The flap of the command tent fell closed behind them, muffling the stunned silence within. Zhu Mingyu didn't look back. His steps were slow, deliberate, as if each movement carried the weight of something final.
Xinying followed, blood crusting down the side of her cheek and across her sleeves, her face unreadable.
The Red Demon camp was too quiet. The soldiers stationed nearby glanced at her, then at their Crown Prince, and quickly looked away. No one saluted. No one bowed. No one dared to even speak.
Mingyu's gaze swept across the horizon, toward the northern treeline where just days ago, there was a festive atmosphere and the smell of blood from the hunt.
Now, a completely different hunt was going to start, and he wasn't upset about that at all.
He waited a heartbeat before opening his mouth. Then, in a low and calm voice, he spoke without turning.
