The night air was heavy with mist as Joaquin approached the ancient arch of the Dragon Gate.Perched at the edge of the northern cliffs, the structure stood half-swallowed by vines and time—a forgotten place that once marked the border between warrior clans before peace had been brokered by the Tiger Council.Now, its silence thrummed with tension—as if the earth itself remembered the bloodshed.Joaquin wore no armor. Only the jade amulet around his neck and a simple dark cloak. His steps were soundless, his aura coiled and subdued, ready.He was alone, at least in appearance.Behind him, hidden in the shadows along the ridge, Rick crouched with two of Miguel Suarez’s most trusted scouts. They weren’t