Meng Zhang settled right next to Su Ying. She slid closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. Without a clearer picture, Mo Lin would have assumed they were a loving couple. That was not the case. Like him, they were mere political pawns in a bid to let the coiling clans last a bit longer.
"Your maturity this evening astounds me," Meng Zhang chuckled, his weight pressing the smooth rock seat into the ground. "Horse-tail whisks have a certain effectiveness."
Not wanting Mo Lin to gain the wrong impression, Meng Zhang rolled the hem of his robes all the way to his shoulders. Under the warm orange hue of the crackling flames, raw gashes split open by a spiked leather whip snaked all the way to his shoulders. The spikes had printed a distinct snake-skin pattern into the meat.
"It seems Brother Meng has similarly been enlightened by the rod," Mo Lin said with a touch of guilt coating the edge of his tone.
Meng Zhang's wounds were too fresh to be a result of actual punishment. Few with pride such as his would wear wounds as a show of status. How much of it was authentic remained a secret to the Heavens.
Mo Lin had the faintest suspicion that Meng Zhang knew of his own rigid discipline in the Mo Clan courtyard. The brand along his arm was likely a mere mimic meant to lower his guard. To be frank, it worked. Aside from pointless speculation, he had no way of verifying the authenticity of the pain.
"Brother Yen is absent. To be frank, I was expecting him to lead your side of the operation, Sister Ying?" Mo Lin finally asked the question that had eluded him when she pressed her body close to his earlier.
"He had the urge to pay respects to the ancestors in the ancestral hall," Su Ying tossed him an answer with an ease that made him uncomfortable.
She did not try to obfuscate it with various true lies. Her words were simple, yet they communicated a message that made his heart grow cold. Perhaps for old times' sake, but the dual heirs of the Su Clan no longer held equal standing. Su Ying was favored. That meant Meng Zhang was favored.
Elder Lui Shenghui's words came to mind.
This was the only confirmation he would truly gain regarding the growing ties between the Su and Meng clans, at least until the engagement was made public. That was, if they remained alive until then.
And most importantly, where was Lui Gang tonight?
The question did not linger for long.
Before the conversation warmed between them, the scouts ushered a new entrant to their circle. Lui Gang sauntered to the last remaining rock arced around the open flame. He wore a dazzling blue robe meant to soothe and smooth the treacherous air that stuck to everything around them.
"Seems I am the last to arrive," Lui Gang said while taking the seat on Mo Lin's left.
Despite the attempts at cradling a final sense of normalcy between them, the tension rose a notch higher. Mo Lin had prepared four stones as seats. He knew they would come, and they did too.
"I take it you have found a way to pry the clam?" Mo Lin posed the question to Lui Gang while glancing at Su Ying, hoping to catch a rose-tinted blemish along her cheeks.
"That is what I came to offer," Lui Gang said. He was not one to waste time.
He reached into his robe and pulled out a white box with golden salamander claws hinging it shut. Mo Lin's gaze narrowed, recalling the contents of such a box from the previous night. The one in Lui Gang's hand was the last scroll his clan had. The other had been turned to fuel to fan the approaching flames.
Flicking his thumb along the clasps, a deadly aura erupted from the scroll. During the clan meeting, Mo Lin had not felt the dread the scrolls sank into the atmosphere. It seemed the collective pulse of near-godlike figures present then had filtered its strength. Now, it had no restrictions. It licked his wounds like a dragon wetting a rat caught between its teeth. He tensed, his hand sliding to his side.
Meng Zhang held Su Ying tighter, and his qi brightened underneath his bronzed skin. Su Ying was not delicate like a flower. Three needles made an appearance within her fingers in that instant.
"Relax. This is our way in. Our artificer, while not an expert in matters of immortals, concluded these scrolls were a key," Lui Gang said.
To ensure they understood, Lui Gang removed the scroll from its box and slid his fingers along its leathery surface. True to his words, there were tiny grooves etched into the scroll, only visible when they strained their eyes to the utmost. Even then, Lui Gang needed to tilt the scroll at an acute angle toward the open flame.
"These here are the grooves. They should fit into something, most likely a floorboard or something like that," Lui Gang said. His fingers trailed to the edge of the scroll where elastic silver banded the edges to ensure the scroll remained straight. "And here, he needed to use a magnifying glass to see the tiny clasps made from an unrecognizable metal along the edges."
