He jerked his chin toward the Borisin remains on the ground and, without so much as changing expression, spun a lie on the spot. "It was obviously those Borisin barbarians. No martial virtue at all. They ambushed me when I wasn't paying attention. The situation was dire! I was acting in self-defense, forced into it, so I had no choice but to... borrow a little of Lady Jingliu's power. If you want to blame someone, blame them, right?"
Jiaoqiu and Xueyi's mouths twitched as their hearts screamed: You're an Aeon. You couldn't handle this bunch of Borisin? You had to be "forced" to release Jingliu? Could this frame-up be any more obvious?! Do the Borisin know they're supposedly this wronged?
Jingliu seemed not to hear the conversation at all. Her gaze stayed locked on Hoolay from beginning to end, as if she were sizing up a sandbag she had not used in a very long time.
Her wrist shifted slightly. Her longsword rose, its tip pointing from afar at Hoolay's terrified eyes. "Hoolay. Seven hundred years."
Hoolay shuddered from head to toe.
"Let me see." Jingliu took a step forward. The movement was clearly light, yet it made Hoolay feel as though an iceberg were bearing down on him. "Whether that hide and flesh of yours is still as... resistant to beating as it was back then."
The words "resistant to beating" stabbed into Hoolay's heart like two icicles. The humiliating memories from seven hundred years ago surged up with a roar, and fear instantly smashed through what little ferocity remained.
He retreated sharply, his back slamming into the cold bulkhead with a dull thud.
"D-don't get cocky!" Hoolay roared with bluster, though his voice carried a tremor too faint to notice. "So what if you're here? I refuse to