The old man spoke casually, but the leader of Paijiao felt his heart pound. Though the early spring air was bitterly cold, sweat broke out across his forehead. He had no idea what to do.
Planning a rebellion—and the murder of the emperor's entire family—was that something you could casually say in front of an outsider?
He could hardly say so outright. All he could do was try to change the subject.
"Sect Master! This thing is extraordinary. Do you know what it's called?"
The old man paused, then shook his head. "If I'd known it existed, I'd have found some way to get it long ago. Buy it, seek it out, steal it, seize it—whatever it took. Why would I wait until today to see it for the first time?"
At last, the leader had steered the conversation away. He breathed a little easier and looked at Pan Long. "Brother Pan, do you know its name?"
His question carried another meaning. The name of the strange metal hardly mattered. What mattered was drawing the old man's attention to Pan Long, so he would realize what he had just let slip.
Pan Long was no fool. One look at the leader's expression told him what the man meant. Laughing inwardly, he said, "This is the first I've heard that Paijiao wants to rebel too."
He drew out that last word, heavy and deliberate. The leader's eyes lit up at once.
"You too, Brother Pan?" he asked cautiously.
Pan Long gave him a knowing smile. "It's called Mithril. It comes from deep beneath the ground in another realm. Only a race born short and stocky, yet strong enough to fear neither fire nor water, can mine it."
The old man understood at once. "So that's it! There are indeed other realms,