Re-birth: The Beginning after the End - Chapter 92

Chapter 92: DANCING IN THE DARK

Li Hua had barely closed her eyes when the bed dipped beneath her.

Instinct reacted before thought. The familiar weight of her daggers materialized in her grip, her breath sharp as steel. But before she could strike, a strong arm snaked around her, a grip so deceptively relaxed that it would’ve seemed harmless—if not for the raw power simmering beneath it.

“My little tempest.”

The voice was a low rasp beside her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. Mo Xing lay atop her covers, dark eyes catching the moonlight like liquid silver. The way he looked at her—like she was something fascinating, something he intended to unravel—set her nerves ablaze.

Her body coiled, instincts screaming at the proximity of someone so overwhelmingly powerful. Even without moving, his presence pressed into her senses, thickening the air between them like the first crackle of a storm.

Spiritual essence surged beneath her skin, ready to detonate. The celestial diamonds in her ears chimed—a warning, not a song. “Why are you here?” Her voice was a blade, sharp enough to wound.

A smirk ghosted across his lips, slow, deliberate. “Tell me, little tempest—does my presence not set your heart racing?”

Her grip on her daggers tightened. “The only thing racing is my patience.”

He moved.

Not fast. Not aggressively. But with the kind of confidence that made her breath catch—his body closing the space between them until the heat of him wrapped around her like an unseen force. His breath stirred her hair, and for the first time, her body reacted before her mind could steel itself.

“Such thorns.” His voice was smooth, rich with dark amusement. “But I see through your defenses, little tempest. You carry shadows too deep for your years—secrets that whisper behind those fierce eyes.”

Goosebumps chased down her arms. He was too close. Too knowing.

“So, you broke into my bedroom because you find me… interesting?” She kept her voice steady, though something inside her was fraying, unraveling at the edges.

Mo Xing chuckled, a deep, indulgent sound that slid under her skin like silk and sin.”Broke in? If you understood what I do, you’d know why I couldn’t stay away. Your soul sings a song I’ve never heard before.” His gaze flickered to her lips, then back up, slow enough that her pulse betrayed her.

“Let. Go.”

The command carried killing intent, but his grip only softened enough to tease—a reminder of the power he held in check.

The air thickened.

Two predators, circling. Waiting for the first strike.

His gaze traced her—not just assessing, but savoring. Like he was peeling back her layers, unraveling her defenses without even lifting a finger.

“And if I do?” His voice was silk wrapped around steel. “Will you show me the wisdom of your years… or the lethal grace your soul remembers?”

Li Hua smiled—a slow, deadly thing, all ice and edges. The celestial diamonds in her ears caught the moonlight, gleaming like tiny captured stars. “I think we both know exactly what I’ll do.”

Something flickered in his gaze. Something dark. Something hungry.

The moment his grip loosened, she exploded into motion.

Her elbow shot toward his solar plexus, her leg hooking around his in an attempt to take him down—but Mo Xing moved like a phantom, catching her momentum and twisting it against her.

They hit the floor together, his body caging hers, the movement so seamless that it sent a thrill down her spine.

Li Hua sprang back, landing in a defensive stance, her body humming with adrenaline. After everything—the pain, the grief, the loss—this fight was clarity. Something to focus on.

“I’ll make you regret coming here.”

Mo Xing’s smile was slow, almost languid, like he was savoring the moment. “Promises, promises, little tempest.” His stance mirrored hers, but his gaze burned.

Not with challenge.

With possession.

“Though I must admit,” he added, his voice dropping lower, “seeing you like this—fierce, untamed—it makes my blood burn in the most delicious ways.”

Li Hua scoffed—a sharp, dismissive sound that carried all her practiced disdain. Then she lunged.

Strike after strike, every move fast and ruthless, but Mo Xing weaved through them with infuriating ease. He didn’t counter. Didn’t attack.

Just watched. Studied.

Toyed.

“Stop analyzing me and fight properly,” she growled.

She feinted right, then struck left, aiming for his knee.

His laughter—deep, rolling, intoxicating—sent a shiver through her. “As you wish, little tempest.”

He struck back.

His movements were precise, effortless. His attacks didn’t overwhelm, but they landed with measured force—just enough to make her arms sting when she blocked.

The fight escalated.

She struck with lethal precision; he turned each strike into a teasing counter, catching her wrist, trapping her leg, only to let her slip free just long enough to remind her he could have ended it at any moment.

Frustration blazed through her veins.

She launched a final, ruthless combination—only to find herself suddenly against the wall, wrists pinned above her head, his body an impossible wall of heat pressing her against cold stone.

Li Hua inhaled sharply, then cursed the mistake. He smelled of rain-soaked earth and night-blooming flowers, with an undertone of something darker that made her head spin.

“Caught you, little tempest.”

She twisted against his grip, but it was like fighting a mountain. His presence consumed her senses—all heat and power and dangerous intent.

His free hand cupped her jaw, thumb tracing the curve of her cheek as he tilted her face to his. “Now,” he murmured, voice barely more than a breath, “tell me why you move like a seasoned assassin.”

“Let me go.”

His lips curled, slow and knowing. “Make me believe you want that.”

She couldn’t.

Heavens help her, she should have fought harder, should have meant it. But the air between them had transformed into something electric, dangerous.

His gaze flickered down—to her parted lips.

Lingered.

Everything shifted.

His free hand ghosted down her side, a whisper of heat that barely touched yet left trails of fire in its wake.

Her pulse thundered.

That damned knowing smirk played at his lips. “Exquisite,” he murmured, the word seemingly drawn from him unwillingly.

His thumb brushed her lower lip, feather-light. Her breath hitched traitorously.

His eyes darkened to impossible depths.

“What other delicious secrets are you hiding, my tempest?”

The question hung in the charged air between them.

Li Hua said nothing.

For the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure if she was fighting her enemy—

Or herself.

The realization sent ice through her veins, a stark contrast to the burning heat of his proximity. Her heart thundered against her ribs, each beat a betrayal of the composure she fought to maintain.

“I’m not hiding anything,” Li Hua spat, still testing his grip. “And you still haven’t explained why you’re really here.” The words came out sharper than steel, but they felt hollow even to her own ears.

“Haven’t I?” His breath ghosted across her cheek, carrying secrets in its warmth. The proximity sent warning signals racing down her spine, yet something deeper, more treacherous, made her want to lean into that dangerous heat. Mo Xing was close enough that she could feel the curve of his smile, sense the predatory grace that lurked beneath his carefully maintained façade. “Your soul calls to me, little tempest. For the first time in centuries, I find myself unable to resist such a call.”

The words hung between them, heavy with implications that made her instincts scream in warning. Yet she remained still, caught in the gravity of his presence like a moth dancing too close to flame. The celestial diamonds in her ears hummed softly, resonating with an energy that seemed to pulse in time with her racing heart.

“I wanted to give you time to grow,” he continued, each word carrying layers of meaning that echoed through the shadows. “But I found myself… drawn back.” The admission carried weight, centuries of restraint crumbling like autumn leaves in a storm.

Her laugh was sharp and bitter, edged with steel that barely masked her uncertainty. “So you decided to break into a young girl’s bedroom at night?” The words emerged as both accusation and deflection. “How noble of you.”

“Noble?” Mo Xing’s eyes glinted with dangerous amusement. “I’ve been called many things across the centuries, but never that.” His free hand cupped her cheek, touch surprisingly gentle despite the steel grip that still held her wrists. “Besides, you’re no ordinary young girl, are you? The way you fight, the way you move…” His voice dropped lower, almost intimate, his thumb brushing across her skin. “The way your killing intent feels as natural as breathing.”