Jing Hengbo immediately began to struggle. This breath was intense and wild, definitely not Gong Yin’s. However, the person pinning her against the wall had trapped all her movable limbs and was incredibly strong—she couldn’t break free at all.

The kisses from the person on top of her were somewhat frantic and confused, with burning lips wandering chaotically across her face—from forehead to eyelids, from nose bridge to both cheeks, not even sparing her chin. But for some unknown reason, this person seemed like a novice, or perhaps had some reservations. After all that random kissing, he hadn’t touched her lips for quite a while.

Jing Hengbo only felt a slight itch on her face. Besides the man’s intense scent, she also caught a faint sweet fragrance. Her heart suddenly understood—those serving women must have used some aphrodisiac incense. This person had previously embraced and kissed those women, inevitably getting contaminated by some of it, which was why his mind seemed somewhat unclear at the moment.

Thinking of this person’s previous entanglement with courtesans before coming to harass her, she felt disgusted. Just as she was about to move her fingers to summon something to give him a harsh lesson, the man suddenly tilted his head and bit her earlobe, his tongue curling around it and drawing it into his mouth.

Jing Hengbo’s entire body trembled, involuntarily going soft, her fingers becoming powerless. The man couldn’t help but tremble as well, letting out a low moan from his throat. Jing Hengbo could clearly feel his heat intensifying, his body more aroused, his breathing more chaotic and uncontrolled. His teeth and tongue ground against her several times, almost losing control of their force. Jing Hengbo only felt a slight pain in her earlobe and tilted her head to pull away. She had expected he wouldn’t let go and that her earlobe would inevitably be torn, but unexpectedly he immediately released his hold. Yet he wasn’t willing to give up—his face immediately moved closer, this time targeting her lips.

Jing Hengbo turned her head sharply again. As her head turned to one side, a hairpin at her temple poked into the other person’s cheek.

The cold, hard pin against his cheek brought him to his senses. He suddenly stopped and froze there.

Jing Hengbo still maintained her awkward position against the wall with her head turned, coldly looking at the silhouette in the darkness. In this underground room without lamps, there was no light at all. She could only see those eyes, distinct in black and white. In an instant, the confusion gradually faded, replaced by burning, agonizing pain. Like a prairie fire that had swept through in a flash, leaving only desolate scorched grass, broken walls and ruins, a lone figure against the setting sun and long river.

Then he suddenly released Jing Hengbo and pushed her out of the room with one hand. The force was so great that Jing Hengbo stumbled out of the room. Just as she steadied herself against the wall, the man had already rushed out the door and disappeared in a flash.

Jing Hengbo stood there in a daze for a while, touching her lips and recalling the scent from just now. After a long moment, she sighed and walked outside.

Her heart vaguely knew who it was, but she didn’t want to investigate. Some things were better left unspoken—just treat it as a momentary impulse. Once it passed and was let go, they could recover and start over.

When she emerged from the well, Doctor Sun was indeed waiting for her at the wellhead. Seeing her come out, he showed no surprise, bowed slightly, and said, “Miss, please follow me.”

The two had a tacit understanding. Earlier, when Jing Hengbo passed by Doctor Sun’s side, her supposed “steadying of the medicine bottle” was false—what was true was that she moved her finger to telekinetically switch the position of the medicine bottle on Doctor Sun’s table. After switching positions, when she went to steady the bottle, Doctor Sun immediately understood that she was the person he was looking for.

With Doctor Sun leading the way, their exit was very smooth. Along the way, they passed the Zhao family’s small courtyard where Jing Hengbo was staying. She instinctively turned to glance at it—the courtyard gate was tightly closed.

At this moment, what was Gong Yin doing?

Had Nan Jin… reached his side?

She wanted to walk quickly over, yet couldn’t help pricking up her ears to listen. However, at this moment the night was silent, with only the sound of wind swirling delicately through the winding alleys.

Her heart also seemed to have wind, moaning and swirling in circles, empty and hollow, unable to grasp anything substantial.

…

Gong Yin grabbed Nan Jin’s wrist in one swift motion.

Nan Jin was startled and instinctively tried to pull her hand back. Then, remembering her mission, she gritted her teeth and endured it. She looked down at her captured wrist, then at Gong Yin’s silent expression with closed eyes. His face appeared ethereal and noble in the faint smoke, unlike an ordinary person. Nan Jin stared at him in fascination for a while, then turned her eyes away as they slowly reddened.

