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 into the driving wind, eyes bright, shoulders loose, like a man who had just come home.
Mu Qingyan smiled and asked, "Senior Lan seems to know this place well. Did he grow up near the snow mountains?"
Lantian Yu's face colored slightly. He answered with deliberate ease. "Not a bad guess. I was born in the western snow country. I climbed these peaks from the time I was small. Even my footwork was trained on ice. Back then, I..."
A soft, pretty cry rose from the back of the group. It was pitched just right, neither too faint to miss nor loud enough to alarm. It belonged to the beautiful concubine, who had caught her foot on something.
A handsome middle-aged man steadied her. "Qinong, your feet are small. If you cannot manage the terrain, go back down."
Qinong's eyes curved with warmth. Her words carried a gentle tease. "Master is always so attentive. But where the master walks, Qinong walks."
More than half the men in the group watched the exchange with envy. The handsome middle-aged man received her affection like a wooden post receives rain. He let go of her arm and kept moving. He had done her kindness and lost all credit for it. The other men could only shake their heads.
It had been just over two hours since they set out. Back at Qingque Sect at this same hour, Hibiscus Jade would be carrying a small pot of tea to Cai Zhao. But up here, the mountains had already swallowed the light. The sky pressed down, dark and heavy.
As they had been warned along the road: snow mountains punish greed. Move too fast, misjudge a step, and the ice will take you. One wrong foot into a hidden ditch or off a snow shelf, and the collapsing powder buries you before anyone can dig.
Lantian Yu scanned the middle distance for a long moment. Then his expression eased and he raised one hand. "There. Those black shapes ahead. That is where we are sleeping tonight."
Jin Baohui was breathing like a laboring ox. He nearly buckled at the knees when he heard it. He had required rotating shifts of guards to drag and half-carry his more than two hundred kilograms across the mountain. Getting him this far had been a small feat.
The second person suffering was the silent master and his two servants. The master's face had gone chalk-white, his legs trembling at the knees. He had no internal strength to fall back on.
After a confused and shuffling half hour, the group finally arrived.
Cai Zhao turned slowly in place, looking left, then right. "I finally understand why we left in the afternoon," she said.
It was a sheltered valley. Five or six hunting houses of various sizes, built from brick and tile, sat scattered in the rough shape of a plum blossom. A ring of tall cedars stood around them, and each pine tree had dozens of red ribbons tied around its upper half. The mountain wind shook loose the snow and set the ribbons snapping and twisting, vivid against the black-and-white silence of the mountains.
Mountain nights were brutal. Wind-driven, bone-deep cold. A tent offered nothing against it. Decades ago, a group of wealthy merchants had pooled their resources and hired hundreds of craftsmen to build these shelters along the southern slope of the snow mountain, so that herb gatherers and hunters could go farther and stay longer. The local people maintained them each year.
This first camp sat exactly half a day's walk from the inn.
The group spread out and chose their houses.
Jin Baohui had the largest party and took the largest house. Lantian Yu went with him.
Zhou Zhiqin had only Dongfang Xiao. They took the smallest.
The remaining nine people divided cleanly into groups of three and claimed what was left without argument.
Mu Qingyan had chosen the house farthest from the others, though not by accident.
Cai Zhao watched Mu Qingyan and Qian Xueshen unload firewood and meat from the sled, and without thinking she rolled up her sleeves and moved to help. Mu Qingyan pushed her aside. She frowned and dropped her voice. "We are going up this mountain together. When there is work to be done, I do my share. Don't coddle me."
Mu Qingyan said flatly, "Coddle you? Look at yourself. We have been walking through knee-deep snow for half a day, one foot sinking and the next catching air. Half the men out there are hollowed out, and Fatty Jin nearly died three separate times. You are not flushed, not winded, not even tired. You are practically bouncing. Now you want to haul heavy supplies?" He looked at her steadily. "Tell me again which delicate, weaponless young lady I am speaking to."
Cai Zhao felt the heat rise in her face. She had forgotten. Again.
Mu Qingyan waited.
She held out for a moment, then gave in.
She let her shoulders drop and arranged her face into something soft and slightly vacant. "Brother," she said faintly, "I feel a little dizzy." The humiliation of it stung.
