The wind between the peaks was cold. Su Ming stood balanced on the Crimson Heaven Sword, his hands tucked in his white sleeves. The blade glided smoothly through the clouds, its runes keeping the freezing mist at bay. Below, the core mountain range stretched out like a sleeping stone dragon, blanketed in fog.
Illusion Moon Peak rose in the eastern quadrant. Unlike the fiery Vermilion Flame Peak or the metallic Golden Qilin Peak, this was a quiet, spectral mountain. Purple-and-silver flora clung to the cliffs, their leaves humming with a vibration that warped the surrounding light.
Su Ming guided his sword downward, landing on the outer boundary plaza—a stone platform jutting from the cliff. With a thought, the sword shrank and slid back into his storage ring.
Beyond the plaza, there was no bridge. Instead, a massive, mirrored fog hung suspended over a deep abyss, completely blocking the main gate from view.
