Meanwhile, in the pristine, cloud-wreathed mountains that housed the Crimson Pill Sect, a different kind of poison was brewing—one born not of herbs, but of jealousy and wounded pride.
The news of Liu Ruyan's safe return from the Blood Forbidden Ground had been a cause for celebration among the sect's upper echelons. But the details that trickled back with the other junior disciples painted a troubling picture for some.
In a private, meticulously organized alchemy lab, filled with the scent of rare spirit flowers and simmering concoctions, Gao Feng slammed a jade vial onto his polished stone bench. The sound, sharp and angry, echoed in the quiet room.
He was handsome, in a refined, scholarly way that many of the sect's female disciples admired. His robes were immaculate, his hands steady, his control over alchemical flames second only to one. And that one was the source of his current, all-consuming fury.
Liu Ruyan.
