The wind and snow still howled as the three halted on the slope outside the Ice Mirror Maze's exit. Chen Wuya wiped icy grit from his face, his gaze fixed on the gesture of a guard at the camp's edge—an open palm closing into a fist, as though crushing something.
Mo Feng lowered his voice. "That's the Demonic Cult's secret signal for the Soul-Severing Hand. Only expendable outer-ring operatives would know it."
Bai Zhi supported her lower abdomen as the protective talisman over her pregnancy flickered faintly. She said nothing, but her eyes had changed. That tide-like feeling from before had receded, yet she knew the danger had not gone with it.
Chen Wuya drew a deep breath, Misaligned Force slowly circulating through his body. His ribs felt tight and uncomfortable, as if something were lodged against them, but he did not stop. They could not retreat now.
"Move," he said. "They've already made their move."
The instant his words fell, the firelight in the camp flared violently. A furious roar tore through the blizzard: "Hand over the royal seal! The false king must die!" It was followed by the clash of weapons, chaotic footsteps, and people shouting slogans in the language of the Snow Demons.
The three hurried closer. At the raised platform in the center of the camp, an armored commander was brandishing a bloodstained saber. Half the soldiers around him knelt in response, while the other side gripped their weapons and stood in confrontation. Several elderly priests stood beside the fire altar, their faces ashen.
"That's Gulan, commander of the young lord's personal guard," Mo Feng said quietly. "He's a trusted royal retainer. Unless someone controlled him, he would never lead a rebellion."
Chen Wuya did not answer. He reached into his robes and took out the