The smell of dried persimmon and damp mold clung to Elder Wu DeZheng’s office like an unpaid tax bill.
Outside, the golden pavilion erected by Envoy Chu Rong on the mountain’s northern crest radiated a constant, humming halo of royal light. It was an offensive, unblinking glare that kept the roosters crowing at two in the morning and cast harsh shadows across the humble slate courtyards of the Azure Cloud Sect.
A red wax seal lay crushed on Wu’s dark wood desk. It was stamped with the royal insignia of the Ministry of Ascension.
“Tomorrow at sunset,” Wu DeZheng moaned, rocking back and forth in his high-backed wicker chair. His knuckles were white as chalk as he clutched a cup of cold chrysanthemum tea. “The Envoy demands our tester roster. Every elder. Every chief student within half-step of Soul Formation. If we fail to deliver forty names with checked blood-pledge seals by dusk... He invokes the Planar Insolvency Act. He will freeze all sect grain silos and execute the leadership for seditious blocked path.”
In the corner of the room, sitting on a low bamboo mat with his back against the cold plastered wall, sat Lin Ke.
He hadn’t moved in sixteen hours.
