Rong Yue stood in the depths of the swamp, the Nine-Twist Serpent Vine coiled loosely in his grasp. It pulsed faintly, dim emerald light flickering like a dying breath.
At his feet, a head dropped from the rippling portal. It landed with a wet, dull sound.
Rong Yue glanced down and sighed. "…Wuhen."
The swamp stretched endlessly around him, dark water, twisted roots, the constant hum of unseen creatures. The air was thick, damp, clinging to his skin. His robes were soaked through, heavy with mud and stagnant water, droplets sliding from the edges of his sleeves.
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the vine into the portal. Then he bent, grabbed the head by its hair, and flung it aside like refuse.
It disappeared into the murky waters behind him.
He stripped off his outer robes, the fabric clinging before peeling away from his skin. For a moment, he stood there in only his inner layer and removed that too without care.
