Yan Wushuang walked forward slowly and cupped his fists. "The Valley Master will arrive tomorrow."
"He brought twenty Death Warriors. They set out from Chiyan Valley and took a longer route to avoid Xiao Jin's mounted patrols, so the journey has been slower than expected."
Luo Qingyi stepped closer too, her voice cool. "My master will arrive tonight."
"She chose not to take the main road, so I can't say exactly when."
Wang Yuan nodded slightly and asked no more.
He went to a flat boulder at the center of the platform, brushed the dead leaves from its surface, set down his bundle, and sat.
Liu Canglan and the black-clad Death Warrior found a spot sheltered from the wind near the platform's southern entrance. They rested their horses and shared some rations.
Dusk deepened, and the mountain wind grew colder.
Yan Wushuang returned to his tent and stirred the campfire. Firelight flickered across his face.
Luo Qingyi sat down again before the tent beneath the cliff, her eyes lowered, lost in thought.
Each of the three parties held its own corner, keeping to its own waters. Yet a subtle tension filled the air, like a bowstring drawn taut but not released.
Wang Yuan sat on the boulder and closed his eyes to regulate his breathing.
In his dantian, the twin cores of Force Power from the Sixth Layer of Nine Heavens Mountain turned slowly, melding with the circulation of Vital Blood through his five organs, solid and steady as a mountain.
His face was calm and his breathing long and even, as though he cared nothing for tomorrow's meeting.
Night enveloped Broken Cloud Ridge completely.
Wind poured between the cliffs with a low howl.
The last trace of twilight on the distant horizon went out. Only the stars overhead and