The night had yet to fade, and the earthen walls of the southern slums glimmered gray-white in the dim light. Chen Wuya leaned against the corner of a ruined courtyard with half its roof collapsed, his bamboo hat pulled low, its brim shadowing his eyes. He did not move. One hand held a hard, dry flatbread, while his fingertips silently rubbed a seam inside his sleeve—where a scrap torn from a Diancang Sect elder's cloak was hidden.
Bai Zhi crouched at the edge of the roof ridge with her back to him, her gaze sweeping the alley entrance. She said nothing, merely lifted a hand slightly to signal that someone was coming.
The footsteps were light, keeping close to the wall as though afraid of waking those asleep. A man in black stopped outside the courtyard gate, glanced to either side, then pushed open the crooked wooden door. He was lean, his shoulders slightly hunched as he walked, and a strip of dark-gold patterned fabric showed at his cuff.
"Were you the one who sent the message?" the man in black asked in a low, dry voice.
Chen Wuya slowly raised his head. The instant his face emerged, the corner of his mouth curled into a faint smile. "What do you think? A useless Jianghu nobody, driven into a dead end, can only look for a way to survive."
The man studied him through narrowed eyes for a moment. He did not enter, remaining in the doorway. "Do you know what you're doing? The Heavenly Machine Scroll isn't something you can touch."
"I know it's worth money." Chen Wuya took a bite of the flatbread and chewed slowly. "I also know I'm a target for everyone now. The Jianghu wants to seize it, the court wants to investigate it. If