"Mother, I'm going!"
Cheng Qingxue got out of the carriage excitedly.
Her face had healed and she no longer needed to wear a veil. Her beautiful face appeared at the entrance of the Holy Maiden Temple, which was filled with people. She was outstanding enough.
Many young ladies who came to participate in the election surrounded her.
"Miss Cheng, you're here."
"We've been waiting for you for a long time. We just want to see the next Saintess."
Cheng Qingxue maintained a posture of humilty. "You must be joking. The Holy Selection hasn't even begun. How did I become the next Saintess?"
"Who doesn't know that the position of the Saintess has long been yours, Qingxue? We're not here to covet the position of the Saintess, but to be chosen to be a disciple of the Holy Maiden Temple."
