"I shouldn't have indulged Seraphina, and I shouldn't have imprisoned you in the Serene Mirror Lake."
Lyralei's voice was hoarse.
"I'm guilty."
She knelt straight on the stone floor, knees together, raised both hands, and lowered her once-proud head toward Ethan.
The hall was deathly silent.
"Today," she continued, "I will sever one arm to atone for my sin."
"And I volunteer to enter the Demon Sealing Cave and clean the ancestral tomb for fifty years."
"Junior Brother Ethan—please let my disciple go."
As her words fell, a crimson longsword appeared in her hand.
She did not hesitate.
The blade flashed.
Her left arm flew.
Dang—dang—dang!
The severed arm hit the ground, followed by the sword clattering loudly across the stone floor.
Blood splashed.
Lyralei's beautiful face instantly turned pale, her forehead covered in dense beads of sweat. Her body trembled violently as the pain surged like a tidal wave, yet she did not cry out.
