Her gaze flicked to Mei Ling and Lin Yue, a flicker of something unreadable in those pale blue eyes—disdain, perhaps, or calculation. Liu Wei tried to slink away in the exodus, but Feng's voice cracked like a whip: "You as well, 'disciple.' We have matters to discuss."
The former guard froze, sweat beading on his forehead, but he had no choice.
We followed her through a side door into a private chamber adjoining the pavilion—a sealed room warded with shimmering arrays that hummed with suppressive qi, ensuring no sound or scrying could penetrate.
The space was austere: a low table, cushions on the floor, and walls etched with ancient runes glowing faintly.
Only four of us entered: me, Mei Ling, Lin Yue, and Feng. Liu Wei was dragged in last, the door sealing behind him with a resonant thud, making it five—but not for long.
