Han Yu had just finished polishing the blade of his new glaive—freshly named "Dual Fury" after a bit of soul-searching and a snack—when he heard an all-too-familiar voice behind him, carrying the light scent of herbal powder and the heavy weight of passive aggression.
"So. You do remember the sect still has alchemists."
Han Yu flinched.
He turned slowly to see Li Mei, arms crossed, a tiny porcelain box in one hand and an expression on her face that could sour spirit wine. She was dressed in her usual alchemist's robes, slightly stained from long hours in her cauldron room, and her long sleeves twitched like she was debating whether to throw the pill box at his head or shove it down his throat.
"Senior Sister Li!" Han Yu put on his brightest, fakest smile. "I was just about to visit you! I was—uh—recovering from mortal injuries! Trapped in illusions! Nearly eaten alive! All for the sect!"
Her glare intensified.