Then she turned her head back, only now realizing that Gong Yin had held her wrist for too long—it didn’t seem like flirtation, but rather like… taking her pulse.

Her heart stirred. She turned sideways to sit beside him. After a long while, she heard him let out a long sigh, his voice muffled. His tone seemed both disappointed and relieved, both melancholy and liberated. Then he murmured, “There isn’t any…”

There isn’t any what?

Nan Jin looked at him in bewilderment. It seemed like Gong Yin had wanted to detect some problem? She knew her pulse was normal. Wasn’t normal a good thing? Why did his face show slight disappointment, yet within that disappointment arose slight relief?

This expression was too complex, causing her to be dazed for a long moment. Suddenly, Gong Yin pulled her hand, and as her body tilted, she had already fallen sprawling onto him.

She crashed into his chest, her face buried deep in his clear, snow-like scent. Before she could lift her head, her face was already flushing with heat, her heart beating with an intense, pounding rhythm she had never experienced in over twenty years. She had always thought her cultivation was deep and her composure extraordinary, never imagining she could have such moments of losing self-control. For her, it was a completely foreign feeling—like being struck by a tidal wave, scorching her heart with heat waves, nearly suffocating. In the faint joy arose a desolate feeling.

Then she felt Gong Yin’s body burning with fever. Familiar with the Dragon family constitution, she immediately knew Gong Yin had a fever—probably a high fever—which explained why his mind wasn’t very clear. Due to their constitution, Dragon family members rarely developed fevers unless their body or spirit was on the verge of collapse. For Gong Yin, it was probably both—after all, for so long, both his heart and strength had been overworked.

She turned and embraced Gong Yin. Dragon family members who cultivated ice and snow true energy were naturally the best fever-reducing medicine.

Gong Yin’s body moved backward, making room for half the bed. While she thought with a slight pang that this practiced motion must have become habit with Jing Hengbo, she moved closer, pressing one hand against his chest, wanting to transfer some true energy to help reduce his fever. But she saw his arms embrace her as he murmured, “It’s good there’s no pregnancy. You can be freer in the future…”

Nan Jin’s hand stiffened.

Pregnancy… pregnant with what?

Gong Yin’s fingers fell to her temple, gently brushing away her disheveled hair. His gesture was so tender it made her want to cry—for this precious, careful treatment that actually didn’t belong to her.

Her body trembled slightly. Gong Yin’s fingers paused, and Nan Jin looked up nervously, but didn’t notice anything unusual in his expression.

After a long while, amid Nan Jin’s increasingly urgent breathing, Gong Yin finally spoke again in a low voice.

“I worried for so long and hoped for so long. Now thinking about it, this is still best for you…” Gong Yin lowered his fingers, his lips curving slightly. “You seem resolute, but actually have a soft heart. I’ve already given you one bond—it’s better not to have another bond… I only wish you could cut cleanly.”

The last few words were spoken with firm determination, no longer blurred as before.

Nan Jin’s heart trembled. She looked up at him—Gong Yin still showed no abnormality, his hands loosely resting on her shoulders.

Nan Jin looked down at his slender fingers, which rested so lightly, completely without force. Similarly, although they were now embracing face to face, the distance between them was enough for another person to sleep.

Nan Jin suddenly understood. She suddenly remembered that night—the slightly trembling carriage, her silent guard through the night in the tall grass, and after that night watching the sunrise from the grass tips with its myriad rays, while her heart was as lonely as an empty valley.

He had suspected Jing Hengbo was pregnant, hadn’t he?

So now he was letting out a regretful sigh of relief. He longed for a child, yet didn’t want Jing Hengbo to have one. He didn’t want to add another bond to her life because of himself, binding her forever without freedom.

The person opposite her looked weary, with night settled on his brow, showing no trace of light.

She quietly watched him and suddenly burst into tears.

This was the first time in her life she had wept.

Through her tear-blurred vision, she seemed to see that small girl standing in front of the brown wooden archway, curiously looking around—the world before her was too miraculous. One step back led to the lush, verdant mountain path she had come from; one step forward led to bare white rocks and frost-covered ground gleaming white, with similarly ghost-like dressed people in that snowy landscape.

