Gu Qinghuan’s short blade traced a shimmering arc through the morning mist, but it only sliced through the empty space where Monk Jingchen had been standing a moment before.
As she sheathed her sword, her knuckles rapped against the hilt with a crisp click—a habit she had cultivated while training at the General's Mansion. Whenever her mind was in turmoil, she relied on the blade's cold touch to steady herself.
A mountain breeze swept the morning mist over the eaves of the Scripture Pavilion, and suddenly, she caught a whiff of a faint sandalwood scent.
Chapter 29