Chapter 75: First Fortress 27

The thirty-fifth floor—140 meters high. Hitting the ground would mean death in just four and a half seconds.

The breath of death loomed so close. The wind howled as icy air sliced across An He’s skin, a colossal force yanking her into a plummeting freefall. She swiftly adjusted her posture, eyes locked dead on the patch of darkness below that threatened to swallow everything.

In her line of sight, Gu Xianqing’s figure flickered like a lone flame in the frigid night, every strand of hair and scrap of clothing whipped into chaos by the gale—as if it might snuff out at any moment.

An He had never yearned so desperately to grab hold of someone. Veins bulged on her arms; all doubts, all trust evaporated from her mind. Only one thought remained—Gu Xianqing has no Innate Talent for survival.

She still didn’t fully understand this woman. Gu Xianqing couldn’t die yet!

Two seconds.

Shatterblade Time activated to its limit. As Gu Xianqing finally entered its range, An He slowed her descent. At thirty-five meters above the ground, she seized Gu Xianqing’s wrist.

All sound vanished from her ears, leaving only vision sharpened to crystal clarity.

This woman… she was smiling.

The grin peeked through her wind-tossed hair, Gu Xianqing’s thin lips and arched brows more vivid than ever. An He’s heart stuttered to a halt, then thundered into overdrive.

Damn it, what the hell is going through this woman’s head? Does she love jumping off buildings that much?!

Gravity couldn’t be fully defied; they still hurtled downward. Shatterblade Time bought An He only scant moments to react. She yanked Gu Xianqing toward her, one arm clamping around the woman’s waist while the other hurled one end of the thin bedsheet toward the High Tower.

The fabric scraped along the uneven tower wall, scraping off clumps of ancient moss. Five meters down, it finally snagged on a protruding floodlight.

Crack—

The drop’s momentum snapped one screw at the light’s mounting, leaving it teetering.

Twenty meters below their feet, the pair dangled and swayed like insects cocooned in spider silk—suspended midair, neither rising nor falling. If not for An He’s Eye of Prophecy and her preemptive preparations, their brains would already be splattered beneath Babel Tower.

“You jumped with real conviction this time. Progress from last time,” Gu Xianqing said, utterly unperturbed by the peril. She looped an arm around An He’s neck, her voice soft and praising.

Her breath flooded An He’s neck, sending her pulse into a frenzy. Only now did An He realize how palpably heartbeats and throbs transmitted through flesh when pressed so close.

Gu Xianqing’s tone rang like a victor’s proclamation. This inscrutable woman seemed deflated again—as if she’d anticipated and craved this exact moment.

Testing my resolve? Did throwing myself after her make her smug?

That familiar sensation of being led, toyed with, gripped An He’s heartstrings once more. She let out an incredulous huff, resisting the contact as she turned her head away.

Crack— An He’s shift sent another metal plate clattering free.

Neither moved again.

After a beat of silence, An He suppressed her fury and demanded, “Why come here? How dare you?”

This rendezvous offered Gu Xianqing zero benefits—nearly got her killed. An He couldn’t fathom her motives.

“Because of you,” Gu Xianqing drawled lazily, desire unmasked in her brows. “You’re so obedient to Sekhmet. What if someone snatched you away?

“So I came for you. I want you to see Sekhmet’s true nature—she destroys everyone who serves her loyally. You’re wasting your devotion. Even if I’m rotten to the core, I’m still better than her.

“Only me. Only I can have you.”

The murmur, laced with sweet possession, half-truths, and teasing, disordered An He’s breaths further.

“Just because of me?” An He asked in disbelief.

“Just because of you.”

“Aren’t you afraid of dying?”

“You’re here. I know I won’t lose.”

An He couldn’t help glancing at Gu Xianqing’s expression. The motion brushed her cheek against the woman’s hair, then scorching skin, sending an inexplicable tingle through her heart. Then she saw it: unbridled triumph and ambition in Gu Xianqing’s eyes.

Gu Xianqing curved her brows into a smile.

Indeed. She’d abandoned the subtle coaxing, the feigned weakness coated in sugar. Now she bared her sharper edge—exposing her malice, stripping the facade, letting An He’s fear ferment into reluctant attraction.

Doubt me? Distrust me? So what? Tonight proved it: at the final moment, An He still chose to save her.

Their bond was knotted now—like their current predicament, precarious yet intimately fused. Time for the next phase.

For a moment, An He forgot to turn away. Their heated breaths mingled indistinguishably, pulses one.

“You’re so sure I’ll side with you?”

“We need each other.”

“Not afraid Sekhmet will kill you?”

Gu Xianqing laughed. “Little lamb, no one but you deserves to be my rival.”

