The cabin shook as Hu Jiao'er slammed her palm again and again, but it was no use.
"Cough… Sister…" Hu Mei'er mumbled inside, her voice hazy.
She was already slumped in the corner, the pink mist curling around her like silken vines.
"My… my head… it's spinning…"
"This smell—what… is…?"
Hu Jiao'er's nose twitched. Her eyes widened.
"No! It's a fragrance mist! This—this—YOU USED A FILTHY TRAP!?"
"SU XIAOBAI!! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!!"
Outside, Su Xiaobai stood there like a lone swordsman…A tragic silhouette gazing out into the rising mist. If someone were watching from afar, they'd think he was a peerless cultivator contemplating the Dao under starlight.
But in truth?
He was just admiring his own shamelessness.
"And people say I'm not resourceful," he muttered with pride.
Then, louder—dramatically:
"This is punishment for setting a trap! You thought I'd walk into a hammer? Please!"
