At dawn, a soft halo of light filtered through the fine lattice of the window, lazily spilling into the bedchamber, dispersing the night's gloom; even the tiniest motes of dust hung thick in the air, each seeming to bear its own weight.
Qin Qingluo's tall, athletic form was mostly buried amidst the tangled brocade quilts and embroidered cushions, only her sharply defined shoulders and a solid stretch of arm exposed, her long black hair spread out, almost merging with the dark bedding beneath.
A few strands at the tips were damp with sweat, clinging to the sweaty side of her neck and along her cheek, lending her usually imposing face an exceedingly rare touch of languor.
Last night, they had first tangled and tested each other in Hanhai Building, their breaths overlapping, sword and palm exchanging, and though no True Power had been used, it had drained their minds even more than real blades and spears could.
