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Mu Qingyan's words made the snowy night feel colder than it already was. Qian Xue was confused. "Who is Chen Shu?" Cai Zhao frowned. "Does Chen Shu even have a younger brother?" They looked at each other. Zhou Zhiqin had already stepped forward, his voice low and tight. "Brother Yan. Are you certain of this?" Mu Qingyan said, "After the high-ranking official in southern Yunnan who created the Five Poison Palms joined the Demon Cult and died, the secrets of that technique fell to the Cult's leader. Nie Hengcheng then passed the skill to his second disciple. Chen Shu." Qian Xue couldn't help whispering, "Prince Yan is being rather absolute. Can anyone outside the Demon Cult learn the Five Poison Palms?" Cai Zhao whispered back, "Fool. The Demon Cult has rules. To learn their arts, you must first enter the Cult. The leader cannot simply pass internal techniques to outsiders." Zhou Zhiqin turned toward Chen Fugu...

As expected, the morning after the moon-sweeping banquet, everyone who had attended it submitted leave requests. Everyone except Xijiu Ge and Li Hanguang. At dawn, the students who had no such luck shuffled into Qingxin Hall with hollow faces, still half-asleep. They stopped in the doorway. At the front of the hall sat the Goddess of Purity. At the back sat the Demon World Proton. Both had their heads down, turning pages in silence, in precisely the same unhurried way. The student nearest the door swallowed his half-formed yawn and said nothing. Word had spread fast. Something had gone wrong at Beichahai the night before. The young lords and ladies attending the banquet had been caught inside an illusion, many of them quietly wounded before anyone understood what was happening. Since the hour of the ox, the carriages of the Five Emperors had been rolling in and out of Yongtian Palace without pause. A disturbance that large was supposed to empty a place out, leave it rattled and dis...

Zhou Man did not yet know what had happened outside her door. She tucked the copper coin and thumb ring away and turned to look at Zhao Nishang, who had just stepped inside. The room was still slightly disordered from her earlier fight with Jin Buhuan. Zhao Nishang noticed, said nothing, drew a quiet breath, and came forward to bow. "The servants of Qiluo Hall mentioned Senior Sister came by this morning. I was away at the time. I apologize for missing you." "It doesn't matter," Zhou Man said. "I wasn't there for you then." She stood, crossed to the writing desk, and picked up the pages she had spent the morning on. Then she glanced back and saw that Zhao Nishang was holding a small porcelain jar, expression cautious, as though working up the nerve to speak. "Is that for me?" Zhao Nishang exhaled. "I had some free time these past two days. I went up the mountain and picked a little snow-bud tea, just finished roasting it. I th...

The snow-capped mountains stretched endlessly in every direction, broken only by the rise and fall of white ridges. Dark smears and uneven lines cut across the pale expanse at irregular depths. Cai Zhao studied the landscape with open curiosity. "Isn't snow supposed to be white? Where is all that black coming from?" She had grown up in Luoying Valley, where the seasons stayed mild and gentle. In winter, a few scattered flakes might drift down before dissolving in the puddles. She had never stood before drifts this tall. Lantian Yu turned back to answer her. "This is still the foot of the mountain. People pass through here constantly, so fresh snow never gets a chance to settle. What you are seeing is the rock and soil underneath. Higher up, the trees lose their snow when the mountain wind strips the branches bare. From a distance, they look dark." He led the group at the front, the wariness he had worn in the inn now gone from his bearing. He walked straight ...