The girl with the frost sword had been restless since dawn. Ever since Jumi whispered the secret of Mo Han's terrifying ability—that his very presence could ignite breakthroughs—her heart had burned with greed and desire.
Tang Zin sharpened her blade thrice, yet no clarity came. Instead, visions of Mo Han's calm eyes and effortless aura haunted her mind.
By noon, she gathered her courage and intercepted him near the Academy's outer courtyard.
Mo Han had just stepped out from his stone house, adjusting his robe sleeves, when she blocked his path. Her frost sword hung at her hip, but the chill in her gaze was replaced by something softer.
"Mo Han," she said, voice low, almost husky.
He stopped, his eyes calm. "What do you want?"
