The bell still echoed in their ears as the bluish-white column of smoke rose higher. Chen Wuya's hand remained pressed to his chest. The tattoo's heat had not faded; instead, it flared in waves with the rising smoke. He looked up at the signal shooting straight into the night sky and suddenly frowned.
"This smoke isn't right."
Bai Zhi halted, stopping half a step behind his left side. She said nothing, but her hand had already settled on her sword hilt. Mo Feng immediately took the mechanism pack off his shoulder, crouching down to rummage for the charcoal pencil and animal-hide scroll he used for records.
Hurried footsteps came from the passage entrance. Two young men in moon-white robes leaped down from the ventilation shaft. The short swords at their waists remained sheathed, yet their steps were steady and swift. The older one clasped his fists as soon as he landed, lowering his voice. "The Sect Leader has ordered it: the Blood Moon is approaching, and the nine sects will convene. The three of you are requested to proceed to the council hall at once."
Chen Wuya did not move. His gaze remained fixed on the smoke column. The entwined blue and white smoke began to warp before his eyes, as though some force were tugging it out of shape. He closed his eyes, activated his misaligned-frequency perception, and followed the tattoo's hot current into the smoke.
This was no ordinary summons.
There was code hidden in the smoke. Blue meant "urgent," white meant "assemble," and the two colors running side by side was the secret signal for "all nine sects gather." But he sensed another layer of fluctuation—exceedingly faint ripples of energy hidden in the gaps between the smoke's currents. It meant someone had tampered with the signal and