The blood began to dry on the disciple's forehead.
But the memory of her collapse, the clean, surgical strike Zhao Fan delivered, lingered like a ghost in the air, too sudden to scream and too final to process.
As they were teleported to another stage.
* *
Lu Qingyan,
She walked slowly beside Ling'er, her gaze lowered but her mind alight.
It had to be done... Without the death of one, we couldn't move ahead.
And since we are ahead we have more opportunity to gather more treasure.
Alas, it was the misfortune of that disciple.
That was what she told herself and it was the absolute undeniable truth.
She had seen it happen, Young Master Zhao's strike, decisive and unblinking... The girl didn't even struggle perhaps she was trying to process after getting free from the illusion with the arrival of the white rabbit.
One life for twelve. Simple arithmetic. No struggle. No drama.
But even so, her throat was dry. And not from fear, but from understanding.
