The crowd was still roaring from Shui Lian'er's concession when silence fell abruptly, like a flame smothered.
All eyes shifted back to Bai Xueqing.
She did not smile.
She did not bask in glory.
Her sword lowered slowly, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her mood. Her lips curled—not in triumph, but in dissatisfaction.
(Tch!)
Bai Xueqing's pale-blue eyes flickered with a cold, unyielding light as she looked at Shui Lian'er, who stood calm and composed even in defeat.
It galled her.
That illusion—had forced her to face something she did not wish to. Even if only for a fleeting instant, Shui Lian'er had made her falter.
And yet, before she could repay it in full—before she could exact the price—Shui Lian'er had simply surrendered.
Despite being victorious, it didn't feel like one.
Bai Xueqing scoffed and without sparing Shui Lian'er another glance, she sheathed her sword in a sharp motion.
