The wind still blew, stirring the scorched earth at the edge of the rubble.
Chen Wuya stood at the edge of the rocky platform. The slip of paper bearing the words "three quarters past midnight, East Cliff Pass, verify the token" had already been folded and tucked into the inner pocket of his clothes together with the scrap of cloth. He did not look up at the sky again, nor did he turn back. The moment he moved, he headed toward the main camp.
Bai Zhi followed close behind, her sword still unsheathed, her steps light yet steady. The two crossed the field of shattered rocks. The disciples guarding the camp had already formed ranks around its perimeter, standing watch. Seeing Chen Wuya return, some seemed about to speak, but in the end they merely fell silent and made way.
A temporary stone platform had been erected in the center of the camp, torches planted around it and several oil lamps swaying in the wind. Representatives from the various martial sects arrived one after another. Some stood with swords on their backs, others sat cross-legged in meditation, their expressions varied. Some spoke in low voices, while others looked on coldly. They came from great powers such as the Heavenly Sword Sect, the Cang Sect, and the Green City Sect. All were elders or leading figures of their respective sects. Ordinarily, it was difficult to gather them in one place, yet today they had convened here because of the war at the border.
Chen Wuya stepped onto the stone platform but did not speak at once. He took out the charred scrap of cloth and gently spread it over the table, then unfolded the secret letter and pinned down one corner. Under the firelight, the broken chain and bell markings were