Su Chen's gaze passed calmly over Nalan Jie's face, which looked far too young.
Facing the old marshal's expectant, anxious question, he did not answer directly.
He merely set his bamboo hat on the table nearby, then picked up his teacup and took another small sip.
His unhurried composure gave Nalan Yanran, whose heart was in her throat, a strange sense of reassurance, yet also stirred an even deeper bewilderment.
At last, Su Chen set down his teacup.
"Drive it out?"
He repeated the phrase, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"No, that would be too wasteful."
"For something that has condensed the power of its source, I prefer to call it 'extraction.'"
Extraction?
Nalan Jie and Nalan Yanran both froze, unable to understand what the word meant.
Su Chen gave them no time to think it over.
He rose and walked over to Nalan Jie.
"Sit still, focus your mind, and don't resist."
His eight calm words carried an unquestionable air of command.
Nalan Jie had spent his life on the battlefield, obeying only the Imperial Family's decrees. Yet at that moment, he did not hesitate. He immediately did as instructed, sitting cross-legged on the warm jade chair and closing his eyes.
He entrusted his life entirely to the mysterious young man before him.
Nalan Yanran watched tensely, her delicate hands clenched tight inside her sleeves. She even found herself holding her breath.
Su Chen raised one finger.
It was long and clean, with distinct knuckles.
At his fingertip, a flame quietly rose.
It was unlike any flame Nalan Yanran had ever seen.
It was neither crimson nor bright yellow, but a clear, tender green, like willow leaves in early spring.
The flame was small, no bigger than a bean sprout. It burned quietly, giving off no trace