"Open up—inspection!"
Yanqing led a squad of Cloud Knights through the door. Inside, a handful of Disciples of Sanctus Medicus froze in the light—and were down in heartbeats. With Wei Yi's tip, the Alliance had tightened the cordon again. They'd netted more than a few infiltrators.
"The Doctor was right. They wouldn't pass up this chance," Yanqing said, glancing at the writhing, neatly hamstrung cultists. "Take them. Interrogate carefully."
"Yes, sir!"
"Go on to the tournament, Sir Yanqing—we can handle it."
"I will, later. A distracted heart loses on the stage," he said. The younger Knights glowed with admiration.
"That kid's grown," Wei Yi said from the mouth of an alley where sun and shade met. Outside: riotous color. Inside: damp, dim, another world a hundred meters away.
"Your hint paid off. We caught plenty," Feixiao said. "How did you know where to look?"
"Secret," Wei Yi teased.
"Keeping secrets from me?" she elbowed him, smiling. He countered with a look: The world runs on equivalent exchange.
Feixiao ground her teeth. She knew what he wanted in trade. He'd tried to spring a few "games" on her lately; she'd refused—so he'd pocketed the idea for leverage. Worse, he'd developed a new trick: start with low-倍率 Kaioken…and at the very end, double it without warning.
The first time, she'd needed his authority to get out of bed the next morning.
Living pressure gone, his head was full of one thing.
She did enjoy it… mostly. But still.
"Fine. But don't go overboard," she warned.
"Never against your will," he promised. Lines are lines. Cross once, and the second time comes easy.
"Speak."
"I seeded avatars throughout Luofu—every blade of grass. They're weak, but good for watching."
"That's it? What if the enemy just uproots everything?"
"Hence their fate," he said, nodding toward another alley where Yanqing was marching out another batch of prisoners.
"One of them—a mangy wolf—caught a whiff of me. He thought tearing up the plants would help. A blank page with a black dot is easy to see."
"Clever," Feixiao said—then winced as a householder's roar drifted from the alley, followed by Yanqing's flustered apologies.
"Collateral damage. Some citizens do weed habitually. We'll apologize and make amends," Wei Yi sighed.
"Teacher? General Feixiao?" Yanqing jogged over, surprised. "You shouldn't tire yourself with this, sir. Save it—you may face stronger foes."
Wei Yi clapped his shoulder. No surveillance is perfect; anyone who slipped his net was either extremely cautious or extremely strong—deep along their path. Between Marshal Hua, Feixiao, and Huang Quan, though, unless a star god descended, the Alliance's front line was terrifying.
"Whatever comes, I'll cut it down!" Yanqing declared.
"Good man," Wei Yi said—and then spotted a familiar figure in the traffic beyond. "Go rest. Have some Immortal Happy Tea—on me."
Yanqing left, and the crowd parted—revealing Yingxing.
"Bold, showing up on the Xianzhou. Not afraid of trouble?" Wei Yi grinned.
"I am trouble. And the bounty's gone," Blade said mildly, a skewer of Qiongshi fowl in hand.
"For you?" Wei Yi eyed it. "Off brand."
"Carrying it for someone."
"Ah."
Blade's hands were bare now—long-fingered, steady. Wei Yi had restored them; the curse still lingered, but his craft had returned.
"Time," Blade said, and two gunblades appeared in his hands. He tossed them to Feixiao.
She caught them, startled. "For me?"
"I've seen your weapons—and you fight. You're the Heavenly-Smite General. Stop using junk. The so-called master smiths of the Foundry Division have wasted centuries."
"Hey. Those were made by Zhumin's best," Feixiao protested.
"Zhumin…" Blade's gaze cooled. "Aside from one master, the rest are wine sacks and rice bags."
He didn't say Huaiyan's name, but Wei Yi knew exactly who he meant.
Blade turned to go.
"Where's mine?" Wei Yi called.
"You need weapons?"
"…Fair," Wei Yi conceded. If he couldn't beat something with his authorities, steel wouldn't help. And if he really couldn't win—well, that's what wives were for.
Feixiao weighed the gunblades, eyes shining. "These are at curio level. Near-indestructible. Built-in amplifiers for path-force. No more special rounds—just pour in will and fire."
"Find somewhere to test—"
"No need. My old blades are retired," she said, stroking the metal like a cat.
—
Blade returned to a street corner where Yunli bounced on her toes.
"You're late, uncle."
He held out the skewer.
"See? You're generous—way better than a certain stingy doctor who makes me pay with interest," she chirped.
"We're done," Blade said flatly. He and Yunli had met by accident: a lucky cultist had slipped a net, charged Blade, and Yunli had cut it down. Then she'd extorted a snack as "rescue fee."
"Don't be so cold. If I hadn't been there, that cultist would've been a headache. Without me, you'd have blown your cover—interrogations and paperwork," she sang.
Blade's eyes flickered. "You know me?"
"Everyone knows Blade. I prefer Yingxing. I've traded notes with smiths all over the fleets. They still speak your name. Even my father can't forget you," she said candidly.
"Disappointed now that you've met me?" he asked, mouth twisting.
"Different from the stories. But secondhand impressions are skewed. Come to my place?" she tried.
"I'm a criminal. You're a beloved granddaughter of the Seven-Heaven General. We have nothing to say," he said, turning away.
Yunli watched him go, regret in her eyes. "Self-pity," she muttered, patting the hilt of Old Iron. The blade vibrated in reply.
Back home, Huaiyan looked up from the table as she bounded in. "Heard you crossed a cultist. Hurt?"
"I'm fine! You taught me Stacked-Wave Ruler, remember? I could trade two moves with Hulei now!" she declared. "Oh—and I saved someone."
"Who?"
"A tourist. Forgot the name. He bought me a skewer," she lied gently. Blade had refused a meeting; telling Huaiyan would only ache.
"Grandpa," she said later, chin on his shoulder, "if I did something wrong one day… would you forgive me?"
"Why ask? Of course. We're family. You're a good child. If you err, it will be haste, not malice," he said.
"Would you still… want me?"
"No matter what you become, you are the girl I raised. Even if the world calls you unforgivable—how could I not worry?" he chuckled. "Now—bed. I'm tired."
At the window, moonlight spilled over a cracked jade pendant in Blade's palm—engraved with two characters: Yingxing. It had shattered once; with his hands restored, he'd tried to mend it. The fissures remained.
Some things never returned to what they were.
"I read your fate, boy, and gifted you a pendant. May it turn some misfortune aside. Come—learn from me. You may not complain. I accept no mediocrities."
The old voice whispered through his mind.
"To this day, none in the Foundry has surpassed me," Blade murmured to the moon. "Master…"
....
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