Inside the Warlord's Palace!
"Rustle ~~"
A cold wind slipped through the suffocating dark, caressing skin like a lover with icy hands.
A man was on top of a woman. His weight pinning her down. Her hands braced against his chest. Their stained clothes hugging tightly, damp with sweat, blood, and who-knows-what else.
Blood pooled between her legs.
Or rather… beneath them, seeping from the floor itself—muddy, sticky, and thick with the stench of iron and rot.
Zhu Qing's face was a storm cloud. Wet. Filthy. Pinned by a smirking fool whose breath was far too close to hers. And this fool? He was still grinning like they'd just rolled out of bed after a night of passion instead of crashing into this gods-forsaken death pit.
They didn't even know when—or if—they'd die here.
And he thought this was the time to joke?
