Assassins prized silence and stealth. Even when they filled Stone Fortress, most of the time they hid in the shadows. Apart from a few places in East Fortress set aside for training, they were rarely seen elsewhere.
Yet when the assassins left, the people living in Stone Fortress could still feel the emptiness they had left behind. The towering stone walls, once made mysterious by the assassins' presence, were now just piles of stone. Walking through the secluded alleys, people no longer feared black-clad figures and Narrow Sabers suddenly appearing, but the vengeful ghosts who had haunted the place for years.
Assassins killed people, so only they could keep the ghosts drifting through Stone Fortress at bay.
Zhang Ji naturally didn't believe such ghost stories. He simply thought it was quiet—quiet as a vast grassland. There, sometimes a rider could gallop for days and see nothing but the same scenery, as if the journey would never end. Every tent that came into view felt like an old friend.
He was old and neither used to nor fond of riding, so he walked to White Robe Courtyard, which stood close to the inner residence. That made the journey seem even longer.
He had once been a teacher in West Fortress, and often, when he had nothing to do in the afternoon, he would stroll over to White Robe Courtyard to read the pamphlets and books stored there. Others found them dry and dull, but he read them with keen interest.
Before he knew it, Zhang Ji had fallen into memories, recalling two other boys who shared his interests.
Even in his early teens, Shangguan Yun had seemed different from other children. He liked taking risks in Stone Fortress, much like Tenth Young Master, but he didn't need friends and always went