Grey's eyes were cold as he locked onto the chubby cultivator across the workshop floor. The air between them thickened with killing intent, rippling faintly with suppressed spiritual energy. His blade was already halfway drawn, its faint blue edge humming as threads of spiritual qi coiled around it like mist.
But just as he was about to strike, a familiar presence brushed past his senses.
A faint fragrance of jasmine and metal drifted through the air, and a figure flashed before his eyes, appearing like a phantom. The world seemed to still for an instant as the captain appeared in front of him.
Slowly—almost tenderly—she lifted her hand and rested it on his. Her skin was pale, almost luminous under the glow of the lantern light. Her touch was soft, yet firm, filled with restrained strength that made the air tremble slightly.
"What are you doing, little Grey?" she asked softly, her voice as calm as still water.
