The pale golden light of dawn filtered into the tent. The once–deathly pale woman now sat upright on the bed, her breathing steady, her skin glowing faintly with vitality. Her long hair, disheveled and damp with sweat from the night's ordeal, cascaded down her shoulders as she fixed her sharp, renewed gaze on Mo Han.
"You saved me," she said quietly, her voice smooth, but heavy with unspoken authority. "Without you, my cultivation would have been crippled. For that, I owe you more than words. From today onward, follow me."
Mo Han, who stood by the cauldron packing away his needles and instruments, did not even turn his head. His movements were calm, deliberate, as though her words were little more than passing wind.
"I guarantee you a wealthy and lavish life," she continued, leaning slightly forward, her tone commanding. "Every treasure you seek, every resource you require—I can provide them all. Whatever you ask, I will see it delivered."
