At two o’clock in the morning, a bone-chilling mist rolled off the mountain slopes behind Taichu Hospital.
The city of Tianhai slept under a canopy of pale autumn stars.
On the southern terrace, the newly constructed glass dome of the Taichu Pure-Lotus Conservatory gleamed like a silver jewel in the moonlight.
Inside the climate-controlled dome, thousands of wild mountain herbs and the central Nine-Heart Spirit Lotus slept in rows of moist, fertile soil. Night-blooming orchids released subtle honey fragrances into the automated misting ducts, while pure subterranean spring water trickled through stone channels. It was a sanctuary of life and healing, untouched by the greed of the city outside.
A dark shadow slithered across the perimeter security wall like an enormous, boneless snake.
Elder Scorp moved without a sound. His bare, scabbed feet adhered to the polished glass panels like a gecko’s pads.
His black hemp robes flapped in the cold wind, emitting a faint, sickly stench of rotten carcasses and dried centipede venom.
Beneath his robes, his hunched spine twisted as he crouched above the central ventilation hatch.
