The Dragon Head's Summons, Face to Face

The flying car tore through the air and headed straight for the back mountain.

At its summit stood a cave. Lin Xiaosu followed the man in red inside, where a heavy door parted silently and an old man rose from behind a desk.

The man looked to be in his fifties or sixties, his hair streaked with gray.

At first glance, he was an ordinary retiree.

But his eyes shone bright as autumn water.

There was no trace of genetic power about him, nor could Lin Xiaosu sense any flow of true qi. Still, he felt the bearing and presence of a man accustomed to high office.

The heavy door closed behind him.

The young man in red had vanished as well.

The old man approached with a smile and held out his hand.

"Dragon Head!" Lin Xiaosu reached out and shook it.

"Sit," the Dragon Head said with a smile.

They sat on the sofa ahead.

The Dragon Head picked up a pot from the table. Hot water filled it, and two teacups sat nearby. He placed tea leaves in the cups and poured the water over them. The leaves stood upright, then slowly unfurled.

"How was the view from the thirty-third floor?" the Dragon Head asked.

"Wide open. A bit windy, and a little cold." Lin Xiaosu accepted the tea he offered and dipped his head in thanks.

"The heights are too cold to bear. But only by standing high can you see farther," the Dragon Head said.

Their exchange sounded like small talk, yet something deeper ran beneath it.

They spoke of scenery, but not scenery alone. They spoke of where one stood in life.

The Dragon Head lifted his cup and took a sip. "The Qianlong Headquarters Forum blew up over your climb today."

"Blew up?"