The secluded mountain trail leading up toward the Ruined Peak was choked with pine needles and fallen rock.
Ye Chen led a line of fifty surviving refugees, junior scribes, and wounded commoners up the narrow ridge, far away from the main thoroughfares where the cultist patrols roamed.
Behind them, the black smoke from Ironwood Street hung over the valley like a funeral shroud, but up on the high crags of the northern ridge, the air remained clear and crisp.
The Ruined Peak was the abandoned, forgotten courtyard where Elder Mu had lived in exile for twenty years.
The ancient stone walls were overgrown with wild ivy, the wooden training posts were weathered gray by wind and snow, and the small courtyard looked completely deserted in the dim afternoon light.
"Is anyone truly left up here
