The night was as thick as ink, quietly dyeing the grand outline of the castle. The stars lingered amidst dark clouds, the moon hidden in obscurity.
Atop the sturdy beams, on the highest point of the distinctive castle, that shadow wearing a cloak and the lower half clad in the Head Maid’s skirt finally set down their feet, looking around the entire country with vigilance.
As the cloak was pulled off, a clear young man’s face was revealed—it was the youth who had been locked in the dungeon just yesterday.
His name was Ashan.
He stretched lazily, loosening up his bones, his short silver hair already dried from the damp.
Getting out of the heavily guarded dungeon of the castle had cost Ashan quite a bit of effort, but he was never someone ordinary; after employing a few tricks, he slipped out as easily as smoke.
“Silver hair… That Maid looked like she was also from Ai Yun,” Ashan murmured to himself in the shadowy corners of the castle, gazing up at the cloudy sky.
“With such a tiny body, she must have suffered plenty in this Blood Clan’s castle, huh? Hmph, serves her right. Who told her to serve that devil!”
Ashan slipped two fingers into the pocket on his chest and pulled out a cigarette. After unwrapping the paper, he put it in his mouth carelessly, puffing quietly.
Then, using the faint lamplight from the castle windows, he took out a pen and began to scribble rapidly across the bamboo scroll in his hand.
“That fool of a knight actually believed I was a sacrifice and brought me here. I didn’t expect to gather so much useful information—ha! What a windfall!” He grinned as he wrote, eyes shining with a glint of pride.
“Sigurd and Lenel seem united in name only, King Steyat has almost entirely been suppressed by the Queen’s faction—tsk! And there’s that mysterious little Princess, who’s even planning to betray Morlet. This is all too interesting!”
Numerous codes and symbols only decipherable by specific people were quickly listed on the paper. Ashan hurriedly finished the last set of code, then rolled up the paper into a small bamboo tube.
The bell had just struck. There was still a bit of time before the patrolling guards would arrive at this spot. Ashan took a deep breath, forming his hands into a leaf-shape next to his lips.
“Start the transmission.”
A strange, faint sound issued from his mouth, echoing softly through the night. A moment later, the flutter of wings sounded in the darkness—a bird with pitch-black feathers flew in and landed gently on Ashan’s shoulder.
Ashan stroked the bird’s feathers familiarly, then deftly secured the little bamboo tube beneath it. Lifting his hand, he watched as the black shadow vanished into the night sky.
“Good! The report has been delivered!”
He was in high spirits, as if victory was already at hand.
“My homeland, heed the flyers I drafted… Let them witness the power of the Black-Feathered Dreamers,” he muttered coldly, pulling the colored cloak tightly around his shoulders, the brim of his hat hiding half his face.
“If the Rebels can’t do it, then let me take revenge on these devils myself.”
Just then, a gust of wind swept by, candlelight flickered, and shadows crisscrossed the stone chamber. A patrolling guard yawned as he walked past.
Ashan’s figure flashed, swiftly slipping into a niche formed by a row of stone carvings. Like a ghost blending with the night, he vanished without a trace in an instant.
In the vast sky, that bird covered in black feathers like ink flew silently above the capital, Vailu. Its dainty claws were bound with a perfectly sealed letter.
Under the cover of night, the bird spread its wings and flew swiftly forward.
Day and night, it traversed thick clouds, soaring over the purple-blossomed, thriving towns and villages, skimming across the mighty Saint White River that ran north and south, never stopping as it winged toward the northern reaches of the kingdom.
At last, the black bird began to descend above Southern Breezewind Valley. By then, the first light of dawn was already breaking.
The first ray of morning light seeped into the gradually brightening sky. With the faint light, Southern Breezewind Valley was shrouded in a gauzy mist, everything seemingly soaked in the lingering echoes of the night.
“It’s so chilly this morning…”
The Rebel captain grumbled as he rose contentedly from his cramped tent, stretching his limbs.
He mulled over the day’s agenda in his mind: first, he would consult with the village chief about important matters, discussing how to deal with the coming oppression; afterward, he would help the strong, hardworking farmers with some chores to express his gratitude for their support.
Just as he was about to step out, a sudden flicker of jet-black caught his eye.
At the edge of the sky, the black-feathered bird was flying straight toward him. When he spotted the letter tied to its leg, the captain’s expression changed from surprise to joy.
“This night… Could it be… Ashan?”
He hurried forward and reached out to catch the bird, removing the sealed letter from its leg.
“What’s up, Captain? Talking to yourself so early in the morning?” A teammate who had woken early scratched his back as he walked over, eyeing the captain up and down.
“Ashan! It’s Ashan! He’s still alive,” the captain exclaimed, nearly incoherent with excitement as he hastily unfolded the letter.
“When he was still at the base, we were really close! But when the flyer incident got out, those Blood Clan freaks wiped out all the ones distributing them, and I thought Ashan had been caught too.”
“I thought he was dead, never expected he’d survive—and even send us a message! Ashan’s amazing!”
“Message?” The questioner was thoroughly confused. “But how did he know we were here? We traveled a long way when we escaped.”
“Well, that’s something you wouldn’t know.”
The captain glanced at him, pulling out a pendant from his collar—on it was the insignia of the Black-Feathered group.
“See this? It’s a Black-Feathered treasure, only one internal messenger per person. As long as you carry this, no matter how far you run, the Night Bird will always find your location and deliver messages to you.”
“When the Black-Feathered group still existed, this was their secret. Ashan only entrusted it to me because he believed in me.”
Seeing the other’s amazement, the teammate leaned in to have a look, exclaiming, “When did you get something this awesome!”
“Of course it’s rare. Back in the day, the Wali Yedan, backed by the whole nation, trained the mysterious Black-Feathered organization with genuine shamans—just to fight against the Blood Clan of Ansels.”
Whenever he talked about the past, the captain would always go on at length.
“Now the Black-Feathered group is gone, but the things they left behind—those Blood Clan of Ansels are still searching for them. Ah, I might’ve said too much. Let’s not talk about this now.”
“Let’s hold a quick meeting today and see what information Ashan has brought us.”
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