The concussive wave from the Shadow Priest's staff hit like a physical hammer, redolent with the smell of scorched arsenic and the bitter, floral decay of mountain peonies. Around them, the bustling West Market dissolved into a "sense of crisis". Stalls of Persian silks were shredded into ribbons, and the air was filled with the frantic cries of merchants who only moments ago had been part of a vibrant, ordinary era. In the chaos, the Priest stood as a "classic opponent," ahead of the protagonist in his mastery of the supernatural, yet glaring with a "complex personality" that blurred the lines between religious devotion and primal malice.
Prince Zhao surged forward, his rough wool cloak tearing away to reveal a man who was no longer just a royal official but a "warrior of the Tang". The "sexual tension" that had simmered in the carriage now hardened into a lethal, protective shield between him and Li Mei. As the Priest unleashed a second blast of obsidian-colored Qi, Zhao's eyes ignited—a "gold-tier" transition from man to beast that mirrored the "The Global Tower" awakening. His muscles bunched and elongated, the silk of his undershirt straining as his "power system" began to shift toward the uncontrollable.
"You speak of upgrades and empires," Zhao growled, his voice dropping into a guttural register that made the cobblestones vibrate. "But you forget that a predator does not care for politics. It only cares for the hunt".
Zhao's hands, now tipped with curved, silver-gray talons, caught the Priest's staff mid-swing. The impact sent a shockwave through the alley, smelling of ozone and the "apocalyptic" chaos of a society collapsing under the weight of hidden truths. Li Mei didn't stay "cannon fodder" in the background. Using her "Golden Finger"—her scent-tracking ability—she analyzed the Priest's movements. She realized he wasn't just using Qi; he was "hoarding" the energy from the arsenic he had inhaled, turning himself into a living vessel for the plague.
"Your Highness, the left side!" Mei shouted, her "rationality and responsibility" cutting through the roar of the fight. "The lavender scent is thickest there—it's where his Qi is leaking!".
Following her guidance, Zhao spun, his "invincible" strength manifesting as he delivered a blow that shattered the Priest's defensive aura. The conflict was "explicit from the opening," a hallmark of internet literature designed to hook the reader's curiosity immediately. However, as Zhao prepared to deliver the final strike, the Priest let out a haunting, "infuriating" laugh.
"Do you think the Empress is the only one who has seen the potential of the moon?" the Priest rasped, his eyes widening with "lust and greed" for power. "The world is ending tomorrow, Prince, and I am merely the one writing the first chapter of its rebirth".
Before Zhao could close his claws around the man's throat, the Priest triggered a "trap set by other humans". A collection of smoke bombs, laced with concentrated arsenic, exploded between them. By the time the thick, acrid cloud cleared, the Shadow Priest was gone, leaving behind only the scent of "uncertainty" and the lingering musk of the beast.
Zhao stood in the center of the ruined alley, his silver fur slowly receding, though the gold in his eyes remained a "cliffhanger" for his stability. He turned to Mei, his breathing ragged, the "sexual tension" now mixed with a deep, "touching highlight" of mutual trust. They had survived the first "dramatic opening event" of their investigation, but the "looming crisis" was now larger than a single poisoner.
"He's going to the South Ward," Mei whispered, her nostrils twitching as she caught the fading scent of arsenic on the wind. "The hunt isn't over, Zhao. It's just moving to a bigger map".