"Lucky guess."
"…"
Zhu Qing rolled her eyes. A slow curl of her lips. Sharp. Mocking.
This brat… Su Xiaobai didn't even know how to properly refine Qi, yet here he stood, acting like the heavens owed him a favor. Amusing? Sure. Useful? Rarely. To think he might one day surpass her? Bitter. Laughable. Infuriating.
"Let's hope your guess doesn't get us both killed," she muttered, dipping her hand into the fountain.
Splash~! The blood was thick. Warm. Sticky. It stuck to her fingers, refusing to let go... Sliding between them like a drunken lover, insistent and messy.
Her lips twisted in disgust.
She smeared the blood onto the door's veins—carved ridges that snaked across black stone, coiled and intricate like something alive.
"Come on…" she breathed, voice dropping. Her palm moved, slow and deliberate. A tease. A coax. "Open up for me."
Nothing.
The veins stayed cold. Dark.
