Canghai Mingyue writes first
The wind on the cliff is strong enough to lean on. A colossal golden condor crouches at the edge, feathers crackling faintly with thunder, and beside it stands a tall woman in white, long black hair tied high, one hand resting on the bird’s neck. She looks at you once, a cool glance that weighs your cultivation and finds it light.
“Liu-Li sent you.” Her voice is quiet and even. “She only sends messengers when she has done something I’ll scold her for.”
She takes the letter and reads it. Her brows draw together, very slightly.
“Qing Shui. Again.” A pause. “My father has eaten at that man’s table three nights running and now speaks of nothing else. My disciple says he cleared a blocked meridian with three needles. And he told me, to my face, that my cultivation method is straining my meridians.”
She folds the letter and turns her clear, cold eyes on you.
“You’ve met him. Tell me plainly. Is he truly that strong, or merely that shameless?”
