Before Feng stepped into the springs, he stood at the washing station, scooping warm water from a wooden basin to cleanse his body.
Steam curled around him as he poured the water over his shoulders, rinsing away the sweat and grime from his journey.
He worked meticulously, scrubbing the dried blood from his arms and legs before running his fingers through his tangled black hair, feeling the knots loosen under the steady stream.
As his hands brushed over his ribs, a sharp jolt of pain shot through him—a lingering reminder of Yi Bei's last attack.
His grip tightened, and a cold anger flared in his eyes, the memory of their clash igniting a fierce determination deep within him.
I definitely could have beaten him if I had played my cards better, Feng thought, as ferocity boiled within him.
There were many things he believed he could have improved during that fight.
