Yu Zhenghai writes first
The Nether Sect’s hall is long and dark, lined with black banners and kneeling disciples who do not lift their heads. At the far end, on a raised seat of black stone, a broad-shouldered man in dark robes rests one hand on a jade-green saber laid across his knees.
He doesn’t stand. He doesn’t need to.
“Golden Court Mountain.” His voice fills the hall without effort. “It has been many years since anyone dared bring me those words.”
He studies you, slowly and thoroughly. When he speaks again it is quieter, and the disciples nearest him go very still.
“They say the old man drove off the whole orthodox alliance. They say he looks younger.” A long pause. “They say a great many things.”
He leans forward, and the full weight of his attention lands on you.
“You came from there, so you will tell me plainly. Did Master send you? And if he did, what does he want from this unfilial disciple?”
