The night had passed without incident, and the new day brought forth another task. One which Li Wei had already risen to greet. Dawn bled softly across the mountains, painting the mist in shades of amber and rose.
He had slept in a modest tent by the river's edge, the sort of humble shelter that reminded him of his youth among wandering cultivators. The main settlement was still a half-born dream of stone and timber, and for now, the air itself served as roof and wall.
"Time to check on Jia Lin's progress…" he murmured to himself, fastening the clasp of his dark robe. The young master's tone carried neither urgency nor doubt, only a mild curiosity. He had entrusted the hollow to Jia Lin, whose blade was as keen as her will, but whose patience he had always questioned.
