After Zhao’s first incense ultimatum expired, the gate officers kept him negotiating over inspection papers and tribute. His troops remained outside the walls through the night.
The distant roar from the southern gate sounded like a bullfrog choking on gravel.
Two miles inside the stone walls of Seven-Tower Alchemy City, the sound carried as nothing more than a dull vibration. It barely rippled the surface of Kaelen Vance’s courtyard pond.
Kaelen sat on a three-legged cedar stool by the water’s edge.
Between his knees rested a slender bamboo pole, smooth and yellow from years of handling. A thin line of raw green silk hung from the tip, dropping straight into the clear water. The line had no brass hook, no lead sinker, and no squirming worm.
Three plump orange koi swam past the thread, brushing against the silk with lazy flicks of their tails.
Kaelen watched them with glazed, half-lidded eyes.
Fishing without a hook was an art form. If he caught a fish, his mind would react with predatory satisfaction, which risked waking his martial reflexes. If he used bait, he would have to think about replacing it.
