She had assumed he was below her in cultivation. His Mana signature didn't read as Sixth Circle. But this heartbeat told a different story. This was the heart of someone whose body had been transformed by power she didn't understand.
And as she listened to his heart, she was really close to his body.
She could feel the rough fabric of the Dross rags he wore against her skin, the coarse weave that marked him as someone from the lowest social class. The material was poor quality, patched in places, worn thin by years of use. It should have felt beneath her station to be pressed against such common cloth.
It didn't.
Her nose kept catching his scent.