She was somewhat afraid, but the aunt holding her hand gripped it tightly—that hand was ice-cold, as if even the bones were painful. She dared not break free.

A white shadow drifted over—an old man with snow-white hair and beard. The way he looked at her held no warmth, like a knife. She felt that in an instant, this knife had dissected her inside and out.

Too frightened in her heart, she vaguely heard the aunt and old man talking: “…an orphan… excellent bone structure… meets the requirements…”

“Her eyes are well-formed, like bright pearls. But cultivating our discipline requires stability and constancy, ice and snow that never melts. She will never again have that pearl-like flowing gaze.” That old man’s indifferent tone remained unforgettable to this day. “So be it. We’re wronging her after all. Let her pet name be Pearl.”

From that day, she was called Pearl. She had a new identity—she was the future family head’s medicine cauldron, possessing a life ready to sacrifice for others at any moment.

This definition—when young, she didn’t know such a price.

“…Uncle, Uncle, it hurts so much. I don’t want to bathe in that medicinal water. Look, my skin is peeling off.”

“The family head needs a medicine cauldron. You must bathe.”

“…Uncle, why are you locking me in a dark room…”

“Your thoughts are too active, not suitable for a medicine cauldron’s requirements. First, retreat here for three months.”

“But I’m afraid of the dark.”

“A medicine cauldron cannot have fear.”

“Ah! There’s something inside! Something’s biting me!”

“For every scream you make, one more thing will be put in.”

“…So cold, so cold, I’m going to freeze to death…”

“A medicine cauldron needs to know the limit before freezing to death.”

“…This tonic makes my stomach hurt so much…”

“Eighteen kinds of deadly poisons. Today is the first—after you pass all eighteen, we’ll combine all eighteen for another round.”

“Don’t force true energy into me like this, I’m going to explode…”

“Since you’re called a medicine cauldron, naturally your body must be like a cauldron, containing suffering, poison, and true essence beyond ordinary people’s endurance.”

…

The days from her earliest memories were called darkness.

In endless suffering, someone kept painting illusory promises for her.

“Endure these, and you’ll be the most outstanding woman in the Great Wilderness.”

“You’ll be worthy of the most excellent man in this world.”

“You’ll become the most honored person in the Dragon family, become the Dragon family head’s wife. You’re the most talented among all previous Dragon family medicine cauldrons. If you succeed, the Dragon family might change their cursed bloodline forever. At that time, you’ll be the benefactor of the entire Dragon family. You’ll receive your husband’s love, children’s devotion, and family support. All suffering then won’t be worth mentioning. Then you’ll thank us for giving you completeness.”

“The Dragon family heir is extraordinary—how can you become an ordinary woman? Believe me, when you see him, you’ll feel all sacrifice was worthwhile.”

…In those hellish days, she hadn’t thought of dying. She was originally a rootless drifter, pushed by fate’s hand to this icy land. Life was so harsh—those illusory promises and imaginings were intangible. She’d rather die than endure decades of pain for that brief honor, for a man she’d never even seen.

“…I don’t want to be this medicine cauldron. I’d rather die…”

“If you take your own life, an innocent life will die because of you, making the entire family’s efforts worthless. You’ve also seen how many died in wild mountains gathering those poisons. You’ve seen elders who transmitted true energy to you age overnight and die young. You’ve seen those children who couldn’t grow up, girls your age who died. Regardless, this family raised you, provided for you, didn’t let you die as an orphan in disaster, and let you grow up in silk and jade. Can you really just let go?”

She couldn’t let go—this destined responsibility and burden.

Such days lasted twenty years. Youth accompanied by suffering passed step by step. Then that year, she finally saw him.

Her first sight of him was at the bottom of Snow Mountain Lake.

He came from the blue waves, the same white clothes worn with different elegance. When the long-closed stone door slowly opened before vision accustomed to dim light, the first sight was water clear as blue sky, waves like gentle wind, and him in the wind. Behind him was endless brilliant yet hazy light—all the splendor of heaven and earth converged at this moment.

This was fate, and also seemed like comfort—arranging for her first sight upon escape to be him. Her pupils captured and recorded beauty and grace, unforgettable for years. She suddenly felt the family elders truly hadn’t deceived her, suddenly felt those past sufferings were indeed worthwhile.

