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Song Yuzhi was tall and striking. Cai Zhao was slight and slender. With one hand pressed to his chest wound and the other resting on Cai Zhao's shoulder, Song Yuzhi looked less like a sect elder and more like a willow clinging to a cliff face. The senior disciples of Wu Gang's lineage were still nursing their own injuries, but that didn't stop them from circling like flies — trading looks, muffling grins, milking the spectacle of two people scandalously close for all it was worth. Chang Ning watched them and felt a familiar disgust rise in his throat. I hate celebrities. I hate decent people even more. He stepped over to Cai Zhao and lowered his voice. "If you keep holding him up like that, I really might find myself a new wife." Cai Zhao, galvanized by the threat, immediately offloaded Song Yuzhi onto the two nearest disciples. He announced loudly that he needed to check whether the master's other wounds were serious and whether anyone had thought to bring an...

They reached the guest courtyard to find it hollow and still. Most of the servants had scattered. Cai Zhao dragged one out from behind a door — the man was shaking so hard he could barely speak. She asked where the Wu brothers had gone. He hadn't seen them leave. Only remembered hearing, at midday, that they'd called for water and charcoal to be brought to their room. Manager Wang had offered flowers, fruit, incense — the usual offerings. Wu Gang had waved it all off. No need for a sacrificial table either, Wu Xiong had said. Our elder brother was never one for ceremony. Just bow in the direction he passed. That's enough. Cai Zhao and Chang Ning looked at each other. A farewell ritual. The kind men perform before they do something they don't plan to walk back from. She pressed further. Anything else? The servant thought hard. Oh — Manager Wang had asked whether to continue the medicine broth today. Wu Xiong said no. They were well enough now. It was time to go. Manager ...

Chang Ning grabbed Cai Zhao's wrist and ran straight for the cliff. She had to ask. "Why are we going there?" "You said it yourself." His robes snapped in the wind as he moved. "Qingque Sect has held for two hundred years. Wanshuiqianshan Cliff was carved out of nothing. What are a few foreign knives compared to that?" Cai Zhao thought it over. "Ah. We're going to find out who sent them." "People are already dying," Chang Ning said flatly. "Better to learn the reason fast than drag this out into something worse." She flinched at how easily he said it. People are already dying. As though it were weather. He stopped mid-stride and turned on her. "Listen. Muwei Palace has Master Qi, a hall full of senior disciples, and the third son of Song leading his people to assist. They do not need us. What they need is for us to find out why a demon cult army just walked through the front door. Unless you'd like to s...

The morning broke clear and wide. No haze, no clouds. The kind of day that felt like a promise. Qingjingzhai — the side study Chang Ning opened his eyes slowly. The true energy moving through him was warm, steady, cycling through each meridian like water finding its course. His dantian sat calm at his center. He stared at his own fingertips for a long moment, then pointed at the teapot resting on the table ten steps away. It shattered. Fine as cracked ice. He paused. Adjusted. Waved his hand again at three teacups lined in a row. Each split into three exact pieces — clean as cuts from a blade. He looked at them a while. Still not enough. Without the injury and poisoning from over a year ago, he would be further along than this. He had lost time he could not get back. What remained now was clearing the final retention pass in his qi circulation and reclaiming what had been taken from him. He would not rush. But he would not wait either. Pozhuxuan Ding Zhuo had been up since before the b...