Mu Qingyan guided her inside with great tenderness. "Of course you do, poor thing. The air is thin at this altitude. You must not push yourself. Rest now."
He left Qian Xueshen outside, alone, to haul every remaining bag and bundle.
The hunting house had sat empty through a full winter. It was cold and wet inside, walls sweating with trapped chill. Mu Qingyan assigned Cai Zhao to tie back her sleeves and set her to work alongside him. He bundled straw into a rough broom and swept the floor. He lit a splinter of wood as a torch and walked the perimeter, driving the ice crystals from every corner.
Cai Zhao worked beside him without complaint. But her two arms were no match for his height, his reach, his precision and speed. She paused and said sincerely, "I have to thank your father for teaching you this well."
Mu Qingyan glanced up. "I have to thank your aunt."
When Qian Xueshen finally dragged the last pile of baggage through the door, the house was already clean and warm. A fire was burning steadily in the center. His sullen mood dissolved on the spot. He had suffered more than either of them, and neither of them would ever admit it, but when it mattered, Mu and Cai were worth ten of the posturing martial artists outside.
After dark, the three of them sat around the fire together. They threaded strips of jerky onto sticks and held them over the flames. A copper pot sat in the coals, melting snow into boiling water. They softened their dry rations in the pot and ate in comfortable quiet.
Qian Xueshen broke the silence first. "Who do you think killed the innkeeper?"
"You worry about everything," Cai Zhao said, settling back against the straw pile.
"My heavenly empress, I was in that kitchen improvising a meal!" Qian Xueshen's voice pitched up with indignation. "If I hadn't been there making do, the blame for that murder would have landed directly on the cook and the innkeeper's wife. The killer is still walking around outside with the rest of us. I cannot sleep knowing that. Of course I care!"
"Settle down. I will keep you safe until we find the Snowlin Dragon Beast." Cai Zhao chewed the inside of her lip. "What caught my attention was what the serving man and the cook said."
Qian Xueshen blinked. "The serving man? The cook? What about them?"
Mu Qingyan spoke without looking up. "The serving man said the innkeeper fell asleep after Fatty Jin's group arrived. The cook said that Fatty Jin's group was larger than the innkeeper had warned him to expect, so he had not prepared enough dry rations and needed to start early."
"So you were listening too." Cai Zhao raised her eyes. "The way I heard it, the innkeeper was told the night before that a group was heading up the mountain and asked the cook to prepare supplies. When Fatty Jin's group arrived and they were all together at once, the innkeeper went to sleep."
Qian Xueshen tilted his head slowly. "So someone sent word ahead to the innkeeper. Before Fatty Jin's group even got there."
"Look at Fatty Jin," Cai Zhao said. "A man of his size and habits does not suffer through a frozen mountain pass for no reason. Whatever is on that snow mountain, it matters to him. Rare medicinal herbs, precious furs, they can all be bought. His kind of money makes that easy. So what brings him here himself? Something is wrong with this picture."
Qian Xueshen burst out, "There is a priceless treasure hidden on Mount Mofei!"
Cai Zhao picked up a stick and threw it at him. "Idiot. I just said money is not the issue."
Qian Xueshen blocked his head with one arm. "Then it is a martial arts secret!"
She threw another stick. "After Beichen's founding ancestor, the only supreme martial arts in this world belong to either Beichen or the Demon Cult. What great secret is going to turn up on some random mountain?"
Qian Xueshen retreated without further argument.
Cai Zhao turned to Mu Qingyan. "You have not said anything."
Mu Qingyan's expression was unhurried. "Before guessing why anyone came up the mountain, should we first count how many people are actually here? We do not need to know everyone's purpose. We only need to make sure none of them turns that purpose against us. They outnumber us and they are strong. Even the concubine Qinong has real skill. Our side counts two, and a half."
Qian Xueshen's voice went small. "Is that half me..."