Coming down from the snow mountain, she learned how he had found the family—ten years of searching for clues, the decisive resolution of the final strike, calm composure surrounded by enemies, the unexpected final hook—the infinite charm belonging to a wise man. She finally understood the meaning of “most excellent man.”

Even when he later fell ill coming down the mountain, with blocked meridians, unable to rise for a full year, it couldn’t diminish her amazement at first sight. For that entire year, she had served him almost without removing her clothes. It was also in that year that life’s hardships and trivialities made her understand this man better—beneath his calm, cold exterior lay determination and fearlessness beyond ordinary people. It was also in that year that amazement became enchantment, and she irretrievably fell in love with him.

She loved his quiet, solitary profile when alone, sitting alone among secluded bamboo.

She loved his calm composure when directing affairs, leading the family into the mortal world against all opposition.

She loved his perseverance in silently recovering while enduring tremendous pain—countless people had thought he would never stand again.

Only now did she know that all her reasons for loving him were his reasons for fighting for another person.

In the end, at street-side food stalls, she stood on this side of the street watching Jing Hengbo on the other side, with her back to him, standing her silhouette like an island. She watched him sitting behind Jing Hengbo making dumplings, his fingers rigid as he pushed dumplings into the pot, his hands pale and bloodless with faint blue veins showing.

She only felt her heart being pushed into that boiling pot in an instant.

She had thought twenty years of waiting would finally bear fruit, only to find he had already formed a union with another—two people’s world with blood-connected lives, where anyone’s intrusion was sinful.

The tears flowing across her face finally stopped.

For over twenty years she was called Pearl—Pearl with beautiful, bright eyes. This name was more like a stimulus or comfort. From when she was called Pearl, she became that rigid, pale, strange woman, never again shedding women’s most easily shed tears.

She had originally been like Jing Hengbo—a woman with flowing water’s spirit and pearl’s radiance…

Then let her cry well tonight, in the arms of the man who originally belonged to her in this life, at both the closest and most distant distance from him in this lifetime. Let a lifetime’s tears flow completely dry, redeeming debts owed in previous lives, hoping not to come again in the next.

Crying, she slowly moved closer and tightly embraced his waist.

At some point, he too silently held her tight.

…

Jing Hengbo stood at the mountain’s base, looking up at the dark cliff ahead.

She frowned, never having imagined that within Puyang City there could be such a seemingly low yet incredibly eerie mountain.

The mountain seemed to have been split in half by ghosts and gods with one knife stroke—split into two halves at ninety degrees, straight up and down, slippery beyond grip. The entire mountain body was grayish, with very strange-colored rocks that surprisingly grew no plants at all. Seeing such a mountain made one feel uneasy.

The Dragon family disciples following behind were amazed. Some ran over wanting to try climbing, but this mountain was so slippery and straight with almost no footholds. Several people laughably leaped up a section before having to come back down—the highest managed only three zhang.

Doctor Sun stood beside her, gazing at the mountain with complex eyes, sighing deeply: “This old man searched famous mountains and great rivers for the Void Flower, never thinking it grew right under my nose. But now the situation is more cruel—you see it under your nose, within reach, yet cannot pick it.”

Originally, Jing Hengbo had some objection to “cannot pick”—with countless masters in the world, how could they not climb a cliff? Only now did she know the old man hadn’t lied.

“The entire cliff is over ten zhang high. There’s probably only one foothold, still near the top. You must know going up is harder than down. Even the highest lightness skill masters, relying entirely on true energy to surge upward, can manage at most three or four zhang,” Doctor Sun thoughtfully looked at the group of Dragon family disciples still experimenting with mountain climbing, suddenly smiling. “These young people are all actually masters.”

Jing Hengbo chuckled, her eyes wary. But Doctor Sun continued: “Such skill, yet troubled by strange blood poison—truly regrettable. If Miss can help me obtain the Void Flower today, this old man will certainly perform blood exchange surgery for them. If even one of them recovers, the entire clan can be saved.”

Jing Hengbo hadn’t expected this old fellow to already see these people’s illness. Hearing him say healing one could save the whole clan made her heart stir, feeling this would definitely help Gong Yin, so she nodded.

