The monster's wooden limb came crashing down. Zhen Yu closed his eyes, ready to die.
But the blow never landed.
The storm went silent. Even the wind froze.
When Zhen Yu opened his eyes, a figure stood in front of him.
A woman.
Her long black hair reached her knees, swaying in the snowstorm. Her robes were dark as night, and beneath her pale skin, crimson veins glowed faintly. Her red eyes burned like fire in the blizzard.
The monster screeched, its branches twisting like claws. But the woman raised one hand. No words came from her lips — only silence.
Dark energy spread from her palm. The monster's wooden body cracked and splintered. It twisted in pain, its roar swallowed by the storm. Bit by bit, it crumbled into nothing, devoured by the power flowing into her.
Zhen Yu could only watch. His sword lay in the snow, forgotten.
When the last fragments of the creature were gone, the woman lowered her hand. The glowing veins became brighter. Her body trembled, but her eyes never wavered.
At last, she turned to him.
Those crimson eyes locked on Zhen Yu. Silent. Unblinking.
He felt a chill deeper than the cold of the mountains. Not fear… but recognition.
The Black Lotus.
The witch the King had spoken of.
The one who devoured monsters.
And she was real.
Zhen Yu could say nothing. He only stared at her, surprised, his mind blank. He was too caught in those crimson eyes, forgetting even the soldiers waiting for him in camp.
At last, the woman stepped closer. Her pale hand reached out, steady despite her trembling veins. She offered it to him — a silent gesture.
To help him stand.