Chapter 73: First Fortress 25

—Midnight. Gu Xianqing captured An He’s dream.

Before she could react, a smile bloomed on her lips. Her little lamb sure had some skills—coming back alive from a polluted dream.

—But when Gu Xianqing connected to the dream and accessed the scene, the smile on her face vanished abruptly.

Heh, looks like An He had quite the shock before falling asleep.

Gu Xianqing glanced back at her surroundings and halted, refusing to move forward.

On the soft leather sofa sat that person, knees hugged to her chest in the corner, silently watching her. Unfamiliar clothes, unfamiliar demeanor, and eyes brimming with utter unfamiliarity.

The infatuation and dependence were gone. Even the fighting spirit to compete had faded, leaving only wariness, suspicion, and undisguised distrust.

It was strange—Gu Xianqing should have been used to looks like that from An He. Back when they first got acquainted, An He had often gazed at her with that distant, keep-out vibe. Yet now, Gu Xianqing felt… unaccustomed to it.

A strange sourness stirred in her chest, rising like waves with each breath, then ebbing away.

Whatever. It’s not a big deal.

But her words came out a few degrees colder: “You’ve really changed, haven’t you?”

“What do you mean?” An He shot back stiffly.

“Your clothes,” Gu Xianqing said. “Dressed up all fancy like a proper lady.”

Gu Xianqing crossed her arms and mocked her without mercy, but instead of An He’s usual baring of teeth in defiance, she got a gaze laced with complex emotions.

An He stared straight into her eyes, as if searching for answers in their depths.

There were none.

Gu Xianqing lowered her gaze, then lifted it again with her usual smile, burying all emotions beneath it. Her lake-deep eyes held no warmth.

She stepped forward leisurely toward An He, switching to a familiar teasing tone: “Some people spend a few hours in someone else’s room and turn into ungrateful wretches. White-eyed wolf.”

“Turn? Were we ever close enough for that?” An He replied pointedly, her lips twitching downward ever so slightly at the corners.

“Weren’t we?” Gu Xianqing sat on the sofa. In the dream, there was no one else besides her and An He. Gu Xianqing didn’t like others around.

She reached out, looped an arm around An He’s neck, and pulled her close, her tone light as a joke: “You depended on me when you knew nothing. But after one kiss, you start doubting me?”

“That kiss doesn’t count.” An He’s voice was a bit hoarse. “We both know it was just a bet.”

“Fine, it was a bet.” Gu Xianqing shrugged.

The words hung, and the atmosphere fell into a subtle silence for a few seconds.

An He tightened her movable arms—barely a motion, but it creased deep folds into her pants.

She swallowed to push down the tightness in her throat and cut straight to the chase: “Is what Sekhmet said true?”

“You’re so opinionated. Judge for yourself—why ask me?” Gu Xianqing tossed back carelessly.

“Dodging the question means it’s true,” An He said coolly, with a hint of sarcasm. “Right?”

“Think what you want. I don’t care.”

The hand on An He’s shoulder shifted from relaxed to forceful, pressing pain into the back of her neck.

It was bearable at first, but after ten seconds, An He felt like Gu Xianqing was trying to snap her neck. The unrelenting pull reddened her skin, and she gritted her teeth: “Gu Xianqing, let go.”

Gu Xianqing just smiled and said nothing.

“You monster.” The unavoidable pain brought fear, and the words slipped out.

Something in that ignited Gu Xianqing. She suddenly shifted, pinning An He fully to the sofa. An He’s shoulder knocked into the hard edge of the armrest, pain lancing through her consciousness.

“You’re bullying me because I can’t move.” An He glared at Gu Xianqing with pure hostility. The crisis inches away reignited her smoldering will to fight, but in her peripheral vision, she caught a flash of anger in Gu Xianqing’s eyes.

“Angry?” An He laughed in fury. “Are you mad because I doubt you?”

“Angry? Not at all.” Gu Xianqing’s nostrils flared slightly as she stroked An He’s hair and sighed faintly: “You’re the one who’s angry. Look at that glare—like you want to devour me.”

An He grunted.

Gu Xianqing didn’t move, but a bone-deep pain began spreading through An He’s limbs. An He gasped urgently: “Ha… Is this what you meant by making me pay later for deceiving you? You’re not as soft-hearted as I thought.”

Gu Xianqing narrowed her eyes in a smile without hesitation: “Aren’t you doubting me? Doubting that the God and I will destroy this land someday? This is just a taste.”

It hurt worse than a slap. Without lifting a finger, Gu Xianqing made An He feel the agony of cracking bones.

An He thought, Sekhmet’s high regard for Gu Xianqing was no joke. If this woman was her enemy—if Gu Xianqing wanted to torment her—there were a hundred ways.

“Crazy bitch.” The pain finally tore a hiss from An He as she bared her teeth and glared viciously, hunting for a counterattack.

“That’s more like it.” Gu Xianqing praised lightly.

She turned her head, gaze drifting to the empty red chair nearby. The ache in her cheeks finally broke the smile, and a veiled killing intent flickered in her narrowed eyes.

Damn it. We’d only been apart for half a day, and this Saint Lord was already trying to steal control over An He from her.

Half a minute later, Gu Xianqing released An He.

She sat back in her spot, rubbing her knuckles—reddened from gripping so tight—and lowered her eyes.

“An He, don’t you hate being led and controlled by others? Your Saint Lord says a few words, and you’re convinced? I overestimated you.”

Heh. If a few words could make An He submit and follow, why had she put in so much effort to approach and seduce her?

“I wasn’t convinced by the Saint Lord.” An He stayed curled half-reclined, too drained to move, and countered: “But was Sekhmet wrong about anything?”