"Don't push it." Cai Zhao turned back to Mu Qingyan. "I was thinking the same thing. Start here: we were definitely not in the innkeeper's count. Uncle Zhou was almost certainly an accident. His son's burial place is on this mountain, and no one could have predicted the timing. He skipped the Beichen ceremony for it. The others are a different matter. Fatty Jin was certainly expected. He met the innkeeper, and every Taoist in the place came out to receive him. Lantian Yu..."
"Also expected, I think." Qian Xueshen cut in. "I saw him go into the same house as Fatty Jin's group tonight. They know each other. And Siqi belongs to Beichen. Decent people from famous sects do not make casual friends with strangers."
Cai Zhao shook her head. "That is not quite right. Outside the Demon Cult, which is a true enemy, Beichen has never been afraid to associate with people from gray corners of the martial world. My great-uncle Cai Changfeng nearly kowtowed to a fraudulent medicine peddler in his youth and came close to being talked into it."
She continued, "Besides, Lantian Yu and Fatty Jin were in the same house tonight. That might only mean they walked the same road for a day and got acquainted. No proof they knew each other before. As for the others, we do not even know most of their names. They could be lying about why they came."
Mu Qingyan looked up at the ceiling beams. "Yes. The one I cannot read at all is that silent master and his two servants."
Cai Zhao nodded slowly. "And the girl Qinong's master. We do not know him either."
"I do," Mu Qingyan said.
Cai Zhao looked at him. "What?"
The firelight fell across half his face, sharp and clear on one side, swallowed by shadow on the other. "His surname is Hu. His name is Hu Tianwei. He was the eldest disciple of Duan Jiuxiu, who held the position of Tianji Elder in the cult. Nie Hengcheng's eldest disciple was named Zhao Tianba. Duan Jiuxiu named his own eldest disciple Hu Tianwei as a deliberate contrast."
Cai Zhao was quiet for a moment. "If he was Duan Jiuxiu's first disciple, how did you ever meet someone that senior?"
Mu Qingyan glanced toward Qian Xueshen.
Qian Xueshen caught that look and felt it like a hand closing around his throat. He scrambled upright and announced that he would be very useful outside.
Cai Zhao waited until the door closed behind him, then asked quietly, "Does this involve your father?" She had noticed that Mu Qingyan did not like his father mentioned in front of others.
"After Nie Hengcheng died, the cult fractured for years," Mu Qingyan said. "Zhao Tianba and Mou Yisu ran wild, causing destruction everywhere. Then at the Battle of Qingluo River, both of them were crippled. After that, Nie Zhe took the survivors of the Tiangang Disha Camp and declared himself acting leader. The remaining two of the Seven Star Elders had grievances, but my father's injuries had eased enough by then and he was released..."
"Your father was hurt?" Cai Zhao's voice sharpened.
Mu Qingyan looked at her steadily.
She understood slowly. "Your father died from those injuries. I thought it was illness."
Mu Qingyan's long lashes lowered. "He was fine until the year I was born. He was ambushed and gravely wounded without warning. Most people thought that a man who had endured so much and finally reached a period of peace would recover. Instead he went into hiding to convalesce. During those years he developed a method to stabilize and nourish his injury. It kept him alive for more than a decade, but it could not cure him. He died four years ago."
Cai Zhao breathed through the silence. "Who hurt your father?"
"He never told me. But that person is already dead. My guess is someone inside the cult. Shortly before I was born, the Tianquan Elder, Qiu Baigang, died."
"Who was he?"
"The oldest of the Seven Star Elders. Only ten years younger than my great-grandfather. He led the faction within the cult that had always been loyal to the Mu family."
Mu Qingyan stirred the fire slowly. His face was calm in a way that had nothing peaceful about it. "Elder Qiu's death was never explained. Everyone suspected Nie Hengcheng, but there was no proof. My guess is that Nie Hengcheng saw a vengeful elder and a father who might retaliate, and decided to move first."
He continued, "After Elder Qiu, my father was badly wounded and disappeared. The cult founded by the Mu family looked set to take the name Nie. And then Nie Hengcheng was killed at Tushan by your aunt, after barely a year of his ambitions bearing fruit. All that seized power, gone in an instant. Whatever he saw coming for him in the end, it must have made him smile."
Cai Zhao shifted. "How many years was your father in hiding?"
"Five years."
