Lian Hua sat with one leg crossed over the other, her phoenix pendant swaying gently.
"This is a different kind of war. Not one of armies, but of shadows and silence."
Tian Shen didn't speak. He stared down at a jade slip filled with the original battlefield notes—sketches, talisman readings, spiritual imprints.
None of it matched what they saw now.
"I hate this kind of enemy."
He muttered.
"I'd rather face a shown blade than a hidden ghost."
...
That night, a soft knock came at Feng Yin's door.
It was Elder Su.
"They've left us a puzzle."
She said.
"And puzzles have keys."
"What do you mean?"
Elder Su handed her a sealed envelope. Inside was a single line written in black qi-ink—faintly pulsing like veins of living energy.
"The rot is not on the edge. It grows from the root."
Feng Yin stared at the words.
"They're already inside."
Elder Su nodded.
