When Pi Yanlin set his teacup down on the stone table, his fingertips still held the cool, damp warmth left by Gu Qinghuan.
He lowered his gaze to the mass of faint blue soul-fragments at his feet—the remnants stripped from the depths of the faceless assassin’s consciousness in the interrogation room. It curled there like a crushed snake, emanating a nauseating, fishy stench.
"What are you staring at?" Gu Qinghuan’s Xiuchun Saber pressed a red mark into his palm. "That thing lost its mind long ago. What could possibly be left in a remnant soul?"
Chapter 34