Yellow Sand

Yellow sand surged three yards high, pounding against the inn's long-rotted wooden door.

This was Shazhou, the westernmost frontier of the Tang Empire, a gateway to hell. Beyond it lay Tibetan territory; behind it was the domain of the Zhang family and the Guiyi Army. Everyone struggling to make a living in this narrow strip of land was like a bone worn smooth by wind and sand: hard, yet brittle.

Pei Lie sat in the darkest corner of the inn. Before him sat a plate of air-dried mutton and a pot of cloudy Shaodao liquor. His saber leaned against the table, a straight-backed hengdao with a scabbard wrapped in polished sharkskin, plain and unadorned. Dark hemp cloth was wound around the hilt. It had been soaked in blood too many times, giving it a nearly black, dusky red hue. ...

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.