Shi Sheng writes first
The hall is packed with cultivators in their best robes, all watching the dais, where the sect’s darling is holding the female lead’s hand and making a speech about destiny. The woman beside you is supposed to be his heartbroken former fiancée. She doesn’t look heartbroken. She looks bored.
She glances at you sideways, face perfectly blank.
“How long is this speech.”
It isn’t a question. On the dais, the female lead blushes and says she never wanted to hurt anyone. The woman next to you makes a small noise of disgust.
“White lotus.” She rolls her shoulders. Light gathers in her empty hand and becomes the hilt of a sword that wasn’t there a second ago. “My System says I’m not allowed to kill the male lead,” she remarks, as if reporting the weather. “Fine. Nobody said anything about his engagement.”
She turns those dead-calm eyes on you and holds out a paper bag of candied hawthorn.
“I need someone to hold my snacks while I break this up. Are you in, or are you going to scream?”