Doctor Sun was delighted and immediately instructed her on flower-picking methods. The flower couldn’t be seen now—it only bloomed in the darkest moment before dawn. The flower was crystal clear and transparent, almost invisible under lamplight, so no fire could be carried. This cliff grew no flowers or grass with nowhere to climb. The Void Flower grew on the back side under a protruding cliff section, making it impractical to climb up and hang down to pick. But going up from below, near where the Void Flower grew, there was only one barely usable foothold—extremely wet and slippery. That foothold was still half a zhang from the Void Flower. How to stand steady at that position and dig out the flower growing in the cliff crevice from half a zhang away was a problem.

More importantly, the thing only bloomed for half a quarter-hour. Once it withered, picking it would be useless. When picking, no tools could be used—best to put it directly into a special jade box for medicine, grinding and preparing it immediately within half an hour.

All these conditions sounded like fantasy. The Dragon family disciples listened in stupefaction, then loudly cursed the old man for being black-hearted—this was clearly tricking people into suicide.

Jing Hengbo looked at the time, looked at the cliff, and suddenly asked: “If someone successfully treated with blood exchange surgery helps another clansman with serious illness using the same source power, would it be effective?”

Doctor Sun pondered, then nodded: “If this person is willing to donate their power, it should help.”

“Good.” Jing Hengbo began arranging herself, bundling up her skirt to be as efficient as possible.

The Dragon family disciples stopped arguing and all stared at her, seeming to want to see timidity on her face while also seeming unable to understand why she was so bold.

Under their doubtful gazes, Jing Hengbo disappeared with a “whoosh.”

Everyone was still woodenly searching when Doctor Sun already looked up toward the foothold at the cliff’s top, his eyes flashing.

The Dragon family disciples also saw the swaying figure on the cliff top, slender as if about to break, all unable to help letting out surprised exclamations. They were amazed by the terrifying, miraculous speed, amazed that the foothold was really too small—so small it couldn’t hold half of Jing Hengbo’s shoe. Some were about to cheer but immediately closed their mouths—the mountain wind was too fierce, that figure too thin, feeling like it could be blown down at any moment.

Jing Hengbo now also felt nervous. She hadn’t expected the wind up here to be so strong. The split mountain body created wind rushing straight through with force like iron plates. Without true power, she found it difficult just to stand steady in this force, let alone on this narrow mountain peak.

Moreover, everything around was very dark with heavy fog. The protruding cliff above covered her head blackly. She didn’t know how thick this cliff was—if it wasn’t thick and someone lay on the cliff top to strike her, she wouldn’t see them before being knocked down.

This damned place where no lights could be used was really too dangerous.

The Dragon family disciples below also discovered something wrong. Someone shouted loudly: “Go to the cliff top!”

Going to the cliff top couldn’t help Jing Hengbo, but at least could prevent sneak attacks.

The Dragon family disciples rushed toward the cliff top. Doctor Sun wanted to speak but stopped, staring intently upward.

At this time, Jing Hengbo had no attention for anything else. All her spirit and attention were on the surroundings as she struggled to turn around in that tiny space, waiting for the flower to bloom.

She had originally faced the opposite mountain wall. While turning, her heart suddenly stirred—something seemed wrong with the opposite side. However, she could no longer turn back, and besides, the opposite side was three zhang away. Palm force couldn’t reach, and with this visibility and wind force, throwing concealed weapons couldn’t guarantee accuracy.

Subconsciously, the danger was still overhead.

The sky grew darker and darker. Dawn was approaching.

There were huffing sounds overhead—the Dragon family disciples had climbed up. Someone loudly said: “We’ve swept it for you—nobody up here! Don’t worry!”

Jing Hengbo smiled, then caught a strange fragrance.

Like wine fragrance, intoxicating.

She immediately looked toward the small crevice Doctor Sun had indicated and vaguely saw transparent radiance flash.

It bloomed!

Jing Hengbo didn’t dare delay. Aiming at that direction, she reached out and pulled through the air.

Only she in this world had the ability to move objects with thought, but the more substantial the object, the better for control. At this moment, the flower grew ethereally and was hidden in the cliff crevice. Her first pull actually couldn’t extract it.

Jing Hengbo had to try again. This time she used too much force, her foot slipped, and her body suddenly lurched forward.

Doctor Sun and the remaining Dragon family disciples below vaguely saw this and let out alarmed cries. The Dragon family disciples above couldn’t see and were all anxiously shouting, their voices instantly scattered by the mountain wind.

When Jing Hengbo lurched forward, she knew it was bad and instinctively reached out wildly. Then her heart sank—this cliff was slippery and grew no plants, where could there be anything to grab?

