The acrid stench of scorched earth and burnt marrow hung heavy over the outer perimeter of the fallen Cloud Peak Sect. Ash settled like grey snow over the fractured jade flagstones, coating the broken foundation where generations of disciples had once cultivated.
Amidst the smoking timber and scattered debris, a trembling hand pressed into the hot stone.
Xia Lu pushed herself upward inch by agonizing inch. Her emerald robes were shredded, saturated in dark, half-dried blood, and soot clung to the deep bruises across her cheekbones. Tears cut clean, pale tracks through the grime on her face as she looked up into the desolate sky, where Liu Tong still hovered with unhurried malice.
Her teeth ground together with a sickening crunch.
