Many more years later
Mo Xiao had, over the years, developed what could only be described as an unfair advantage.
It was not his fighting ability, though that was considerable. It was not his status, though that had grown substantially as Thousand Fang expanded and his role within it solidified. It was not even his face, though that had also, irritatingly, improved with age.
It was the way he moved through a room.
Han Shān had been watching it for three days now, with as much focus as he could muster, and yet he still could not identify the mechanism.