Something settled into place for her. "Who raised you before you were five?"
Mu Qingyan watched her without speaking.
"Your mother?" she pressed.
The corner of his mouth curved, not in warmth.
Cai Zhao's breath caught. Her chest tightened with the urge to reach toward him, to say something, but no words came. Mu Qingyan's eyes moved to her face, soft with something unguarded, and he lifted his hand slowly. His palm was almost to her cheek when she pulled herself back and said quickly, "You were telling me about Hu Tianwei."
Mu Qingyan lowered his hand and let the moment pass cleanly. "When I was six or seven, Hu Tianwei came to my father one night. Nie Zhe had proven useless, and Hu Tianwei came to ask my father to return to the cult. He offered the support of Duan Jiuxiu's remaining people."
"Someone like your father would have refused," Cai Zhao said, thinking aloud. "But is there even anything left of Duan Jiuxiu's faction? My aunt supposedly cleared out every last one of the dangerous ones."
"Your aunt's name carries more weight inside the cult than it does in all six of the Beichen sects combined," Mu Qingyan said.
"That I can believe completely. The grandmaster before Yin Dai could not stand anyone outshining him. No matter what my aunt accomplished, he buried it. And the cult has suffered enough at her hands to remember her for generations."
Mu Qingyan smiled. "Even now, old members of the cult say her name like they are describing a killing star falling from heaven. Especially after she destroyed Qingfeng Temple. She was furious that day, and she hunted Duan Jiuxiu's line without stopping. His Seven Disciples, later known as the Eight Vajras, were killed one by one. Everyone else connected to Duan Jiuxiu's lineage lost their heads before long." He paused. "Only Hu Tianwei survived, because he practiced the art of the turtle very well. He hid deep in the cold mountains and endured, barely alive, until she stopped looking."
After a beat, he added, "So you see. There was nothing left of Duan Jiuxiu's power. Hu Tianwei came to my father with empty hands."
Cai Zhao's gaze dropped. Her fingers moved toward her belt. Mu Qingyan noticed.
"What are you thinking," he said.
She looked up. "My aunt's fish that slipped the net has lived too many extra years. Someone should close the account."
"Not yet." He stopped her. "Get the Snowlin Dragon Beast's blood first. Your father's life is the priority, and we cannot afford complications. Hu Tianwei will still be killable when the time comes. You are currently a frail, harmless young woman."
"...Fine." She let her hands fall away from her belt.
The fire leaped. Something new crossed her face.
"Wait," she said.
She sat up straighter. "Even if I keep hiding from Uncle Zhou the whole way up, when I married Brother Yuqi, Uncle Zhou was there. He has seen my face. He will recognize me the moment he looks at me properly."
Mu Qingyan regarded her with gentle blankness. "Is that so. Zhao Zhao is so clever, I never would have thought of that myself."
Cai Zhao pressed both palms to her legs in despair. "I should have asked Qian Xueshen to disguise me before we left. This is a disaster."
She turned the problem over once, then twice, and let it go. "Then I will handle it differently. I will come clean with Uncle Zhou first thing tomorrow morning."
"Better not." Mu Qingyan spread his palm toward the fire, his expression quiet and considered. "Duan Jiuxiu's line is broken but not gone. Hu Tianwei was once a figure of real standing in the cult. His two servants are unfamiliar, and I cannot place their backgrounds. If your identity is exposed before we reach the peak, you would need to kill all three of them before anyone comes down the mountain. If even one of them makes contact with their remaining cult brothers afterward, your father is in danger."
He looked at her. "Keep the disguise. The situation is still unclear. The less we are known, the safer we are."
Cai Zhao settled. Her shoulders dropped. She nodded.
Mu Qingyan watched her lips press together in a faint, resigned bite, and his expression softened in a way he did not seem to notice. He raised his right hand and flicked it toward the door. The crack of the frame shifted slightly.
"Daqiang," he said pleasantly. "Come inside."
Qian Xueshen stumbled through the door, his hair and eyebrows completely white with frost. He looked like a miniature old man. Cai Zhao laughed out loud before she could stop herself. Qian Xueshen dusted himself off with what dignity he had left. "The walls are brick. The door is solid wood. I heard absolutely nothing."
