Glancing back, her brows and eyes condensed, seething with murderous intent, nearly rivaling the famed swords enduring daily torment in the Sword Washing Pool.
"There's an issue."
The Storyteller kicked off her high heels without a care and stepped barefoot onto the Qing Shi pathway beside the Sword Washing Pool, where the water barely covered the surface.
Amidst the crisp sound of splashing water, she approached her seat, curling up swiftly as if she were at home, placing her wet jade feet rudely atop the armrest.
Wiping them twice and crossing her legs, she casually pulled a book from the stone cabinet beside her, flopped her head down, and while flipping through the book, said:
"Little Bazhun'an is looking for you."
——"Sword Sutra · Upper"!
"He has an issue 'requesting' me to come over, can't he do it himself, does he even have any manners?" Wen Ting sternly glared at those stinky feet with lingering water stains.