Eve of Departure, Another Mysterious Challenge

Bai Zhi switched her flexible sword to her left hand, and Chen Wuya knew she had sensed it too.

He did not turn around. He merely withdrew his gaze from the distant palace gates and let it settle on the patch of open ground at the edge of the training field. The stone tiles of the sparring platform had been bleached white by the sun, with several cracks along the edges like scars left behind by matches in years past. The wind swept grains of sand across the ground, producing a faint scraping sound.

"Someone's here," Bai Zhi said, her voice very low.

"Mm." He answered softly and took two steps forward. He was not moving fast, yet every step fell into the gaps between his breaths. His coarse cloth tunic clung to his body, while the blue sash at his waist swayed lightly in the wind. He knew that some things could not be avoided, especially when the other party came knocking of their own accord.

That man was already standing atop the sparring platform.

A grayish-brown fur cloak enveloped his body, and half his face was covered by a leather mask, revealing only his eyes. His irises carried a golden tint, his gaze calm yet neither hostile nor respectful. He simply stood there, gripping a long staff with a hooked head. The tip had been polished bright, as if from being held year-round.

The guards had not stopped him. It was not that they had not wanted to; the moment he appeared, those around him had inexplicably made way. His steps were utterly steady and made no sound upon landing, as though an invisible understanding existed between the soles of his feet and the sandy ground.

"You're Chen Wuya?" the man asked, his voice hoarse and low, like