The Twin Pines Hall was crowded with warriors, scholars, and wandering swordsmen. A martial gathering had been called—ostensibly to honor the season, but in truth to cool the rising feud between Azure Cloud Sect and Iron Saber Alliance.
Silken banners hung from the rafters. Servants poured wine into bronze cups. In one corner, beggars lounged, their ragged eyes sharper than any blade.
Yun Liang entered with the grace of a man who belonged everywhere. His robe was spotless, his folding fan drifting lazily in his hand. He bowed to both sides, offering courteous greetings. None suspected he was the hand that had fanned their feud.
An Azure Cloud elder, voice smooth as silk, rose to speak. "Let us not forget, gentlemen, that righteousness guides our swords. We are guardians of order, not brawlers."
The Iron Saber leader slammed his cup. "Order? Your disciples poison our wine and then hide behind poetry!"
Accusations flared. Voices rose. Hands strayed to hilts.
Yun Liang stood, his smile serene. "Brothers," he said lightly, "a river divides because its waters rush too fast. Slow them, and it becomes a mirror."
His words soothed the crowd—yet he added, almost carelessly, "Of course, a mirror shows every blemish. I heard, not long ago, that an Azure Cloud scholar purchased rare powders in town… powders used for more than poetry ink."
Murmurs rippled like a breaking tide. The Iron Saber men growled, the Azure Cloud disciples protested. The hall trembled on the edge of violence once more.
As Yun Liang returned to his seat, Old Crane shuffled by and slipped a note beneath his sleeve. Later, alone in the moonlit courtyard, Yun Liang read the scrawled words:
"The Black Lotus Witch seeks a man surnamed Yun. Beware."
His fan closed with a snap. For the first time in years, his heart stirred with something deeper than calculation.
"Mother…" he whispered. "If the witch is truly you, then what blade do you bring into my game?"
The wind answered with silence, carrying only the scent of pine and the murmurs of distant quarrels.