The rebel camp was larger up close — twenty thousand soldiers, three thousand cultivators, and enough siege equipment to level a city. Yun Che found a concealed ridge overlooking the camp and settled in to observe.

General Feng Zhan's command tent was impossible to miss: twice the size of any other tent, guarded by four Earth Profound cultivators, with the Xiao clan's banner flying from its center pole. The general himself emerged at midday — a heavyset man in his fifties with a beard like iron filings and the gait of someone who had spent his life marching.

Beside him walked Xiao Wuji.

The Profound Handle's patriarch looked exactly as Yun Che remembered him: tall, cold, and immaculate, with the bearing of someone who considered himself above the petty concerns of lesser men. He was speaking to the general in low tones, gesturing occasionally toward the imperial capital on the distant horizon.

Yun Che's hands tightened around the rock he was holding. One Earth Profound cultivator would be a challenge. Two would be fatal. With four guards plus Xiao Wuji himself, any direct assault was suicide.

But Yun Che had not climbed this mountain to assault anyone. He had climbed it to watch, to learn, and to wait.

The first thing he learned: the camp's patrol rotation had a blind spot at the third watch, when the night shift changed and the guards overlapped in a clockwise rotation that left the southern perimeter uncovered for seven minutes.

The second thing: General Feng Zhan argued with Xiao Wuji about troop deployments, which meant the alliance between the rebel army and the Profound Handle was not as solid as it appeared.

The third thing he learned was the most important. There was a prisoner in the camp — a high-value prisoner, held in a guarded tent near the command center with more security than any cultivator warranted. And Yun Che had a suspicion he knew exactly who it was.