Xueyan Huo Sect
The room was still.
Snowfall had thickened outside,
its icy touch seeping into the chamber and chilling the air...
yet the cold here was not only of winter.
It was the kind of cold born from sorrow.....
from carrying an uninvited burden of pain.
Lady Mei Ying's heart felt as if weighed by stone.
No matter how well they might pretend,
no matter what mask they wore.....
the truth remained unchanged.
Their curse lingered.
The room's silence was heavy,
pressing down with a suffocating stillness.
And then....
a voice broke it.
---
Master Ren Zhou spoke,
his tone low and steeped in grief.
His words seemed to dissolve into the fading light of the evening:
"We must depart before it's too late....
for the journey we have been feigning.
If they search our supplies,
they will learn the truth....
that the wagons carry not fruits and vegetables,
but abducted children we have concealed.
The ritual begins tomorrow evening,
and we must reach Xuemo Sect by tonight.
And… we must also dispel the rumor
that stains the name of Grandmaster Kin Lishuan.
I heard it from Su Ri,
Su ri claimed to have heard it from Master Kinji....
that High King Mo Yan's reincarnation has succeeded.
If this is true…
it is both a joy,
and a sorrow."
---
When his voice fell silent,
so too did the room.
Outside,
the last light of the sun slipped beneath the horizon,
and darkness slowly claimed the world.
---
Later…
Night had fully descended.
In the heavens,
the moon shone in perfect roundness,
like a luminous pearl set upon the black silk of the sky.
The white snow glittered under its glow,
a cold beauty crowned by the faint whisper of wind.
Snowflakes fell softly,
as if the trees were shaking loose their petals with quiet devotion.
---
Even in the heavy snowfall,
the market was alive.
Lanterns blazed bright,
fires crackled in iron braziers,
and people sat huddled around them,
laughing and trading tales.
Stalls bustled with trade,
colorful goods hanging in vibrant display.
---
Through this cheer and motion,
a carriage moved slowly.....
so slowly as to draw no suspicion.
Yin Fengxian sat at the front,
hands steady upon the reins,
his expression calm,
his every movement measured.
The carriage slipped through the market,
its pace unhurried,
its passage unremarkable.
They had crafted this deception
with meticulous care.