Warning: Extreme violence on this chapter. If you are below 18. I suggest you don't read this chapter and move on to the next part immediately. Especially if you can't handle violence.
The scholar's body lay slumped, bound tightly to a cracked pillar of stone deep beneath the ruined streets. The underground chamber was silent, save for the occasional drip of water echoing off moss-slick walls. He stirred slowly, consciousness dragged back into place by the sting of cold air and the seeping ache in his limbs.
His once-refined robes were tattered now, stained with blood and ash. One eye had swelled shut. The other blinked blearily, until it met hers.
Feng Jiao Xue stood just outside the circle of torchlight, her presence cloaked in shadows. Blood still painted one side of her face, dried and cracked. Her black eyes gleamed with an unnatural calm. There was no anger. No desperation.
Only methodical silence.
