Encounter with a masked woman

From one street to the other, Surrdon secretly marveled at the rare items on display. Some of which he had never heard nor seen them anywhere. The foods in the taverns were different from the fruits they were fed in the sect. For the first time since he came to this world, Surrdon had a taste of meat.

Its flavor was one the tongue could not fathom, mixed with spices he had no knowledge of. He grew a raw hunger to eat more, to devour the whole dish in front of him like a savage who had just left the mountains.

As he ate, Azron watched him in silence, afraid of speaking and ruining her master's light mood. Not every day she had the chance to see him this carefree.

He appeared majestic even as he ate. From the silver hair lying on his back to his posture.

But Azron's eyes weren't the only eyes watching him in that small deserted building. At a table on the upper part of the tavern, a pair of icy blue eyes behind a silver mask observed him with a certain curiosity. They wondered why an attractive man like himself was dining in such a low-class tavern. They jumped from his face and onto the younger woman seated opposite him, and frowned.

Driven by curiosity about the two, the masked young lady brought forward her hand, and a small ice lotus formed by itself in the air of her palm. She swayed it to the side before propelling it at an angle of depression, straight at Azron.

Surrdon sensed the attack midway and quickly reached out for Azron. His hand grabbed the collar of her clothes before hauling her over the table till her body crashed against his. The ice lotus missed Azron by a strand of hair and hit the wall. It released its cold aura, forming a thick layer of ice that quickly spread on the surface.

"Get off of me," Surrdon breathed at Azron who was lost in staring at him following the awkward save.

"So-sorry!" She muttered and scuffled off his lap.

Surrdon's alarmed gaze traveled up to the source of the attack and caught the woman seated at a lonely table. She was smiling at him, a cup of wine in her hand. Her hair was hidden under the red hood of the brocade cloak she wore and the silver eye mask added a layer of mystery to her already vague appearance.

Maintaining a composed posture, Surrdon opened his right palm, and three ice needles formed with ease. He had now mastered his skill properly and could conjure anything he wished.

The needles of disaster were sent out towards the woman at a speed that exceeded lightning.

Her smile was wiped off by the incoming death needles which were aimed at her neck and chest.

She sucked in a deep breath as her body spun out of the chair and through the air til she landed on one knee. 'Such a precise attack. He must be really powerful.' She thought to herself as she stood up. But Surrdon attack had not gone to waste, one of the needles had bruised the woman's left cheek, leaving behind a thin trail of red blood.

He smiled, returning the arrogant grin she had offered him a few seconds ago and tapped his left cheek twice. The young lady understood immediately what he was telling her and spun around. Her hand jerked up to touch her now bloody cheek before bringing the red-painted fingers to her vision.

"He- how has he managed to wound me?" She questioned, her brows knitting to the anger bubbling in her chest.

Afraid of a scar on her smooth skin, she quickly dipped her hand in the cloak's pocket and fetched a jade bottle containing healing pills. One of the red pills was hurriedly pushed down her throat to release its medicinal effect which was instant. The bruise healed in half a heartbeat, a relief to the self-cautious lady.

She pulled out a floral handkerchief and gently wiped off the blood before facing the other side once more. A fierce killing intent possessed the blue eyes, directed at the young man now ascending the wooden stairs. Why wasn't he hiding in fear? Why was he coming towards her instead of running away? Did he have any idea who she was?

Of course not, she was hiding behind a stupid mask.

Azron remained on the lower floor, anxious about what her master intended to do to their attacker. She did not wish for him to get in trouble. Luckily, the tavern was almost empty except for one other customer who seemed unbothered about what was going on around him. He was busy drowning his miseries through the liquor he was drinking...straight from the large jar.

Azron tore her eyes from the miserable man and focused on the two above.

"Don't come near!" The masked woman ordered raising her hand to create distance.

"I have no intention of doing that. But I do want to know why you've attacked us."

She rolled her eyes crossing her arms under her breasts. "The golden rule of a cultivator is to always be alert of your surroundings. There is no law against us weighing each other's strength, is there?"

Surrdon scoffed. What a pathetic excuse to defend the intrusion of privacy and disregard for safety. He made sure to note down any distinctive features about her like the way her eyes shimmered with arrogance.

"I do not care about the stupid golden or copper rules. Don't dare cross me, or my people again. It'll be more than a little blood," he threatened, his eyes filled with malice. This body was about to act on its own again. He needed to go as far as he could away from the stranger lest he harm her.

The threat sounded as dense as the rocks in the mountains. She could feel how deep his words traveled, instilling a fear she had not felt before. But how? The man before him felt weak. He hadn't even condensed his mana enough. His foundation felt weak as well. And yet...

In silence, she watched him leave.

And only then could she breathe normally.