Continuation:
The blooming began at Xue Lian's fingers, but it did not behave like ordinary ice. It did not advance like a disease, nor like slow crystallization, nor like the patient death that had been consuming her body for centuries. It truly bloomed. Small translucent petals appeared over her skin, opening in layers so thin, bluish and white, that they were far too beautiful to be mistaken for healing. The sight was so delicate that, for one horrible instant, Damon almost forgot he was watching an execution.
Xue Lian tried to retreat, but the root inside Han Qirong's chest pulsed again, and the ice petals spread up her arm to her shoulder. The sword still piercing his body stopped obeying her. The blade lost its bluish purity and gained dark veins, as if the void were drinking power directly from the hand holding it. Han Qirong smiled with an almost convincing sadness, and that made him even more repulsive.
