The night wind swept over the barren slope. Chen Wuya crouched on the earthen ledge before the thatched hut, rolling a charred scrap of cloth between his fingertips. Bai Zhi stood half a step behind him, her gaze fixed on the fragment in his palm—the edges had burned into curls, yet a hook-shaped pattern remained in its center, like half a broken crescent moon.
"This isn't an ordinary burn mark." She kept her voice very low. "The fire burned from the inside out."
Chen Wuya did not look up, merely raising the strip of cloth to his nose. A faintly fishy scent slipped into his nostrils. It was unlike the smell of blood; rather, it resembled the odor of ironware dug from damp earth after being buried for years. The system buzzed in his mind: "Residual fluctuations from a demonic art detected. Energy signature matches the secret talismans of Blood Shadow Hall, with a compatibility rate exceeding ninety percent."
He slowly tucked the cloth into his sleeve pocket, rubbing his knuckles twice against the coarse fabric. "Old Wu Tou said he went to fetch medicine, but that house's roof collapsed three years ago. If he'd really gone back, he wouldn't have taken only this."
Bai Zhi stared at the crooked doorframe and suddenly said, "When he went out last night, he was clutching an old handkerchief. I thought he was using it to wipe sweat."
"And now it's gone?"
She nodded.
Chen Wuya rose and dusted off his knees. "Someone had him take something out—or... bring something back."
Before his words had faded, a burst of hurried hoofbeats came from afar. The two of them immediately slipped sideways into the shadow at the corner of the hut. A moment later, three swift horses galloped past along the mountain path. Their