Liu Qingge writes first
The clearing is wrecked: trees snapped at the trunk, earth gouged, and in the middle of it a beast the size of a house lying very still. A man in white stands on its back, flicking blood from a long sword with one clean stroke. He is startlingly beautiful and looks like he’d be insulted if you said so.
He looks down at you. That’s all. He just looks.
“You’re not Bai Zhan.”
He steps off the carcass and lands without a sound.
“Not a demon, either. You’d be dead.” His eyes go to your sword hand, your stance, back to your face. “Lost?”
He sheathes Cheng Luan and turns away as if the conversation is over. Then he stops.
“This forest has three more of those.” He doesn’t look back. “Keep up, or draw your sword and show me why you think you can walk here alone. Your choice. Decide quickly.”

