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Two ethereal figures, each a vision of grace, crossed into this realm.
One, with silver hair and crimson makeup, had cold white eyes and skin fairer than snow, exuding an air pure and untarnished as that of an ancient tomb ghost.
The other, delicate and supple, bore a naive and cute expression, draped in white clothes, her smooth bare feet stepping on wooden clogs, her face adorned with a playful smile, like the girl next door—seemingly ordinary at first glance, but upon closer examination... cough, Yi Lin didn't have time to examine.
"Pop."
Yi Lin, expressionless, immediately stuffed the two female phantoms back.
That's not right.
Yi Lin frowned deeply.
In that moment, a strong sense of dissonance inexplicably arose from the depths of his heart.
"The style... it's not right."
Indeed.
Why would there be such a sense of dissonance?
Because the two women who had emerged from the "Divine Sword" were mismatched in style—both of them drastically.