The silver chain rattled in the wind, and the swaying watch face reflected the blood-red dusk.
Xia Lun glanced almost imperceptibly at the riders' positions. They stood in a broad fan, with someone in every direction. Three of them were close to White Line, making it hard to tell which one had stopped the Pocket Watch.
His dark eyes swept over the group. His thoughts ran clear and cold as a stream, and in a flash, he realized he needed a new pretext to mingle with them and find whoever had been in contact with the Secret Art Scholar.
By then, he had reached the hitching post. The horses kept their heads down and pawed hard at the dirt, their eyes reflecting the bloody sunset and brimming with agitation.
Xia Lun stopped and said casually, "The horses aren't acting right. People say animals have sharper instincts than we do. Something's wrong here. You'd better be careful."
"Obviously," said the dark-skinned guard. "So, do you have any advice?"
Xia Lun turned and pointed at White Line. "My partner is a Sun Priest skilled in combat. She might be able to help you."
The riders all looked toward White Line. Her presence was so oddly faint that most of them had only just noticed her.
White Line blinked. Her eyes gave nothing away, making her look like a Sun Priest who kept her feelings buried and her thoughts close.
A moment later, she shifted her gaze and gave the riders a slight nod.
"Which family are you from?" the young woman asked curiously. "What position will you inherit? My father is—"
Before she could finish, White Line strode to the iron gate. She wrapped her pale hand around one of its sturdy bars, clenched her fingers, dropped her shoulder, tucked in her