The breeze that swept across the meadow was scented with mountain tea blossoms and damp clover. He carried none of the bitter metal tang of battlefield smoke.
From the southern defile road, light, rhythmic footsteps echoed over the cobblestones.
Su Ling’er approached the tea table with graceful, measured steps, her flowing white robes trimmed with silver silk and stitched with motifs of soaring cranes. Her nine snow-white fox tails swayed in hypnotic harmony behind her, their tips glistening with faint silver starlight. Beside her walked Patriarch Lu Feng of the Hundred Treasures Pavilion, his round merchant’s face beaming with unrestrained excitement as two of his attendants carried heavy rosewood chests inlaid with polished mother-of-pearl.
Following closely behind them, Xiao Hei walked with stately dignity, his glossy black fur shining in the afternoon light. Meanwhile, Tie Shan hauled a massive ten-foot frame stand table of smoothed white pine, placing it alongside Lin Xiao’s cedar table to create a spacious outdoor pavilion.
The five traditional elders—Xuan Ji, Hui Lun, Yan Lie, Liu Chen, and Mo Qian—stiffened slightly upon the wooden benches, their knuckles white against their robes.
In the traditional training world, the conclusion of a war was always an orgy of humiliation and plunder.
