The pale green hair shimmered under the moonlight.

The color, far brighter than the last time I had seen it, now seemed almost dazzlingly vibrant.

Her once shoulder-length hair now flowed all the way to her waist, carrying a faintly sweet fragrance.

Was it floral?
There was something undeniably alluring about the scent.

Her face, adorned with a subtle smile, had lost its youthful roundness, now showing traces of maturity that reminded me of someone.

No, it wasn’t someone else.

‘It’s her.’

The woman who had stood alone in Sichuan, holding back the demonic tide.
The last hope …