But her hand suddenly caught something.

Right ahead under the cliff covering her head, it seemed like vines—net-like vines. Her five fingers happened to thread through the net, immediately stabilizing her body firmly.

This cliff’s back side actually grew net-like vines? She looked up but couldn’t see—the light and cloud mist were too heavy.

For unknown reasons, a bone-chilling feeling suddenly arose in her heart. This feeling came strangely, as if… as if something was suddenly watching her at extremely close distance.

Too close—so close she seemed to feel breath on her face. Yet there was nothing in front of her except rolling fog. She could only think it was the cold mist hitting her face.

Below were anxious shouts; above, the Dragon family disciples’ footsteps thumped, giving her a headache with their equally anxious frequency.

Flowering was but a moment—time was running out.

That position grew more and more slippery. She couldn’t leave the net-like vine that could stabilize her body. Gripping the vine, leaning forward, her other hand pulled hard.

A point of moonlight-like radiance suddenly leaped out—that cluster of hazy white, like condensed mist, like soft clouds, like a twinkling small star, gently swaying in the air.

The intoxicating wine-like fragrance grew stronger; she even felt a bit dizzy.

Quickly reaching out to gather it, the thing flew through the air to her. She had an opened small jade box tied to her hand—the thing went directly into the box without touching any tools or solid objects throughout.

Only now did Jing Hengbo breathe a long sigh of relief.

Doctor Sun and the Dragon family disciples below also simultaneously breathed out, the disciples cheering and praising the miracle. Doctor Sun stroked his beard murmuring “Indeed… indeed…” his eyes excited yet complex.

The jade box on Jing Hengbo’s wrist had a small mechanism—just touching it with her chin would close the lid to prevent the medicinal herb from falling out. This was also Doctor Sun’s design for picking convenience.

Jing Hengbo held the net vine with one hand and balanced the jade box with the other, using her chin to close the box properly.

Her chin had already touched the box when she heard a “click.”

Joy overflowed in her heart as she thought this medicine could be exchanged for Doctor Sun’s help. If blood exchange succeeded, the Dragon family could have healthy people. With healthy people, perhaps there would be a way to help Gong Yin’s body, perhaps eliminating the need for that medicine cauldron…

In this moment of distraction.

A cold laugh suddenly came from overhead.

This sound was extremely low but thunderous in her ears. Jing Hengbo was shocked!

Where did this person come from? How could there be anyone?

But there was no time to think. With no ground under her feet and both hands trapped, she made a split-second decision and released her grip.

The box fell, with Doctor Sun and everyone below frantically running to catch it.

Jing Hengbo flashed away at the fastest speed.

However, she was still too late. The moment she let go, she felt something cold on her neck, like a snake suddenly sliding into her nape.

Leather cord!

This thought flashed through her mind, and she immediately regretted it greatly. Any movement now would cause her to hang herself!

But her instantaneous movement occurred simultaneously with thought and intention. This thought had just flashed when she had already flashed away.

Her neck suddenly tightened—she was immediately suspended in mid-air.

Almost instantly, the suffocating sensation she’d recently experienced returned. Air was cut off at her throat, her chest suffocating as if pressed by huge stones while seeming ready to burst with boiling blood. It was as if a sharp blade carved from throat to heart. Her mind first sparkled with golden stars, then went completely blank…

This hanging danger was even more perilous than Miss Zheng’s previous strangling—the cliff was high, the rope tight, the opponent had calculated her reaction. Her flash at that moment’s high speed increased the downward force. Just this once, the leather cord was already tightly embedded in her throat. She would hang herself to death in mere moments!

Doctor Sun and the Dragon family disciples below frantically ran and caught the jade box. Doctor Sun breathed a sigh of relief while the Dragon family disciples still held out their hands, waiting for the fallen Jing Hengbo to drop from the cliff so they could catch her.

However, looking up, they saw high in the sky, in the dim darkness, that slender figure swaying in the wind but not falling.

Looking more carefully, they were immediately shocked and alarmed. Someone suddenly screamed: “She’s hanging! She’s suspended!”

Jing Hengbo vaguely heard this and inwardly smiled bitterly at the Dragon family disciples’ slow realization.

She was sinking into darkness, her last thought flashing… had she recently offended hanging ghosts? All these various strangulations…