Dawn had barely broken. The pod was still in her hand, and Bai Zhi had only gotten halfway through her words—"If one day, someone comes knocking—"
A cloud of dust rose from the distant path.
Chen Wuya's hand did not move, but his gaze had already locked onto the dirt road winding into the woods. Wind poured in through the mountain pass, making the cloths on the laundry line sway gently. A hen in the coop fluttered its wings once, then fell quiet again.
He slowly loosened his fingers, and half a pod dropped beside his feet.
The dust drew nearer. The footsteps were steady, neither hurried nor slow; each step seemed to land upon stone slabs, making the ground faintly tremble. The visitor wore a black wolfskin cloak, with a high nose and deep-set eyes. The curved saber at his waist remained sheathed, its ruby pommel gleaming with a cold light beneath the sun. He stopped before the slope, folded his hands across his chest, and performed a Northern Desert salute.
"By order of Third Prince Tuoba Lie, this envoy pays his respects to Young Master Chen." His voice was low and hoarse, every word crisp. "This place is secluded indeed. It is no place for an ordinary man to dwell."
Chen Wuya did not answer. He merely stepped forward, placing himself before Bai Zhi. His hands rested behind his back and his shoulders were slightly raised, as though he stood there casually. In truth, every sinew in his body was already taut, Misaligned Force silently circulating through his meridians, ready at any moment to reverse-surge through the Extraordinary Meridians.
"What do you want?" he asked.
The envoy drew a golden casket from his robes and opened it. Inside lay a deed, its ink still fresh and stamped with