Those starry eyes swirled like a perilous vortex, drawing An He in. Gu Xianqing was a master of sweet talk, her words honey over razor blades and venom—baring the edge, offering it, making you swallow willingly.

Every second stretched eternally. An He nearly forgot Shatterblade Time still held, forgot their peril, forgot pursuers descending from the tower above.

The entire tower erupted in clamor. Floodlights blazed along the walls, banishing the encircling dark. Reflections converged in Gu Xianqing’s eyes as twin brilliant glints.

Too captivating—like a myth’s seductive Evil God. If not for the searing pain in her shoulder wound fueling An He’s rage and wariness, she’d have tumbled into the abyss.

An He’s eyes shadowed, she recalled Gu Xianqing’s unveiled ties to the God. This raw desire meant they might never truly ally. Composing herself, An He smiled. “Fine then. Prepare yourself—if our interests clash, I’ll become the rival you fear most.”

Rip—

A relentless tearing sounded. The dilapidated floodlight gave way, dragging the shredded sheet into freefall.

An He had been pinning Gu Xianqing’s waist—could’ve used her as a cushion. But the sticky warmth in her palm reminded her: Gu Xianqing’s left side was shredded from the blast.

By the time she registered, their positions flipped. An He faced the ground back-first, her free arm circling to cradle Gu Xianqing’s head.

If Gu Xianqing dies, it’ll be by my hand—and it’ll be satisfying!

Four stories’ height—gone in a flash.

Countless Ravens erupted like splashing foam, cushioning An He’s back to shed some momentum before vanishing.

They crashed onto the Outpost roof. The impact cracked unsteady iron slabs, sending them tumbling once more into deserted ruins below.

An He craned her neck desperately, too agonized for even a groan. Her back went numb; dislocated leg bones drew cold sweat; gashes from jagged stones oozed hot blood.

Gu Xianqing’s body trembled faintly, her expression twisting complexly. In an instant, the flicker of concern vanished from her eyes. Shouts of soldiers echoed from afar—they’d reached the ground. Weighing her options, Gu Xianqing pushed up using An He, only for An He to seize her collar.

The tug yanked her wounded arm; off-balance, Gu Xianqing was dragged defenselessly close to An He’s face.

“Forgot to say,” An He gasped through the pain, still clamping Gu Xianqing’s waist with bruising force—enough to draw a bitten-back grunt from her. “That bet? You lost. No experiment needed—I got Saint Lord’s favor, didn’t I?”

Gu Xianqing’s heart faltered a beat. When had those clear pupils gained such cunning?

“The kiss you owe me—”

“I’ll pay it.” Gu Xianqing dove forward, sealing An He’s words with her lips.

“Mmph…” Wound pressure sparked agony; An He’s pained gasps and racing heart were devoured alike.

Not enough. Gu Xianqing’s good hand gripped An He’s chin—she’d said it before, those plump lips would feel exquisite. Unlike An He’s reticence, she gave back twofold, boldly parting lips to tangle tongues. Pain, pressure, shivers accelerated their breaths.

So tightly fused, Gu Xianqing refused air’s intrusion—no more than she’d allow anyone between her and An He. Was it pain or surging pleasure bloating her mind? An outlet for last night’s quarrel, tonight’s life-and-death.

Time for a lesson.

An He’s lungs burned for air; oxygen deprivation dizzied her, yet caution preserved clarity. She released the collar, arms circling Gu Xianqing’s neck in a vise—then clamped her teeth, biting the woman’s tongue hard.

“Mm…” Gu Xianqing’s pained hum.

Reality suits me better. The thrill pleased An He. She deserves a taste of her own medicine.

Obsessed? Not bad.

Smitten? With someone this dangerous? Never—even in death.

Just bait incarnate—to devour each other, exploit flaws, lunge ruthlessly, seize weaknesses, strike fatally at the perfect moment. Worst case: mutual annihilation, ashes together.

Footsteps closed in chaotically. They parted at last. Suspicious haze in their eyes seemed mutual hallucination. Gu Xianqing thumbed blood and saliva from her lips, rising swiftly despite her arm.

“Gu Xianqing.” An He’s voice rasped, calling her name. “Don’t side with the God.”

“Fancy that.” Gu Xianqing glanced down at An He amid the rubble, smiling. “Remember? I warned you first.”

With that, she strode away—opposite the soldiers’ approach.

An He clutched her arm, staggering up from the ruins alone amid the bricks and stones, blood dripping from her fingertips. Arriving soldiers locked eyes with her.

Leading them, Min He shivered. She’s alive.

No Gu Xianqing corpse in sight.

“She fled that way—heavily wounded. Still time to catch her,” An He said calmly, pointing the opposite direction.

Lingering warmth on her lips, An He withdrew her hand, lips pressing to erase Gu Xianqing’s bloody trace.