The firelight in the council hall still flickered as Chen Wuya withdrew his fingers from the edge of the silver crown. He tucked that grayish-white token back into his sleeve, the fabric brushing against his skin with a faint rustle.
The old man sat opposite him with his eyes closed, as though waiting for someone to arrive.
More and more footsteps sounded outside—some light, some heavy—mingled with hushed whispers. The representatives of the various tribes were about to arrive.
Chen Wuya did not look at the silver crown again. He knew his place was not here. His hand found the dragon-shaped jade pendant at his waist, a cool piece pressed against his flesh. The Mystic Ice Lotus was inside, still unfused. Bai Zhi's injuries could not wait.
He rose to his feet.
His knees gave way, and his whole body swayed. He braced himself against the armrest and waited for the darkness clouding his vision to pass. His breathing was heavy, his chest weighed down as if a stone lay upon it. After half a quarter-hour of regulating his breath, he had gathered only a thread of warmth in his dantian, and it had dispersed again in an instant.
[Host's remaining vital energy: 18%. Long-distance travel is not recommended.]
He ignored it.
He turned and headed for the door.
The old man opened his eyes and watched his back. His lips moved, but in the end, he said only one thing. "The wind and snow have ceased. The road is passable."
Chen Wuya nodded without stopping.
The bronze lamps in the passage were still lit, their flames reflecting off the ice walls and making his eyes swim. He walked slowly, every step firm. The frozen earth felt hard beneath his feet, while his calves trembled without pause.
No