For a time, the other Martial Trials in the Scale Trial's first three days seemed to cease to matter. Everyone's eyes followed this Heir Apparent, anticipating and discussing how those legendary names ahead of him would face him.
Yet those names ahead of him wore varied expressions. Since seeing his sword yesterday, most had grown pensive or grave. Qun Fei toyed with his fan, his brows faintly knitted. Lu Wei's ever-present smile had vanished, and he stared expressionlessly into empty space. Qiu Si looked furious, veins bulging on the hand gripping his sword hilt, his teeth grinding audibly.
The few Cold Corners-Yan Feiqing, Shang Yunning, Mei Jianxi, and the others-remained as they always were, though Shang Yunning, too, lowered his head and pressed a hand to his sword.
It was as though a catfish had suddenly swum in. Though their turn to take the platform would not come until the round of sixteen, an atmosphere of drawn swords and bent bows already seemed to have descended.
Yong Ji stepped down from the Sword Platform. Naturally, no one struck up a conversation with the Heir Apparent. He boarded a carriage and left the grounds before dusk.
Pei Ye had not gone to the Winter Sword Platform today.
He pushed open the palace gates of Bright Moon Hall, which he had not visited in a long time. Beside him, Ying Suyu stood still even longer than he did.
She looked up at the ruined hall and old courtyard. In truth, it was more full of life than in winter. The snow had long since disappeared, and luxuriant weeds stretched freely after several rains. The flowering trees and shrubs were dotted all over with green, red, and pink.
They concealed the broken doors and shattered bricks, lending the place a kind of