In the deep of night, West City has shed the hustle and bustle of the day.
Moonlight pours like water, spilling onto the checkerboard streets and alleys.
West Straight Gate and Fucheng Gate have long been shut, with only the flickering torches on the city walls illuminating the stern faces of the night guard soldiers.
The streets are deserted, with only an occasional night watchman tapping his clapper as he passes through the lanes, his hoarse voice echoing in the silence.
"The night is dry, beware of fire——"
In the area around West Four Pagoda, bustling by day, the city seems particularly chilling by night.
A few wooden stakes with hanging heads stand quietly, as if the scent of blood can still be tasted.
This is a place where the court flaunts its might; a chilling site that the pugilistic world shuns.
Many strange tales from the Capital are linked to this place.
Wang She tightened his cloak, moving swiftly across the official road outside West Straight Gate.
