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Now reading: Chapter 167: Sage Tea Gargle from Saya and the Dragon, a Action novel by LordAnvil.

A narrow stream under a crooked cedar. Morning light through mist. I’m kneeling barefoot on the stones, shirt half-buttoned, hair a godsdamn haystack. I spit and gargle again from my bronze cup, scowling at the water like it personally offended .

The lizard’s voice floats down from sowhere above, slow and smug.

“Let guess. Deepthroating a demon again.”

I gargle harder. Swish. Spit with a dramatic ptooey.

“Oh gods, don’t start.”

“I’m just saying. For soone with such a dainty mouth, you do stretch your boundaries admirably.”

I rinse the cup, still muttering. Dip it again. Sip. Gargle.

“I’m not talking to you.”

“You weren’t talking last night either. Too full of brimstone sausage.”

I flip him off without turning around, middle finger dripping cold sage tea.

“Here. Suck on this.”

He chuckles. A low rumble that scatters a few birds from the trees.

“Tell , was it Gregory again or so lesser demon this ti? One of the cloven-hoofed interns maybe? Did you at least get sothing in return—souls, secrets, self-respect?”

“I got a damn good ti and three silver rings. And a sprained jaw.”

I spit again. Wipe my mouth on the back of my hand.

“He owes a goat, rember? I’m just collecting late fees.”

He hums thoughtfully.

“Is that what we’re calling it now? Late fees?”

I toss a pebble in his direction. It plinks off his scales. Harmless.

“Don’t be jealous. You can’t even reach your own tail without groaning these days.”

“At least my lovers don’t bite.”

I stand up, splash water on my face, and retie my blouse—wrong buttons, as always. I glare skyward.

“Bite .”

“I wouldn’t dare. You’re probably cursed down there now. I’d grow a second tongue and start preaching demonic philosophy.”

I smirk despite myself, hands on hips.

“Please. Like you wouldn’t love that. Mister ‘oh I read the Eighteen Hellbooks for fun, look at , I collect soul jar poetry.’”

He stretches lazily on the cliff above, tail curling like a cat’s. Still watching . Still smirking.

“I do love poetry. I just prefer mine recited without gagging.”

I flip him off again. Double this ti.

“Choke on a goat.”

“You’d know.”

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