"Rest, little glitch," Yan Zhaoge whispered into the smoky air, his voice barely audible. "The real fire hasn't even begun."
***
The Grand Kitchens of the Iron-Stone Monastery were a sensory overload of roaring magma, hissing steam, and the aggressive clang of iron against obsidian.
The heat was an oppressive, physical weight that pressed against the lungs, a crucible designed to burn away mortal weakness.
Yet, in the corner of this volcanic inferno, the air grew suddenly, unnervingly still.
Lin Ji'an had completely surrendered to the exhaustion of her sudden Body Fusion ascension and the staggering potency of the Molten-Core Ale.
She lay slumped forward, her ethereal silver hair spilling like a waterfall of starlight across Yan Zhaoge's lap, her breathing slow and even.
The soot smeared across her cheek only highlighted the devastating, delicate perfection of her features; the glitching artifact failed to hide the truth of her feminine form in the dim, fiery light.
