Fang Yuan turned his attention to the items in his hand.
The hairpin was simple at first glance, sleek, elegant, but clearly crafted with precision.
There were faint engravings along its length, subtle enough to be missed by an untrained eye, but to Fang Yuan, each stroke shimmered faintly with spiritual resonance.
The spatial ring, on the other hand, was more traditional, black with a silver inlay of coiling clouds, its weight deceptively light for the power it held.
From beside him, Lin Zhaoyue leaned in slightly, her voice a sultry whisper, teasing and soft:
"Wanna know what the artifact's for?"
She gestured toward the hairpin with a delicate finger, the smile on her lips curling like the end of a mystery novel waiting to be spoiled.
Fang Yuan didn't look at her. His gaze remained fixed on the hairpin, but his brow arched slightly.
"What's an artifact for if not to kill."
She giggled, swaying a little as she clasped her hands behind her back.
