The clap was deliberate, slow enough to be mocking.
From the shadowed end of the gorge, the stranger stepped forward — pale eyes glinting in the moonlight spilling through the narrow crack above. The snow on his shoulders hadn't melted, as if the cold belonged to him.
Stranger: "I've hunted beasts and men. But rarely do prey fall into the trap themselves."
Feng Lian stepped forward, sword loose at his side, mouth curved into a smile that promised blood.
Feng Lian: "Good. I was worried this avalanche would be boring."
Lan Xiyue's stance shifted, the tip of his blade aligning with the man's chest.
Xiyue: "You have one chance to speak your purpose before I cut you down."
Stranger (grinning): "Purpose? To remind you both what blood tastes like."
The movement was sudden — faster than falling snow. His weapon, a wickedly curved glaive, swept low toward Xiyue's legs. Xiyue blocked, the clash ringing like a temple bell in the narrow space.
Feng Lian darted in, fire sparking from his palm — but the stranger twisted, using the glaive's length to keep them apart.
Ruo Han pressed back against the gorge wall, breath quick, eyes scanning for an opening. He knew if he stepped wrong, he'd be a weakness. But Xiyue's voice cut through the fight:
Xiyue: "Ruo Han! Left wall — now!"
Without thinking, Ruo Han leapt. His fingers caught a ledge; his other hand snapped a throwing blade from his belt. The moment the stranger parried Xiyue's strike, Ruo Han's blade flashed down — forcing the man to pivot and giving Feng Lian his opening.
A burst of fire seared across the stranger's side. He hissed, retreating a step.
Stranger (smiling despite the burn): "Better than I thought."
But when he looked at Ruo Han, his tone darkened.
Stranger: "I'll have you before the next moon rises."
The promise made Xiyue's blade flare with killing intent.
Xiyue: "You'll be dead before this one sets."
They clashed again — three against one, the gorge ringing with steel, fire, and the sound of snow shifting above.