The evening approached like a tightening noose.
The metropolis, usually bustling with laughter, quarrels, and hawker cries, felt eerily subdued. Torches burned along the central boulevard, casting wavering gold across the jade towers that flanked the Oolong headquarters. Word of the impending execution had traveled fast. Much too fast and now the streets hummed .
Merchants whispered behind shutters, while Commoners murmured prayers.
Cultivators felt their qi coil uneasily.
Somewhere, a mother held her child tightly. Elsewhere, a group of elderly monks shook their heads at the cruelty of the world. In the midst of this, a single young man walked with calm, measured steps.
Each one echoing like a drumbeat preparing for war, Li Wei did not hide anymore.
He moved through the city dressed in plain, travel-worn robes, hood drawn low, the faint glow of the emerald compass tucked into his sleeve illuminating his path in subtle pulses.
