A cold wind blew from the north, seemingly indifferent to life, filling heaven with frost. That wind drifted through the forest seven days away from the Eight Sect Coalition. Winter had finally come. Dead leaves fell, taking what little moisture remained in them and adding it to the mud in which they landed. The mud grew thicker. It was nighttime, so the cold was particularly harsh.1

Xu Qing crouched down, a dagger in his hand, ready to take action. He wasn’t sure if he could stay hidden from these people. All he could do was remain calm and quiet and hope not to disturb them. Of course, he couldn’t help wondering what it meant about the sect that Master Shengyun and his father were here, safe and sound.0

The other two people in the group, those with the black cloaks,...0