After changing into dry and lightweight clothes, the Little Mad King stepped out from behind her barely-there tree.
She wrung her soaking wet hair without a second thought, causing crystalline droplets to drip from the tips, soaking into the shoulders of her freshly changed fabric and leaving dark marks.
The water droplets slid down her fair skin, silently disappearing into the slightly open collar, leaving a winding, wet and shiny trail.
Her actions were candid and direct, carrying a focus akin to handling a tool. As if she was wringing out not her own hair, but a cloth that needed to be dried.
As always, Li Ye could only sigh fatherly about this.
Meanwhile, the Little Mad King responded doubtfully, "Mechanical construct? I didn't see anything, just darkness. Did you trigger some kind of inspiration?"
