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Five chapters today (1/5).
Glazed gas lamps hung from the crossbars, their flames enclosed in specially made glazed shades. They burned a fuel refined from a gaseous mixture of luminous moss spores; the flames were almost colorless, yet exceptionally bright and steady.
Dust swirled through the beams cast by the glazed gas lamps in the Warehouse Courtyard as An Mingyuan gently laid a form covered in writing atop the stack of papers.
Zhu Wuneng called for the last few children to line up. His voice was as booming as ever, but now carried the ease of a job finished.
Chen Xiaojun's gaze swept across the dilapidated courtyard before him, which had already begun to show a little vitality, then across the young faces-some frightened, some curious, some harboring a barely perceptible trace of hope.
He took the stack of papers bearing the fates of more than a hundred people from Gu Yuanchao, his fingertips brushing the white pages.
He read slowly, his gaze calm and unruffled, as though surveying a silent field.
After a moment, he gently set the entire stack back on the table. The sound was barely audible, yet it seemed to press the mute button on the whole courtyard.
Every gaze, including those of Chen Mu and Gu Yuanchao, who stood nearby with their arms folded, settled on him.
He rose, his figure looking somewhat elongated beneath the setting sun.
He released no deliberate pressure, yet the composure born of his bloodline and standing seemed to thicken the very air.
"Where the Chen Clan stands," he said, his clear voice carrying a gentle resonance, "darkness stops."
Those few words came crashing down like an invisible boundary stone.
He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping over the sallow, emaciated children, then