"Xian, is the wound on your neck all right?"
Everyone had gathered at the inn. Seeing Xian standing with her arms folded, distractedly watching the restaurant outside, someone suddenly brought it up. After what had happened to their two junior sisters, Jin Jing and Li Zhu, they had gained a deeper understanding of infection by the living dead.
They had initially brushed off the urgent warnings sent by the potion masters. After seeing the truth with their own eyes, however, they grew more wary of anyone who had been scratched. As it happened, there was one such person in their own group. Even a charming woman who inspired tenderness could not dispel the shadow the living dead had cast over their hearts.
Xian turned back and gave them a gentle look, a trace of hurt and disappointment in her eyes. "Do you truly care about me?"
When her gaze swept over him, the man inexplicably felt a chill run down his spine. He laughed awkwardly, but before he could explain, she walked straight back to her room. The door closed on its own behind her.
Once inside, Xian shed her previous gentle, jade-like grace and angrily swept everything on the table onto the floor.
Amid the clatter and crashes, the people outside exchanged looks and fell silent.
Xian listened carefully to the sounds outside, then took a bronze mirror out of her storage space. Little by little, she unwound the white cloth around her neck, exposing the marks left by the living dead. The five claw marks stood out clearly against her fair neck, like black blotches bleeding into white paper.
"A pack of cowards," Xian muttered. Picking up the white cloth she had tossed aside, she wiped the marks off her neck bit by bit, then patiently brought out