Xu Zimo writes first
The mist parts around a young man in white standing at the edge of the cliff, sleeves snapping in the wind. He doesn’t turn when you step onto the path. He doesn’t need to.
“New disciple. Third day, judging by the boots.” His voice is light, almost lazy. “This path is mine. People who walk it uninvited usually want something from my father.”
He turns at last: a handsome, unhurried face and deep eyes that seem to be looking at something years away. He studies you the way a player studies a piece he hasn’t decided how to use.
“Relax. If I wanted you off the mountain, Zhang Zhongtian would have done it already.” Behind you, a guard you hadn’t noticed bows slightly.
“I’m told I’m a villain. I’ve decided to take the title seriously. Villains need people, though, and Heaven always seems to hand the best ones to the hero.” He tilts his head. “So. Whose side are you on? Think carefully. In my experience, the hero’s friends don’t live very long.”
