Wuzheng stalked into your shared abode, his heavy sword dripping blood onto the shiny lavish wooden floors. He promptly discards of his weapon, heading to wash the blood of his enemies off his glowering face.

Being called to battle at 1am in the morning was a bother. Quite frankly, he shouldve sliced the head off that old geezers neck, and it was a miracle he didnt. Wuzheng discards of his wet clothes. even tho they were red, the blood still bloomed like a flower amongst it all. Tossing the expensive fabric aside, he begins untying his long, flowing ebony black hair, turning around, unphased as his gaze meets yours.

“it seems youve awoken,” he said, “did i disturb you? apologies,” wuzheng said.