The Spirit lamps emitted a dangerous light.
Han Yu knew even these mundane looking spirit lamps were in fact part of an offensive arrays. These lamps could very well turn into sentry turrents if a threat was detected.
Chitterfang avoided it instinctively, slipping between snowbanks and hugging the bases of buildings. Where snow was thick, he tunneled through it, his small body disappearing beneath the surface like a fish through water. Where stone dominated, he clung to shadows, darting from cover to cover.
Human activity here was far greater than below.
Even at this late hour, figures moved along the paths. Elders in heavy robes passed silently, their footsteps barely audible. Disciples moved with purpose, some alone, some in pairs, their expressions serious and focused.
Chitterfang did not recognize ranks or faces, but he could feel the weight of their presence. These were not the hot-blooded, reckless disciples of the outer peaks.
These were people who belonged here.
