Jin Yue learned the truth from strangers.
He had not gone looking for it.
He was seated in the corner of a small tea shop two streets away from the main avenue, hood lowered just enough to obscure the sharper lines of his face. The shop was narrow and long, its walls stained dark from years of steam and smoke. Steam curled lazily from kettles behind the counter, fogging the glass panes that separated the interior from the street.
The shop was crowded...not with officials or cultivators, not with silk robes or sword hilts gleaming in lamplight...but with ordinary people.
Shopkeepers who had closed early. Laborers with dust still clinging to their sleeves. Young apprentices flushed with excitement. Elderly patrons who had lived through more tournaments than they could count.
They sought warmth. Noise. Distraction.
The city swelled toward the tournament like a tide pulling everything with it.
The air buzzed with rumor.
