In a peach grove in full bloom, a breeze sent petals swirling everywhere. A faint peach-blossom fragrance drifted through the air. It was the third month of spring, when grass grew lush and orioles darted about, a season of warm springtime splendor.
In the rear garden of Shaohao Palace, the most mysterious sect in the martial world, a breathtakingly beautiful woman sat alone beside a stone table. The table was enormous and laden with delicacies, as if prepared for a family feast, yet she sat there all by herself, drinking alone. Her fingers, translucent as white jade, held a glass goblet, making for a picture of exquisite beauty. The cup was filled with wine as red as blood. Her tipsy, misty eyes gazed at the goblet before her, and a faint smile touched her face. She tipped the wine in her hand into her mouth and drank it down, then poured another cup and drained that one too. She drank more than a dozen cups in succession, as though she could never get drunk. The more she drank, the brighter her eyes grew.
A breeze swept past, carrying a flurry of falling petals and a heady fragrance. It should have been a scene of breathtaking beauty, but then a trace of blood entered the air. As the wind strengthened, the stench of blood grew thicker, thick enough to make one sick.
From the shadows at the edge of the peach grove, a handsome man stepped out. Dressed in a long robe, he wore a worried expression as he addressed the beautiful woman. “Madam, it’s been two days already. We should bury these bodies. If word gets out, the others will come rushing here, and then we won’t be able to leave...”
