Carved from dark volcanic rock, the room was dominated by a massive, sunken pool of steaming, blood-red water infused with rare, intoxicating herbs designed to loosen a victim's meridians for easier harvesting.
The walls were draped in heavy crimson silks, and the air was thick with a cloying, sweet incense that made Ji'an's head swim.
"Strip him," a harsh voice ordered.
Ji'an was shoved into the center of the room.
Two female attendants, their eyes hollow and dead, likely former captives themselves whose minds had been broken by Tu's arts, approached her with unblinking obedience.
They reached out to pull away her torn, mud-stained white tunic.
"Do not touch me!" Ji'an barked, slapping their hands away, channeling every ounce of aristocratic, young-master arrogance she possessed. "I am the heir to a noble house! I will not be pawed at by common slaves! Untie my hands, and I will bathe myself!"
