Fang Yuan raised his left hand, fingers brushing the ancient ring that sat snugly at its base.
The band was simple, worn by time and legacy, a deep obsidian metal etched faintly with silver filigree, looping patterns of dragon breath and ancestral flame.
It pulsed faintly as if it recognized the tension in the air.
He slid the ring off slowly, not because it was difficult.
But because this wasn't a casual gesture.
This was a ritual.
A piece of his family's soul, passed through generations and if used, it required respect.
With the ring resting in his palm, he stared at Lin Zhaoyue, his tone even and quiet but laced with something sharper than steel.
"Do you know the cost of being caught lying after willingly binding yourself to this?"
Lin Zhaoyue nodded with an almost bored enthusiasm. "Yes yes, of course," she replied, waving one hand playfully.