“All wrong.” Gu Xianqing flashed a mocking sneer. “Like that nonsense about sacrificing the many for a path to survival. Detaching from the individual to preach grand visions—it’s just bloated self-righteousness.”

She glanced at An He: “Does a ‘just’ goal make the suffering it causes understandable? Ignorable?”

An He lowered her eyes: “What right do you have to say that? You don’t care about individual suffering either, do you?”

“Yes.” Gu Xianqing admitted freely. “I don’t care about any of it. But I don’t have grand ambitions either. That’s why I see clearly.”

Gu Xianqing raised her hand, her nimble knuckles flicking lightly in the air. The firelight from some ruin in the Lower City appeared before An He: “This happened while we were eating tonight—you weren’t there. Lola cooked a meal from the food we scavenged. Take a look at the Scavengers’ reactions.”

An He couldn’t help but focus on the scene’s glow. It was from Gu Xianqing’s perspective; she’d recreated their meal in the dream with precise detail—the Scavengers shoving scalding food into their mouths as fast as possible, like they hadn’t eaten in days. An He had no idea if that was true.

“Lola tried to convince everyone to save some for reserves, but no one listened,” Gu Xianqing narrated. “Because Lan Ming said if they didn’t eat their fill now, who knew when the next meal would come. These people will never march to battle as useful weapons, but suffering weighs on their shoulders just the same. An He, don’t you think cold-blooded people wielding power is a disaster for the masses?”

An He pressed her lips together, silent.

“See? Don’t sell your life for your Saint Lord.” Gu Xianqing advised through gritted teeth. “If you ask me, she has some self-destructive tendencies.”

“How so?”

“She never thinks about how to live after resisting the Black Fog’s erosion. The city-state she built with her own hands might crumble in the charge, or maybe survive by force. But it’ll never have room to grow.”

The future wouldn’t belong to Sekhmet. Nor the credit.

“Maybe that’s a separate issue.”

“Then treat it as such.”

The atmosphere sank into silence again.

An He tried to shift, but it was useless: “Aren’t you going to tell me your side?”

“No.” Gu Xianqing cut her off swiftly. “I have nothing to justify. Since you don’t trust me, don’t come crying for help when you’re in a crisis later.”

Gu Xianqing stood and backed away from An He, as if to leave the dream outright.

“Hey!” An He called after her. “Are you going to Sekhmet’s invitation?”

“Going. Why wouldn’t I?” Gu Xianqing turned, a dangerously alluring smile on her face. “If you want to help her kill me, go right ahead and try.”

Gu Xianqing pivoted on her heel, the smile vanishing from her face. Her hair tips arced through the air, leaving An He with a merciless back view.

After two steps, a thread of regret bloomed in Gu Xianqing.

Reckless. This wasn’t how it should go. She needed An He—shouldn’t push her into the enemy camp. All that scheming and contact couldn’t go to waste.

Usually, she sparred plenty with An He; her anger and suspicion were just daily spice. Tonight, though, things spiraled out of control for some reason.

Maybe she’d grown greedy for An He’s trust. Too hasty.

Gu Xianqing shrugged lightly, drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and when she looked up again, her expression was normal.

If Sekhmet wanted to talk, they’d talk.

…

Gu Xianqing left the dream without a backward glance. It lasted less than ten minutes.

Only after her silhouette faded did An He realize she’d toppled onto the sofa like a Weebles wobbling toy, unable to move on her own. But that didn’t matter.

What mattered was she’d meant to have a proper talk with Gu Xianqing, to clarify her stance.

But no chance. Gu Xianqing refused to communicate.

Impulsive. An He felt some regret. Her situation was precarious, like walking that narrow path in the Swamp again—one misstep left or right, and she’d sink. She still needed Gu Xianqing’s help.

They were bound too deeply. She shouldn’t make an enemy of Gu Xianqing.

But why was Gu Xianqing so angry?

The angrier Gu Xianqing got, the more she dodged questions—it only solidified An He’s belief in Sekhmet’s suspicions. Nine times out of ten, it was true.

She’d learned about her battle comrade from an outsider.

The question was, if Gu Xianqing was truly colluding with the God, whose side should she take?

An He sighed.

The dream began to dissipate, the pain on her body fading slowly.

In the dreamless void, time felt nonexistent—until someone nudged her. An He opened her eyes to find Sekhmet waking her.

Tina was no longer in her spot; her clothes had changed to a bulky protective vest. She stood quietly in the left corner by the wall, like a machine awaiting activation.

It was the dead of night now, yet Sekhmet remained fully dressed. From her expression, this Saint Lord hadn’t slept a wink.

This cautious against Gu Xianqing entering her dreams?

Half an hour later.

An He heard a soft sound outside the bedroom. Sekhmet had pulled all the outer guards; the entire 35th floor was empty of activity.

Sekhmet stood in the room’s center. At the moment the noise filtered through the door crack, her hand reached toward her waist. Her cloak hid the motion—An He guessed it was a weapon.

Creeeak—

The bedroom door cracked open, then the left panel swung inward slowly from an internal push.

Gu Xianqing’s figure appeared in the doorway.

She stood beaming in the shadows outside, the room’s light not reaching her.

An He watched closely and noticed Gu Xianqing had tied her hair with a new ribbon, her eyes sparkling with no trace of fear—like she was just dropping by a neighbor’s.

As Gu Xianqing stepped through the threshold, the light-shadow line crept up from her toes, over her calves, past her sleeves, across those eyes—until she stood fully illuminated.

Her gaze swept the room, lingering little on An He. More aloof and fierce than before, Gu Xianqing smiled radiantly: “Nice to see you again, all three of you.”