Night fell across the vast stone avenues of Ye Heavenly City like a heavy, dark blanket.
The bustling street vendors who had spent the daytime hawking low-grade medicinal herbs, fried meat skewers, and coarse beast hides had packed away their wooden stalls.
Iron lanterns hanging from the eaves of tall brick buildings flickered with pale, dancing flames, throwing long, crooked shadows across the damp gray pavers.
A cold wind blew down from the eastern ridges, carrying the bitter scent of wet dust and fallen autumn leaves.
Near the corner of a quiet crossing, a lone shadow darted between two shuttered tea houses.
Ye Fan was sneaking around and looking around to check for any passerby in the streets of Ye Heavenly City.
He pulled the hood of his rough, charcoal-colored travel cloak deep over his brow, hiding his face in thick shadow.
