He bent down, tore off a piece of white cloth from the lining of his official robe, and wrote quickly with a charcoal pen under the rising moonlight outside the window.
The tip of the pen scratched the coarse cloth, making a rustling sound. Every word penetrates the back of the cloth:
Three miles west of Iron Gate Pass, Pinzi Huai, ambushed on the trail.
Rocks fell at the southern pass of Heifeng Gorge.
Zhao Kuoyin changed defense at the beginning and the east gate was on guard.
In the west city granary, at the southeast corner of the C-shaped warehouse, move the tung oil barrels and prepare 300 kilograms of sand and soil.
After writing the last sentence, he stopped writing and stared at the piece of cloth.
The moonlight slanted in from the high window, shining on the ink marks and the reverse scale marks on his palms. One light and one dark, as if some strange contract had just been signed.
"Father," Lin Mu whispered, his voice echoing in the empty warehouse, "Teach me to do what I should do, regardless of the consequences."
He gathered up the piece of cloth and hid it close to his body. When he turned around and walked towards the library door, his back was straight, as if he had unloaded something and picked up something again.
"Then tonight, my son will use the power of this demon to fight for a chance of survival."
"Even if it's an abyss——"
He pushed open the wooden door. The guard outside the door was startled by the look in his eyes.
"I also want it to devour those who deserve it first."
The night wind blew in, carrying the unique earthy smell before the rain. Thunder rolled across the sky, and there was a faint flash of lightning behind the clouds.
