The map burned in Ling Tian's grip as they crouched on the cliffside. Below, the Ghostfang Bandit Fortress squatted like a Starved Tortoise—a siege beast from the Ling Clan's old war manuals."—black banners snapping in the wind, the stench of rotting meat wafting even at this distance.
Qing'er counted sentries. "twenty guards—twice as many as the Violet Thunder Sect would've assigned to something this valuable." Half are Qi Condensation. The rest..." She trailed off as a hulking figure emerged—his arms grafted with the same demonic scales as Bai Zhan's.
Ling Tian's fingers found the jade shard in his pocket—the last remnant of his pendant. The dragon mark on his chest throbbed in response.
"Two rules," Qing'er said, tightening her blindfold. "No flames until we find your sister. And don't die."
They moved like shadows through the fortress. Ling Tian's dagger found throats. Qing'er's sword severed spines.
Then—a muffled scream from the central tower.
Ling Mei's voice.