The next day.
At dawn, in the top-floor gymnasium of the Lingxiao Palace spanning three hundred square meters, central air conditioning kept the room temperature steady at 25 degrees Celsius. The walls flickered with electronic flame screensavers while the sound system embedded in the floor and walls played sharp white noise.
Zhao Ling sat cross-legged, facing east, her upper body bare and her lower body clad in tight-fitting sports leggings that reached her thighs, her feet bare.
Her back muscles had a complex contour, with bundles of muscles intertwined among which coiled a blue dragon, sprawling across both scapulae, its head raised toward her left shoulder and its tail whipping toward her right.
On her protruding spine, six injection holes were faintly visible...
