He untied her.
He did this without commentary, which she received with the quiet dignity of a woman who had been rescued from bandits, claimed by a cultivator, promoted to personal maid, advanced an entire cultivation stage, and bound to a rock for several hours in the course of a single narrative arc, and had developed a philosophy of accepting events as they arrived.
While he worked the cord loose, the conversation continued around him.
"You cannot take us," he said. Not debating it. Filing it.
"We are not asking to enter the Trial with you," Song Mei said. She had found her clothes, or most of them, and was in the process of reassembling herself into a person with a presentation. "We are asking to remain at the Trial's vicinity. In case you require assistance upon exit."
"I won't."
"You might."
"Song Mei."
