The heavy stone door of the maintenance tunnel sealed behind them, leaving the ruined, barren medicinal garden in the dark. Wang Jian and Sect Mistress Lianhua emerged back into the cool night air of the sect's interior.
They moved like shadows, hugging the tree line.
"Now," Sect Mistress Lianhua whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustle of leaves. She pointed towards a grand, multi-tiered pagoda structure in the distance, glowing faintly with defensive runes. "The Scripture Hall. The legacy of our sect's knowledge. Every pill recipe, every cultivation technique accumulated over a thousand years is in there."
Wang Jian nodded. He pulled her closer, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her flush against his side. The tight black stealth suit she wore left nothing to the imagination. He could feel the heat of her skin, the softness of her flesh yielding under his grip.
"Let's go empty it," he murmured.
