The moon hung high above the sect grounds, shrouded behind thin wisps of drifting cloud, casting a silvery glow upon the rooftops of the disciple quarters. A cool breeze whispered across the tiles, rustling leaves and carrying with it the faint scent of blooming night orchids. The sect was silent at this hour, save for the distant echo of night watch disciples patrolling the outer walls, their steps muffled by the mist that crept across the mountain paths.
On one of the rooftops, a slender figure crouched in the shadows. It was Li Yao. Her eyes were sharp beneath the veil covering her face, her breath calm yet deliberate. She had just received word from her master—a quiet, cold voice transmitted directly to her spiritual sea. The voice brought her hesitation to a halt.
