Within the diminutive space of the Inner World, Ye Fan pressed his back against the star-patterned spatial barrier, the pads of his fingers repeatedly tracing the concentric soul-guiding jade talisman in his palm.
The lingering scent of agarwood on the talisman mingled with the smell of his own fresh blood, hovering at the tip of his nose. Just the day before, Su Qingxue had been leaning against the soft couch in a private parlor at Wanhua Tower, her fingertips pushing the talisman into the collar of his robe. The red mole at the corner of her eye had flickered in the candlelight as she spoke: "Young Master Ye always insists on keeping his abilities hidden, but if you truly encounter a desperate deadlock..." Her voice trailed off, as light as a butterfly landing on a lute string, "...those of us in Hanmei Pavilion cannot bear to see sincerity betrayed."
Right now, the talisman was growing scalding hot in his palm, and the bloody aura wrapped within the soul-entangling music outside the space grew even thicker. Ye Fan's Adam's apple bobbed as he suddenly recalled three days ago at the dilapidated temple on the outskirts of the city, when Su Qingxue had blocked a poison-tipped flying needle for him, leaving a three-inch gash slashed across her left wrist. At the time, she had bitten down on a handkerchief and smiled, saying that "folks from Hanmei Pavilion long ago treat pain like tea." Yet when the blood soaked through the cloth, the white marks her knuckles pressed into the…
Chapter 53