Chapter One: The Dance of the Jade Dragon Scales

The biting wind cut through to the bone.

Under the overcast sky, leaden clouds churned as Luo Qing led an old camel down a mountain pass. Large, feather-like snowflakes began to fall relentlessly.

At that moment, he witnessed something strange.

Ahead, by the side of the road, a youth was digging a pit.

The boy appeared to be about fourteen or fifteen years old, slightly frail compared to his peers. He wore a greasy sheepskin jacket, and even from a distance, the thick grime around his neck was visible—he probably hadn’t bathed for two months.

Yet his strength was impressive, and his digging skill was practiced; the frozen earth felt as soft and tender as tofu beneath his hands.

In this area beyond the frontier, the sandy, rocky ground was barren after September—nothing would grow here. Even the herders avoided staying long, especially in such blizzard conditions. Digging a pit in a place like this was truly a strange act.

Luo Qing had been in good spirits. After half a year of anticipation, he had finally secured what he sought. Thinking of that soft, jade-like, snow-white body stirred a restless heat within him. Though traveling in this harsh weather was hard, the people coming to meet him were near. They brought two sheep, which, once slaughtered and boiled in snowmelt, would taste exquisite.

Yet this boy digging alone, absorbed in his task, felt like a fly suddenly landing on a pot of freshly cooked mutton soup—unwelcome and unsettling.

“Kid, what the hell are you digging for?” Luo Qing called out with ill intent, patting the hilt of the long knife hanging on his saddle.

“To bury you,” the boy stopped and looked him over. “Three Uighur coins, and I guarantee I’ll bury you well.”

Luo Qing noticed the boy’s handsome features and his accent from the Chang’an region. Yet the lad’s eyes shimmered with a faint green light.

“A child born of Tang and Hu descent—that’s interesting.”

Seeing the boy’s serious expression, he couldn’t help but laugh heartily. “You’re young, but you sure have a big mouth. Do you know who I am?”

The boy nodded slightly, smiling faintly. “Luo Qing, former infantry captain of the Mengchi Protectorate, who once led seven hundred troops to crush two thousand enemies of the Yantuo tribe. Later, you were convicted of embezzling military supplies and abusing prisoners. Three years ago, after arriving at Yumen Pass, you deserted the army and became a caravan escort. Last month, you colluded with bandits to rob your own caravan and raped the caravan leader’s wife—who happens to be your fellow townsman and friend. After the incident, you fled from Guazhou to here, repeatedly ambushed by border troops who failed to harm you, losing forty-one elite soldiers instead. From what I see, among the border troops here at Yumen Pass, no one can beat you one-on-one.”

Luo Qing frowned slowly, instinctively touching the hilt of his knife. “Kid, who exactly are you? Since you know so much about me, why dare you play tricks in front of me?”

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