Lu Quanan tapped his thumb twice against the rim of his teacup. Yi Yang had seen this little habit of his several times; Lu Quanan always did it when he was pondering something.
Silence held inside the tent for five or six breaths.
Lu Quanan set down his teacup. His dark brown, almost black eyes rested on the map, his thoughts unreadable.
After a while, he spoke:
"The people from the Heavenly Heart Sect."
"Leave them be."
Yi Yang waited for him to continue, but Lu Quanan said nothing more.
"Let them act as they please."
Lu Quanan picked up his teacup, then put it down again, its base striking the table with a dull thud. "I have the Heavenly Heart Sect's affairs well in hand."
His words were decisive, and their meaning was clear-do not ask any more.
Yi Yang knew where to draw the line. If Lu Quanan did not want to discuss something, pressing him would get nowhere.
"Understood, sir."
He cupped his fist and withdrew.
As he left the tent, Yi Yang glanced back. Just before the flap fell shut, he caught sight of Lu Quanan's fingers still tapping the edge of the table, one beat after another, considerably slower than before.
The name Heavenly Heart Sect had reminded the Chief Inspector of something.
Yi Yang did not know what it was, but he made a mental note of that reaction.
Back at his quarters, Yi Yang barred the door.
The tent was small, with a camp bed, a low table, and his luggage piled in a corner.
He sat cross-legged on the bed, closed his eyes, and regulated his breathing for a dozen breaths, recovering most of the true astral force he had spent during the day.
Once his breathing steadied, Yi Yang called up