PREVIEW

... vances stem from blood spilled by our own hands. Each drop calls for an ocean in return.

—Master Wu Zhi, Commander of Ten Thousand

Xiulan watched Ren Chun and Feng Yu across the garden. They spoke in hushed tones while her brother Zhang Wei practiced nearby. His wooden sword cut through the air with determined swings.

The sweet scent of jasmine tea wafted from her mother’s cup as she poured. Behind Xiulan, Mei Chen knelt on an embroidered cushion with unnatural stillness— ...

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