The scene froze—colder than winter steel, sharper than any blade.
The entire Fairyharbor Immortal Palace fell silent, as though coated in frost. Whatever faint composure existed after Aoki’s defeat shattered completely the moment Dark Murky fell.
The men and women who moments ago indulged in pleasure now lay collapsed like broken dolls, trembling so faintly they barely breathed. Only the frantic pounding of fear-stricken hearts echoed in the suffocating stillness.
The wine pool was still.
The swaying flesh forest stopped.
Even the celestial music died out, as though the palace itself mourned the fall of its two “immortals.”
Houtu—normally radiant enough to topple kingdoms—stood rigid. No flirtation, no lazy charm. Her eyes, once soft as silk, now stormed with roiling dread and an icy anger she refused to acknowledge.
Aoki’s defeat could be brushed off—wrong element, unlucky matchup.
But Dark Murky?
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