The moon hung low above the Qianlong Province, its pale light crawling across the jagged stone like the touch of a dying emperor trying to reclaim a land already slipping through his fingers. A cold wind swept down the ridges, scattering dust across the barren slopes where nothing grew except stubborn weeds and old grudges.
It was in this desolate place that Li Wuji made his lair and it was here that Li Wei from far above, hidden in a drifting cloud of mist. Positioned on an illusion-shrouded carpet, calmly watched the activity in silence like a coiled serpent.
The young master's expression darkened as he surveyed the mountain's base. A crude camp stretched far into the ravine, torches burning like the eyes of hungry ghosts. Tattered banners bearing the Blood Lotus insignia fluttered harshly in the wind. Bodies, both fallen cultists and slaughtered villagers, were stacked for ritual offerings along the southern ridge.
