[Jake's POV]
The Imperial Mountain was silent in a way Macau never was.
We walked along a path of smooth river stones. Each step made a soft _clack_. On both sides: perfectly manicured zen gardens. Raked white sand. Twisted pines that looked a hundred years old. The air was cool and damp. It smelled like wet stone, sandalwood incense, and something sweet I couldn't name.
The mist hung low between the pines. Lantern light barely touched the path. Every sound felt muffled, absorbed by wood and stone and centuries of silence.
We crossed an arched wooden bridge. Below us, a koi pond. Black water. The fish moved like shadows under the surface, slow and deliberate. Lanterns hung from the eaves, casting a low orange light that didn't reach far.
Every fifty feet, another pair of Imperial Guards.
