1. Chapter One Skylight ...

The plum blossoms in the courtyard were in full bloom, petals covering the ground, scattered over the lingering patches of unmelted snow. At first glance, it was impossible to tell where the snow ended and the blossoms began. When the wind rose, a subtle fragrance drifted through the air, flowing throughout the courtyard.

Under the curtain of dusk, the moon hung above the eaves, its light cool as water.

At the far end of the small courtyard, there was a side door half-hidden by plum blossoms, looking as if it had stood for many years. Pushing open the little door, everything inside was completely different. Two sturdy men stood at the entrance, both armored and armed. The narrow corridor was paved with large bluestone bricks, leading to a pitch-black prison cell, from which a heavy, chilling air of death and severity rushed out.

The scent of flowers seemed to be blocked on the other side of the courtyard, unable to pass through at all.

There, too, stood several guards, swords and blades at their sides, standing as still as wooden figures. At the entrance was a thick iron bar, as wide as a grown man's arm.

Passing through the dark, narrow passage of the prison cell, further inside were three massive stone doors controlled by mechanisms, each guarded by someone. Beyond these three stone doors, not a trace of human vitality could be found, as if that long, narrow path was the road of vengeful spirits to the underworld. A few flickering lights danced like ghostly flames.

In the innermost cell, a man's voice murmured something low, then fell silent for a moment, as if another person sighed softly, the sound light and insubstantial.

Suddenly, a shrill scream tore through the darkness of the cell, even making the flames flicker. The scream was piercing, like a dying animal, sending an indescribable chill through anyone who heard it.

One of the two guards standing with their backs to the cell seemed to be new, his face still bearing the innocence of youth. Startled by the noise, he shivered uncontrollably and stole a glance at his companion, only to find the other standing as straight and unmoving as a mountain, as if deaf to the sound. The youth quickly composed himself and lowered his gaze.

But the scream was so high-pitched and unending that the man’s voice broke, his throat turning hoarse, yet he did not stop. At last, his breath gave out, and the shrill cries turned into sobbing moans, sounding all the more miserable.

The new guard felt goosebumps racing across his skin.

After about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the man's voice finally faded away. Not long after, two people dragged out a middle-aged man, his state between life and death. The man was bare-chested, his head lolling to one side, hair soaked with sweat, lips and tongue bitten to shreds, blood frothing at the corners of his mouth. There were no visible wounds on his body, except for seven dark red nails driven into the seven vital points on his chest and abdomen.

It looked like a strange and terrifying totem. The young guard’s gaze involuntarily followed the middle-aged man until they disappeared beyond the stone door.

At this moment, a low voice spoke behind him: "After seeing this, do you regret it?"

The young guard jumped in fright and spun around. He saw a man in a sapphire-blue robe standing silently behind him, though he hadn’t noticed when he arrived. His companion was already kneeling on one knee. The youth quickly knelt as well, saying, "The Master."

The man in the long robe looked to be about twenty-eight or twenty-nine, refined in appearance, almost like a scholar. Yet his face was shrouded in a sickly pallor, his features sharply defined, his eyes bright and always slightly lowered, so that his long, thick lashes cast a shadow over half his face. When he occasionally looked up, there was an indescribable coldness in his gaze that sent a chill into the hearts of those who saw it. His nose was straight and handsome, but his lips were thin, giving his handsome face an air of cold indifference.

Hearing the youth’s address, the man couldn’t help but glance at him, letting out a soft laugh. "You’re new here, aren’t you?"

The youth lowered his head. "Yes."

The man raised his hand and patted him lightly on the shoulder twice. "Remember, you mustn’t call me The Master anymore. I haven’t been The Master for a long time. Next time, you should address me as Mr. Carter."

The youth looked up at him quickly, then respectfully lowered his head again. "Yes, Mr. Carter."

The man nodded and waved his hand. "You two may go. Let me have a moment of peace alone."

The two guards answered in unison and left together. The young guard couldn’t help but glance back, seeing the man in the blue robe quietly leaning against the doorframe, his eyes seemingly fixed on something in the void, or perhaps seeing nothing at all. For some reason, the youth felt as if he was about to go somewhere far, far away.

As the first iron door fell shut, the usually silent old guard suddenly spoke in a low voice: "Looking at the lord, he seems like a gentle and refined scholar. Who would have thought it was those very hands that drove the ‘Seven Orifices Three Autumn Nails’ into Old Bi?"

The youth was stunned and turned to look at his older companion. The old guard’s temples were already white. He sighed, "There’s still much you don’t understand. Our ‘Skylight’—once you’re in, there’s no getting out. To leave, you’d have to be dead or crippled."

In the fourth year of Daqing Rongjia, the name "Skylight" was already enough to strike terror throughout the entire court.