"As you desire."
Faust danced excitedly, savoring that sweet agony and rage. He opened his mouth, chanting loudly with words akin to a poem,
"A ritual, ten binges, bones of a hundred men, eyes of a thousand flying birds, and ten thousand venomous snakes!
Die in a Spirit Coffin, and thus weep; metamorphose from a cell in Hell, and therefore perish.
The reborn shadow clings to its wings; the dormant flying bird shall ascend to the sky!"
SNAP!
The sound of the armrest breaking under a grip tight with anger.
Ai Qing clenched her teeth, silent.
Her most precious treasure, all for a useless prophetic verse?
Having indulged in his poetic euphoria, Faust smoothed his hair, raised his head, and looked down into her eyes. It was as if he could see the molten lava of rage underneath a layer of ice, and he smiled a twisted smile.
"You have one more question left."
Ai Qing remained silent.
Faust waited leisurely.
Until at last, she calmed down and voiced her final doubt.
