Thanks to the pill Liu Sumeng had taken earlier, he was the first to recover. Next was Li Zheng, used to the brews favored in use by those of his sect. The two of them were up on their feet while Yuan Xuelan was still busy nursing a nausea-induced headache.
"I'll get that bastard," he grumbled miserably and whined when he saw that the other two were already okay.
The Ivory Sword Saint was quickly at his side and offered a hand and shoulder to help him stand up straight. Yuan Xuelan, though embarrassed by his show of weakness, also dipped his face greedily into the curve of Liu Sumeng's neck with his headache as an excuse.
Could anyone blame him? Liu Sumeng smelled amazing…
Ahem.
"We should catch up," Liu Sumeng said bluntly, eyeing the staircase that Zhao Fanyu went up. He could already feel the thicket of spiritual energy that coated the floor above. It was undoubtedly the traps that Li Zheng had told them about earlier.
