The fallen leaves in the back alley of the Imperial Ancestral Temple swirled as the night wind caught them. When Zhao Dechang’s official boots crushed one, the faint crunch of the leaf veins made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
He raised his hand and rapped three times on the wooden door of the dilapidated temple. His knuckles striking the rotting wood produced a hollow, rhythmic thud—it was the secret signal he had agreed upon with Chiyan, yet every knock now felt as if it were striking his own heart.
A hoarse, raspy voice came from inside, sharp like the scraping of metal: "Summoning me so late at night, Excellency? Has there been a complication?"
Chapter 162