"Are you just going to watch them die?"
"Who!?"
Zhu Ziyan immediately turned, looking around warily, her feline ears flattened completely against her dark hair, swiveling independently to catch the origin of the sound.
Her pupils contracted into vertical, needle-thin slits, slicing through the shimmering heatwaves of the temple parapet.
There was no one.
Not a footprint in the dust, not a ripple in the ambient spiritual qi, not even the flutter of a bug's wing.
Yet the voice had not struck her ears from the outside—it had purred directly within the hollow of her skull, vibrating in the marrow of her spine like the deep, rhythmic chest-rumble of a slumbering predator.
'...I should run.'
Before her heels could touch the edge of the parapet to spring away—
SHUUUU—
The surroundings changed.
And before she realized it, Zhu Ziyan found herself in a hall made of sandstone.
A vast, breathtaking place completely untouched by time.
