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... /p>

Qingran froze.

"What is it?"

[Fengya’s cultists — all of them. She’s sent them after you. One hundred strong.]

Qingran’s heart didn’t race, but her pulse deepened, coiling low like a storm held still beneath the skin. Calm wasn’t optional anymore — it was survival.

"How far?" she asked aloud, her voice a quiet rasp in the dim hallway.

[Thirty minutes. They were given direct coordinates. She told them where to look.]

Of course she did. Fengya ...

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