Lin Ji'an stood with her back pressed flat against the cool stone wall of the storage cellar, her chest heaving, her fingers lightly tracing the skin of her lower lip where the three-hundred-year-old immortal had almost kissed moments ago.
On the floor at her boots lay the pulverised, scattered remains of a high-grade porcelain tea caddy, its precious green leaves slowly soaking up the dark puddle of the spilled Dragon-Bone Vitality Broth.
"They are all nuts," Ji'an whispered to the empty stone room, her voice trembling with a mixture of profound transmigrator shock and panic. "They are completely unhinged, even when doing something wrong. How is that possible, not to have a shred of conscience left in them? The entire upper management of this sect is suffering from terminal, hormone-induced brain rot!"
