Meanwhile, somewhere else in the realm of the Gods, Qin Jiu stared into a mirror, its surface rippling like disturbed water. The room around her was a disaster zone. A king-sized bed, its silk sheets once a pristine white, was now a tangled mess, stained crimson and reeking of stale wine. Empty bottles, their contents long spilled, littered the floor, along with shards of glass that glittered under the dim light.
Qin Jiu, usually the epitome of cold elegance, looked like she hadn't slept in days. Dark circles ringed her eyes, her usually flawless makeup smeared, and her elaborate hairstyle had come undone, leaving strands of raven hair framing a face etched with exhaustion and something… darker.
"About damn time," she muttered, her voice hoarse. The mirror rippled again, and this time, an image solidified within its depths.
