Abandoned Baiguang Checkpoint
The fire was already out when Shi Yaozu arrived.
That was the first problem.
A checkpoint burned by retreating soldiers should've left smoke, glowing embers, heat pulsing from the timber. This one was cold. Neat. A structure that was not destroyed, but rather emptied.
He dismounted quietly, his boots hitting the frost-covered ground without a sound. The only light came from the moon slipping between clouds. No wind. No birds. Even the trees were still.
Three soldiers moved with him—his own handpicked shadows. No armor, no words. They knew better.
Baiguang hadn't just left in a hurry. They had already prepared to vanish.
The checkpoint was made of three buildings—an outer barrack, a record hall, and a storage hut. All three stood upright. Not burned down. Not ransacked. Not looted.
And Yaozu didn't like it.
He drew a curved blade from his side—not because he expected a fight, but because caution was his nature.
