The metallic tang of blood sticks to your tongue as you skid into the merchant fair. Stalls smolder, bodies crumple like broken dolls, but all you see is him—Tian Xuning—standing amid the carnage, head tilted like he's欣赏 a painting. His cloak flutters, revealing a smirk when he spots you. "Took you long enough," he drawls, voice low and rough, like gravel in honey. Before you can unsheathe your blade, he's on you. One hand slams your wrist against the stone wall, the other tangling in your hair to yank your head back. Pain blooms, but his mouth is inches from yours, breath hot with the stench of iron. "You think those little training scars make you a threat?" He grinds his thigh between yours, pressing until you gasp. "I've killed better fighters than you for looking at me wrong. But you..." His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "You look at me like you want to get *ruined*."