. "Taking advantage of my recovery to come seek death?"