Inside, the air was thick with dust and darkness.
Bai Zihan stepped casually into the building said to be the Black Lantern Society's headquarters, his hands still tucked in his sleeves, his eyes calm.
The space was dimly lit by flickering oil lamps mounted on the cracked walls, casting dancing shadows that made the old wooden beams creak like something alive.
The floor was scuffed, bloodstained in places, and the scent of dried herbs barely masked the iron tang that clung to the room.
There were people inside.
A dozen men and women in black clothes and veils lounged around low tables, some sharpening blades, others drinking tea.
But the moment the door creaked open behind Bai Zihan, every head turned.
Weapons slid from sleeves. Killing intent flickered like lightning in their eyes.
"Who are you?"
One of them barked, stepping forward, hand already on the hilt of a curved dagger. His voice was hoarse, and a long scar ran down his cheek.
