In the quiet of the night, Song Ciwan continued to extend her Spiritual Sense outward.
Meanwhile, Brother Yun kept his vigil on the rooftop for the better part of an hour.
The leather pouch he guarded remained stubbornly deflated. Too much time had passed. The moon had retreated behind the clouds, and the stars, in contrast, were beginning to shine brighter. Dawn could not be far off.
Resigned, Brother Yun carefully put away the still-limp leather pouch.
He took the pouch back to his room, which he shared with other performers from the troupe. However, Brother Yun's movements were several times more nimble than Little Yao Family's. His roommates were fast asleep, and no one was roused by his return.
The rest of the night passed without incident, but Song Ciwan transformed into a gentle breeze and slipped out the window.
