Jumi continued her acting, her breath ragged, her eyes shimmering with false weakness. Mo Han bent toward her, one hand extended—not out of compassion, but because his healer's instincts never ignored the suffering.
That was the moment she had waited for.
With a flick of her wrist, a hidden pouch snapped open. Golden dust burst into the air, whirling like a cloud of fireflies. The enchantment powder filled Mo Han's nose and mouth before he could retreat. His vision blurred instantly, a wave of heat coursing through his blood. His chest tightened, and his knees threatened to give way.
Jumi's lips curved in a victorious smile. "Got you."
Mo Han staggered, his hand clenching into a fist. He forced qi to circulate, but the powder was different from ordinary seduction spells—it gnawed directly at his meridians, turning his own spiritual energy into chains that pulled him down. His cursed sword qi flared faintly in resistance, but the dizziness was already washing over him like a tide.
