PREVIEW
... ke a velvet shroud, deceptively peaceful and fragrant. The air was cool, carrying the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the salty tang of the distant sea. From the disciples’ quarters in the valley below, the soft, melodious strumming of zithers and the haunting notes of bamboo flutes drifted up on the wind—a nightly practice that wove a protective web of sonic spiritual energy around the sect.
In the luxurious guest pavilion near the summit, Wang Jian sat at a low table made of polish ...
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