A mark that neat had not been left by someone acting in haste. It had been written for the eyes of the public. Rong Tian picked up the copper coin he had found near the altar. The black stain along its edge was faint, but when he scraped it with the bone needle, a trace of fine oil clung to the tip. The oil had not come from the temple. Its scent was buried beneath the medicine, but its base resembled the protective metal oil he had smelled from the two shadows below the hill the previous night. Rong Tian stored all the evidence inside a small tube. His hands remained steady and slow, although the line of his jaw hardened. He stood, rolled up the old bamboo mat on the floor, and pressed two points on the wooden planks beneath it. One board lifted slightly without the sound of a nail shifting. In the narrow space beneath the floor lay a long black chest without carvings. There was

The Dark Shadow Sect disciple standing closest to An Ying gave them a sharp look, but a small gesture from An Ying was enough to silence him again. “At least shadows know when to keep quiet,” An Ying said. “Fire that takes too much pride in its heat often forgets that its smoke can be seen from far away.” Yan Mo grinned. “Tonight isn’t a night for hiding.” “Tonight is precisely the night to make sure someone else is seen,” An Ying replied. Rong Tian watched from behind the roots. The two men did not trust each other, but whatever promise had brought them here was significant enough to make both of them keep the blades hidden inside their sleeves. A Hellfire Sect disciple kicked a small stone along the path. “The city is still making a fuss about that ruined temple. Funny how a few dead beggars can make an entire market forget to eat its porr

Rong Tian moved between tree trunks damp with mist, leaving the commotion at the outer post behind him. The black flame he had disrupted still flickered between the trees, while the voices of guards blaming one another drifted faintly through the forest like drunken insects lost beneath the leaves.A warning bell rang from the direction of the outer post, broken off halfway through before its sound could reach the inner layers. Rong Tian did not look back because that small disturbance was exactly what he had left behind as a screen, preventing his trail from being read too directly.The next layer was guarded not by flames, but by shadows. The mist ahead was not especially thick, yet whenever the moon disappeared behind the branches, the shadows cast by the trees moved across the ground more slowly than they should have.Rong Tian stopped beside a black stone half-buried in the earth. It had been arranged like a grave marker, but its surface was too clean of moss, while the dew on th

Rong Tian did not need them to believe the truth. He only needed them to doubt their own allies, because an enemy looking sideways would always be slower to notice the blade coming from the front. The next layer opened into three paths separated by low black stones. The left path led toward An Ying’s dark tent, the right toward Yan Mo’s dark-red flames, while the middle path descended into a stone chamber surrounded by mist lanterns. Rong Tian stopped behind a half-dead tree trunk. On a low stone table along the middle path, a small jade token had been placed by itself. Its surface was damp with dew, but the prince’s emblem within it remained clear enough to recognize. The deepest part of Purple Mist Forest did not open into a clearing. Instead, it resembled a chamber secretly carved between black rocks and the roots of ancient trees. Mist hung low around a round stone table, breaki

The mist around the stone table did not move freely. It revolved according to the four lanterns hanging low from dry branches, while small talismans beneath the chairs restrained every current of breath so that no stranger could enter without causing the shadow bells to ring. The meeting place was more than an empty patch of ground disguised by the forest. Beneath the old roots, thin threads of qi stretched like spider veins, black ash had been scattered into the gaps between stones to detect changes in the air, and the mist lanterns at the four corners had been arranged so that every unfamiliar breath would leave a tremor in their light. Dark Shadow Sect disciples had once boasted that this formation could detect the steps of a mist weasel before the animal reached the first root. Hellfire Sect disciples had also mocked that an ordinary city resident would burn within two breaths if he dared touch the outer boundary without a token of permi