The village of Lotus Basin always greeted the morning with stillness. But on that particular dawn, as Qingsai walked past the rice terraces with two noble girls behind him, the silence broke like glass.
Farmers stopped mid-harvest. Elders paused their chants. Children, once playfully chasing birds, stared wide-eyed.
Qingsai was bringing strangers—girls in foreign silk, bruised but regal. One with violet hair and queenly posture. The other with ringlets and the hesitant steps of a sheltered noble.
At the edge of the main circle, Master Luren stood waiting, arms crossed, jaw set. His weathered eyes met Qingsai's, and for a heartbeat, the world froze.
"I… need to speak with you," Qingsai said simply.
Luren gave a slow nod. "Inside. Now."