The stars hung low above Mugang Martial Pavilion, their faint light filtering through the clouds like whispers over steel. Silent as a drifting shadow, Jinmu clung to the roof's edge, not a whisper of wind stirring his robes. His fingers, gloved and steady, found grip on a narrow beam, and in one smooth movement, he hoisted himself onto the tiled spine of the pavilion.
It's strange how easy this feels now, Jinmu mused as his gaze scanned the layers of walls and watch posts below. When I first started cultivating ki, I couldn't even stand on a rooftop without trembling. Now...
He let the thought fade. This wasn't the time for pride.
He crouched lower, his body wrapped in a loose gray robe stitched with thin strips of softened beast-hide—the same material as his mask and blade sheath. The way the material absorbed sound was uncanny, and it was perfect for what he was doing tonight.
Infiltrating the Mugang Martial Pavilion.
