Elder Mingshi bowed once more, and with a single wave of his hand, his masked entourage followed him out of the courtyard, vanishing into the darkness beyond the gate.
Silence lingered long after their departure.
Finally, the head of the Golden Scales Merchant Union turned toward Lin Mu.
"We owe you. All of you. Without your intervention…"
Lin Mu sheathed his swords, still watching the gate. "We need to talk. Tonight."
Daoist Chu nodded. "Something big is moving. And they're watching it unfold."
Meng Bai knelt beside a wounded guest, helping them sit upright. "And whatever they're planning… that was just a taste."
The night air was thick with unease as Lin Mu and his companions returned to their inn. The inn itself was quiet, tucked away in a calmer part of the Golden Scales City, far from the banquet hall's now-ruined grandeur. Yet the silence in their room wasn't peaceful—it was the kind that followed bloodshed.
