The sun had barely risen above the tiled rooftops when Shi Yaozu entered the training pavilion for a second day in a row. Dew still clung to the edges of the wooden beams, and the stone courtyard steamed faintly with the promise of a warmer day.
Zhao Xinying was already there.
She stood at the far end of the pavilion, one arm raised lazily above her head in a stretch, her back to him. The same green robes she always wore had been cinched tighter today, sleeves tied back, exposing her wrists and forearms. A signal. She was ready to fight.
Shi Yaozu stepped closer without a word. Both the man and the demon wanted to get closer to the flame in front of them.
Yesterday had been strange.
Not difficult. Not exhausting.
Just strange.
