February fifteenth. Night.
A bitter wind slashed like knives across the ridges of Bell Mountain, howling mournfully.
Heaven-Reaching Gate, the only passage into Bell Mountain, lay shrouded in heavy darkness.
Cliffs rose on either side as though split apart by a giant axe, piercing the clouds and leaving only a narrow, twisting path between them.
Several figures seemed to grow out of the night, gathering soundlessly beneath the stone marker at the mountain entrance.
There were only seven of them.
At their head stood Li Tingyun in a black cloak, an ancient-looking long blade in his hand. He stood straight as a spear, radiating the grim authority of a Capital City noble.
Beside him stood Third Master Cao. He had traded his usual jacket for close-fitting night clothes, with two Mauser C96s tucked into his belt.
Cao Xiaoliu followed behind him, carrying a bulging pack stuffed with who knew how much ammunition. Nervous excitement filled his face; this was clearly his first job on this scale.
Daoist Miaoxuan carried a Peachwood Sword on her back and held a whisk in her hand. Her robes stirred in the wind, her gaze was cool, and she had the bearing of a true master.
Zheng Tonghe carried a medicine chest and leaned on an ironwood staff. He looked like a wandering Physician, but the cold glint at the staff's tip showed it was no ordinary object.
Then there was Qin Geng, dressed in close-fitting clothes under a black outer shirt. His arms hung at his sides, his whole body utterly relaxed yet ready to erupt at any moment.
One more person crouched on the ground, busy at work.
It was Lu Xingmin.
Shopkeeper Lu had shed his usual smiling merchant's manner. Holding a stack of cutout paper figures, he muttered under his breath