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Mist's expression changed when he saw the powder, and he hurriedly checked Yan Jingchen's pulse. Seizing the opportunity, Meng Fuyao bolted out of the cellar, kicked away the two Mystic Essence Sect disciples who were guarding the entrance and dashed away.

But she clashed right into another person.

A strong, elegant scent of a peony wafted into her nose, and her forehead came into contact with a soft and smooth silk clothing.

Life was indeed full of coincidences.

While Meng Fuyao was still buried in that aromatic hug, she did not even raise her head and immediately stabbed towards that person.

A black beam of light shone and immediately disappeared.

Simultaneously, a mouthful of blood was spat out, and the blood flew away in the darkness of the night.

Pei Yuan held her ribcage and staggered backward, her red clothes dyed with a large patch of blood.