The night was still. A bitter wind howled past the top of the Tower in the Land of Iron, whipping the edges of Yemu's cloak into a flutter.
Below the Tower, firelight lit the sky. The samurai and people of the Land of Iron were immersed in the joy of celebration.
The fragrance of wine filled the air, and laughter seemed ready to break through the cold, snowy night. Yet to Yemu, all that merriment might as well have belonged to another world.
His eyes were calm as he stood with his hands behind his back, watching the bustle below without a flicker of emotion.
Victory?
That was nothing worth celebrating.
To him, it was merely another step in his plan.
Without surprises, there was nothing to get excited about.
Just then, a faint creak came from behind him.
Yemu turned his head slightly, his ears twitching.
He felt no alarm, only an instinctive awareness.
The footsteps were light, but their rhythm belonged to one person alone.
That familiar presence reached him, accompanied by a faint fragrance.
Qingxue Uchiha.
As always, she was breathtakingly beautiful.
Black gauze wrapped her figure, thin as a cicada's wings, faintly tracing her alluring curves.
Her waist was slender enough to encircle with one hand, and her long legs crossed with each step. She moved with a serpent's sinuous grace, like a sprite slipping through the darkness, exuding a dangerous, deadly allure.
And beneath the firelight and moonlight, her eyes gleamed with a soul-stealing charm.
She approached slowly, holding a bottle of wine as red as blood.
"What's wrong?" Qingxue Uchiha settled onto the soft sofa, her skirt spreading out like the depths of night. "Not happy?"
Her voice was soft and seductive, its lingering notes tugging at the soul.
Yemu shook his head slightly