July 24th, 2032 | Don’t Talk About It
Kiera caught the cultivator in her arms, making it before she hit the ground because the woman hit major branches on the way down. "Gah, I fucking hate this!"
She moved the woman to a stream, stripped the wheezing cultivator naked, and checked her pulse.
"I hate you." Kiera declared breathlessly, glaring at the woman, "I hate your people for what you did to Kazey five millennia ago. I would've ripped your throat out if he let me.
But he didn't—he needs you alive to keep the people he cares about safe, so I'll save your life.
Either way, I wouldn't let you die from a fucking orgasm. I'd leave you with enough dignity to watch me rip your throat out with dry clothing."
The slang riddler examined the woman's body with her teeth clenched. "Assuming I can save you.
You'll die in a few minutes after using that much Qi. You couldn't save yourself, even if you cultivated right now. That means…."