"And if it is mere speculation?" Su Ying, now relaxed, asked the pointed question that flooded everyone's mind.
"We don't have any better leads, do we?" Lui Gang challenged.
"My strike team is already in position about now. I will have them look for these grooves," Mo Lin saw no value in arguing the veracity of the statements when they had the Shrine in front of them. "They find the grooves or hidden compartments, and we are a step closer. It fails, and we wait."
"How long have you known this?" Meng Zhang ignored Mo Lin's assertion and strangled the fragile atmosphere that kept things civil.
The man's instinct to ram through any weakness proved useful in this moment. While Mo Lin hid his satisfaction that someone had posed the question under a simple smirk, he pulled his ears closer to the sounds of Lui Gang's breathing.
It was subtle, but nothing his enhanced hearing could not pick up. Lui Gang had not been through the "mind over body" mantra yet, and it showed.
"This morning, about two," Lui Gang said, putting the scroll back into the box and sliding it back into the sleeve of his robe.
"Convenient," Su Ying offered her gold coin, snapping away from Meng Zhang's grasp.
"Ghost, pass on the message. Look for grooves or hidden compartments. No force until the situation deems it necessary," Mo Lin said. "Besides, we need a warm drink before it begins. Bear, bring the tea."
Mo Lin sent the command into the open, yet none of the heirs had a chance to see who the "Ghost" he referred to was. Not a single movement from the guards or scouts present betrayed the position.
Their gazes briefly scanned the surroundings, but disappointment forced them to retrace their gaze to the flame providing a home beneath the stars and the deadly Shrine.
Bear came from one of the tents, carrying a kettle and a pail of water in a metal bucket. Kneeling beside the flame, he gathered a few iron rods and pierced them into either side of the fire. Then he hung the kettle and poured the water in front of the heirs.
Everything was done in the open to ensure total transparency and assure everyone present that foul play was not involved. It was a lesson learned through repeated history.
Bear was the weakest among them, incapable of playing sleight of hand in front of their collective strength. This brought a sense of controlled safety.
Within minutes, the kettle boiled. Bear offered each heir a glass, but they promptly refused and pulled out cups hanging from their waistbands. Carrying a cup and tea leaves on your person had become tradition ages ago when an Emperor was treated to poison not through his drink, but through his cup.
Bear started first, pouring a cup of tea for himself and gulping it down in a single moment. His eyes reddened from the heat, but he kept still. Only after a minute passed and he remained fine did he begin pouring water for the rest. First he started with Mo Lin, then he went down the line based on who arrived first until he circled back to Lui Gang.
Each heir tossed their own home-made blend of tea into the cups. It was tea that behaved more like a general antidote than a true beverage. One never knew who had their head in mind.
"Might I offer a toast to greatness?" Mo Lin raised his tea cup and circled his wrist before tipping the cup toward Meng Zhang.
"Greatness. I love the sound of that," Meng Zhang chuckled, momentarily forgetting he had nearly stripped the pretense of civility.
"Greatness hardly matters. But I will oblige," Su Ying raised her ornamental tea cup as well.
Mo Lin noticed her attention wane, almost as if she had deciphered something and was unwilling to share. Most likely, she had set a trap, hoping to reel one of them in. Asking her for her insight could prove useful, but what if it were simple?
"Greatness," Lui Gang repeated without much thought. He looked relieved more than anything.
It was not shown explicitly, but the way he ironed out the wrinkles in his palm hinted at it. They all drank their respective tea and waited for news.
About twenty minutes later, movement came from the scouts holding the camp perimeter. Information had arrived.
They knew it before a thin scout came rushing through the guards, excitement haunting him like a ghost.
A disciplinary measure was needed.
Quickly, the scout knelt. Mo Lin saw a pair of brown eyes under the flame. The man was not a Mo.
A spy? From Where? Amongst his ranks?
He did not let the discovery pull him away from the moment.
Instead, he snapped a mental shot of the man's eyes and the layers of skin and textures mapped across his eyelids. Even under the thick shawl that covered most of his face, Mo Lin would find him regardless.
"The grooves. They have been found," the scout said.
"It seems it is time. I apologize. It seems I have the advantage," Mo Lin said.