The wine-soaked chamber had grown heavy with silence, save for the occasional crackle of the oil lamps. Xu Mochen's head had lolled slightly, his once-practiced smile now weakened by drink. Ling Yu's own tolerance far outstripped his, enhanced both by her system and by the iron will she had cultivated through years of surviving betrayal and apocalypse.
She watched him through lowered lashes, her mind a calculating storm. Every word he had spilled tonight had been neatly filed away. Every glance, every slip of pride, every boast, it was all ammunition. And now, as his words slurred and his eyes drooped, she knew it was time to leave.
'Enough of this charade. I've squeezed him off all the information for what I need tonight.'
She rose quietly, smoothing her clothes, making her way toward the carved wooden door at the end of the chamber. Her fingers brushed the bronze handle, cool against her skin.
But just as she was about to slip away—
