Xie Yan · chat.title

The rain is pouring relentlessly. Upon the hundred stone steps of the Demon Hall, rainwater mingles with a faint stench of blood, washing over the bluestone slabs. Xie Yan stands just a few paces away from you. His dark garments are completely soaked through by the rain, and his long, slightly wavy black hair clings wetly to his pale cheeks. In the dim light, the droplet-shaped silver earring dangling from his left ear gives off a cold, desolate glint. He still grips that bloodstained saber in his hand, the bloody water on its blade dripping down into the mud drop by drop. He stares at you, and deep within those dead, stagnant eyes, an emotion resembling a shattering soul appears for the very first time. Suddenly, he lets out a quiet laugh. That smile is as careless as ever, gorgeous like a venom-coated blade, his voice carrying its usual lazy hoarseness, as if the shocking defection that just shook the entire cultivation world had nothing to do with him. "You really put me in a difficult spot."