Early the next morning, dawn had barely broken.
The dirt road through the herb field outpost still held the chill of the previous night, and a thin layer of white frost clung to the withered grass.
Wu Mingjiang returned on horseback.
He was travel-worn, his dark blue robe covered in dust and his eyes bloodshot. Clearly, he had not slept all night.
He had barely rested on his journey back from home.
Dismounting, Wu Mingjiang tossed the reins to a tenant farmer at the village entrance and strode toward the outpost.
His footsteps were heavy, each step landing with a dull thud on the frozen earth.
With his Iron Leg Technique trained to this level, his legs scarcely seemed made of flesh anymore. Every step was like two iron pillars being driven into the ground.
"I was only gone a few days. Nothing should have gone wrong..."
For some reason, his right eyelid had been twitching throughout the journey.
A wiry old Manor Guard had been waiting at the village entrance since early morning. At the sight of Wu Mingjiang, he hurried forward.
"Lord Wu, this way, please. Lord Mo is waiting for you in the meeting hall."
Wu Mingjiang paused. "Waiting for me?"
He had no idea why, but nodded and followed the old Manor Guard toward the courtyard.
The moment he entered, Wu Mingjiang froze.
The meeting hall was small, with a square pearwood table in the middle and two grand armchairs on either side.
Mo Yun sat in the seat of honor, his back straight as a pine.
Huang Shan and Zhao Gang sat on either side.
Huang Shan's expression was cold as frost, and she cradled the Willow-Leaf Sword wrapped in red cord.
Zhao Gang resembled an iron tower, his bell-sized eyes fixed on the doorway,