The journey out of the icy cavern was a slow, torturous, and for Alaric, incredibly pleasurable affair.
The path leading away from the secluded cave where Yun Lan had sealed herself was treacherous—a narrow, winding trail carved into the side of a sheer cliff, slick with frozen condensation and battered by winds that carried the biting chill of the high altitude. Under normal circumstances, a cultivator of Yun Lan's caliber would have simply flown out, her Qi wrapping around her like a protective cocoon. But now, she was burdened. Not by the weight of the man on her back, but by the crushing weight of her own guilt.
Alaric, the handsome "traveler" who had sacrificed his cultivation to save her, was draped over her back like a broken doll. His arms were wrapped loosely around her neck, his chin resting on her shoulder, his chest pressed firmly against the silk of her back.