"I know," Mu Qingyan said. "I saw you through the gap when I was clearing the corners earlier."
Cai Zhao squinted at the bulge in Qian Xueshen's sleeve. "What is that?"
"I caught it while I was relieving myself in the trees." He pulled out his sleeve and produced a large gray rabbit, legs still twitching weakly. "I did not eat enough tonight. I am going to roast it."
Cai Zhao's eyes lit up. "I wrapped some salt and spices from the inn kitchen and tucked them in my bag before we left. I am terrible at cooking though. Can you do a roast rabbit?" She had been close to tears eating dry rations all evening. She was a creature of habit and habit required good food.
Qian Xueshen's eyebrows danced with confidence. "I won't even brag, just watch me. Xiao Cai, you are going to..." He stopped. "What are you doing."
While both of them were deep in this conversation, Mu Qingyan moved with swift certainty, reaching across and lifting the rabbit cleanly from Qian Xueshen's grip. His voice dropped. "I have not been able to place that master and his servants and it is bothering me."
Qian Xueshen stared at the rabbit in Mu Qingyan's hands with more grief than he had shown for anything else all day. "Then think about it, why do you need my rabbit for that?"
"Brother, calm down, breathe," Cai Zhao said quickly. "Nobody is being impulsive. We can discuss this. Please put the rabbit down first. Hello. Hello!"
Mu Qingyan was already through the door, coat-hem swinging behind him. Cai Zhao and Qian Xueshen scrambled after him.
Mu Qingyan's method of getting answers was simple and direct. He crossed to the house where the master and his servants were staying and knocked until the wood rattled.
The mountains were dead silent at this hour. Each knock rang out like a strike on a bell.
Lights moved inside houses. Faces appeared in doorways. Jin Baohui peered out from behind a guard, eyes bright with curiosity.
The master's door opened slowly. The three of them stood in the frame, expressions unreadable.
Zhou Zhiqin stepped out from his own doorway, his frown sharp. "We are all exhausted from today. What is Mr. Yan doing making this kind of noise?"
Mu Qingyan's voice was easy and carrying. "The moon and stars are exceptional tonight. I am in the mood for a few exchanges. These three brothers looked like they might oblige."
On the last words, the master's face broke open in shock. His eyes went wide. He turned to run. Mu Qingyan moved before the turn was complete, one palm cutting through the air in a clean arc. The two servants lunged to block him, one with a knife and one with a sword. Their technique was sharp and practiced.
Mu Qingyan turned sideways, weaving in with one palm. The three of them exchanged seven or eight moves in seconds. On the ninth, he found an opening, pressed two pressure points in sequence, and put both servants on the ground. He was already chasing the master before they finished falling.
The two of them moved through a pair of rooms, trading blows in close quarters.
Everyone watching could see that Mu Qingyan was holding back, keeping one hand still, working only to force the master into showing real technique. Zhou Zhiqin started forward to intervene. Dongfang Xiao stopped him with a hand on the arm. Zhou Zhiqin watched a few more moves, then stood still.
Thirty exchanges. The master's face had gone red, then dark red. His breath came ragged with fury. "I have been patient enough! You will not keep pushing me!" He stopped holding back and threw his full force into a palm strike with his right hand.
Mu Qingyan watched the trajectory, measured the angle, and tossed the large gray rabbit from his left hand directly into the strike's path.
The palm connected solidly with the rabbit.
The rabbit hit the ground. Its legs kicked through a count of painful spasms. Then it was still.
The snow-mountain sky was brilliant that night, stars and moon burning clear and cold overhead. The rabbit's body lay in the white light, and on its fur was pressed a clean palm print, pale green-tinged, distinct as a brand. It sat on the dead body like a viper's eye.
A faint phosphorescence clung to the corpse. Cai Zhao felt the roots of her hair prickle.
Zhou Zhiqin's voice came out strangled. "That mark. That is..."
"The Five Poison Palm," Mu Qingyan said.
The silver snowlight lay over his robes. His eyes were level and without question.
"Your name is Chen Fuguang. You are Chen Shu's younger brother."