The earthy smell of the post station cellar mixed with the scent of medicinal dregs hung in the air like a soaked quilt pressing down on the chest. The moment Yue Tingzhou’s fingertips touched Narisu’s wrist pulse, the throbbing beneath the skin made his jaw tighten—frozen as if cast in cement. The pulse pattern was not poison. It was a curse. “‘Lockheart patterns’ are carved on Frost Falcon’s arrowheads.” He withdrew his hand, the lingering sensation on his fingertips cold and clammy, like touching the scales of a dead fish. “This isn’t a pursuit to kill. It’s a mark. Xie Wuchen wants him alive.” There was only one oil lamp in the cellar, its flame pressed low by the breaths of those present. Shadows flickered on the earthen walls, making them seem to draw closer. Zhu Hanli crouched on the other side of the straw mat, her silver abacus overturned on her knees, the beads unmoved. Staring at Narisu’s purplish lips, her voice was kept unnervingly steady. “Can the Earth Vein Purple Ganoderma help?” “It can buy three days.” Yue Tingzhou turned towards the shadows in the corner. “Physician Lu?” Lu Jianwei pulled a scroll of parchment from the bottom layer of her medicine chest, the dry crackle echoing as she unfurled it. Without looking at Yue Tingzhou, her fingertip pointed to a mountain-shaped mark in the center of the parchment. “Thirty li west of Wangxiang Post, the shaded side of Broken Dragon Cliff. But that’s on the edge of the Weeping Blood Valley’s forbidden grounds. It was only last year that the Qingcheng Sect claimed it as private property.” “The Qingcheng Sect…” A single bead on Zhu Hanli’s abacus finally clicked as she slid it back in reverse. “Qi Zhaoye escorted a batch of the Qingcheng Sect’s ‘tribute for the sect’ last month, using the Canal Alliance’s ships. The ledger recorded it as ‘ore,’ but the transport fee was forty percent higher than usual.” Yue Tingzhou’s teacup rotated three times in his palm. The crude pottery had a chip on the rim, pressing into the pad of his thumb. “Evidence.” He set the cup down, the chip facing outward. “If Qi Zhaoye has a covert agreement with the Qingcheng Sect, the Canal Alliance must have copies of Broken Dragon Cliff’s guard rotation schedules and the timings for disabling and activating the restrictions. Narisu was hit by Frost Falcon’s arrow, but the arrow’s trajectory came from the northwest—Huo Qingya’s men are still searching south of the city. That arrow was loosed by another group.” “A feint to lure the tiger from the mountain?” Lu Jianwei raised her eyes. “It’s a quality inspection.” Yue Tingzhou stood up. The cellar’s low ceiling forced him to bow his head slightly. “Xie Wuchen is testing whether we will voluntarily jump into the second cage he’s prepared, just to save one person. Broken Dragon Cliff has the Purple Ganoderma, and it also has an ambush.” The oil lamp’s flame gave a sudden jump. Zhu Hanli also stood, the abacus sliding into her sleeve. “Then let him inspect.” Yue Tingzhou looked at her. There was no flush of rashness on her face, only the calm of a guard verifying a route. “He wants to see if we dare to take a risk for one person. We’ll let him see. But what he’ll see isn’t us jumping into the cage—it’s us dismantling the cage.” “Does Mistress Li have a brilliant plan?” “Qi Zhaoye loves keeping accounts.” Zhu Hanli walked to the cellar’s only wooden shelf, piled with the post station’s old ledgers. She pulled one out, her fingertip tracing the yellowed pages. “The Canal Alliance’s ‘private property’ accounts and its ‘public accounts’ always differ by three *li*. These three *li* aren’t embezzlement; they’re ‘risk premiums’—when he transports things that can’t see the light for others, he keeps a secret ledger to protect himself.” She flipped to a certain page and stopped. The edge of the page bore extremely faint ink dots, arranged in an irregular triangle. Yue Tingzhou leaned closer, his nose catching the sour smell of aged ink mixed with the mustiness of paper. “This is the Canal Alliance’s secret cargo marking code.” Zhu Hanli’s fingernail lightly tapped the ink dots. “Three years ago, I escorted a batch of ‘forbidden weapons.’ The recipient was a Qingcheng Sect outer sect steward. The escort banner back "Xie Wuchen gave two options: either charge Duanlong Cliff now to seize the Purple Ganoderma, running straight into the heavy ambush before the Hour of Xu; or wait until after the Hour of Xu, when the guard shift change will have a gap of only a quarter-hour. But that batch of guards taking over the shift—" He paused briefly. "—are Huo Qingya's personal soldiers, temporarily transferred from the Frost Falcon Guard and disguised as Qingcheng Sect disciples." Zhu Hanli's breath hitched for a moment. Lu Jianwei slowly rolled up the parchment, her movements as gentle as if she were dressing a wound. "In other words, before the Hour of Xu is a death trap. After the Hour of Xu is an even worse death trap." "No," Yue Tingzhou said. "At the exact moment of the shift change at Xu hour, both batches of guards will be on the cliff, but neither side will have fully taken over defense duties yet. Passwords, restriction tokens, patrol routes—there will be a period of chaotic confusion lasting about thirty breaths." "Thirty breaths..." Zhu Hanli calculated. "From the foot of the cliff to the shaded side where the Purple Ganoderma grows, even at full speed using qinggong, it would take at least fifty breaths. That's not even counting the time to harvest the herb and retreat." "So we need someone to create even greater chaos." Yue Tingzhou's gaze fell on Lu Jianwei's face. "Physician Lu, you said earlier that Xie Wuchen assigned you to monitor me long-term. Among the permissions he gave you, was there any temporary token that could mobilize the 'Traveling Physician Pulse Inspection Points' near the relay station?" Lu Jianwei's fingers curled slightly. She reached into her robe and pulled out an iron token, only the size of a copper coin, its edges worn smooth. The token's surface was engraved with entwining vine patterns, with a dull jade bead embedded at its center. "The 'Vine Token' of the Operations Department's External Affairs Inspector," she said softly. "With this token, one can urgently requisition medicinal supplies and personnel from three Pulse Inspection Points. But each use leaves a record, which goes directly to Xie Wuchen's desk." "Use it," Yue Tingzhou said, taking the iron token. The jade bead felt cool to the touch, but there was a faint vibration inside, like the heartbeat of a living creature. "Two quarters before the Hour of Xu, take this token to the nearest Pulse Inspection Point to the west. Claim you've discovered a 'large-scale epidemic qi leak' and demand all traveling physicians and village heads immediately rush to the base of Duanlong Cliff to establish a quarantine zone." Lu Jianwei's pupils contracted. "That would draw over a hundred people! Once Xie Wuchen finds out it's a false alarm—" "He won't find out," Yue Tingzhou cut her off. "Because the epidemic qi will be real." He took out a flat jade case from his robe and opened it. Inside, lined with deep purple velvet, lay a section of dried root, its surface cracked, oozing a dark red, blood-like sap. "A remnant root of the 'Heart-Rot Vine' from Bloodweep Valley," he said. "I stole it from the Evidence Repository of the Department of Discipline and Law. The smoke it emits when burned can cause Qi Refining stage cultivators' meridians to stagnate and induce high fever hallucinations. The symptoms are no different from miasma plague. But the medicinal effect only lasts half an hour and doesn't harm one's foundation." Zhu Hanli stared at the root section. "You plan to use this to create chaos and take advantage of the confusion to ascend the mountain?" "The chaos is cover," Yue Tingzhou said, closing the jade case. "The real goal is to make Qi Zhaoye show himself—the Banner Commander of the Canal Alliance would never allow a scandal like an 'epidemic qi leak' to occur in his jurisdiction, which would undermine shipping trust. He will definitely come in person to suppress it. And when he appears..." He looked at Zhu Hanli. She continued, "When he appears, I will have the evidence of his secret ledgers—proof that he privately transported Qingcheng Sect's forbidden weapons and falsified public accounts. He will either cooperate or face ruin." "Cooperate on what?" "Cooperate in moving that batch of 'Qingcheng Sect disciples'—that is, Huo Qingya's personal soldiers—taking over the shift at Xu hour away from Duanlong Cliff for half a quarter-hour." Zhu Hanli said. "The Canal Alliance controls waterways, but the verification of overland checkpoint documents has always been jointly managed by the Qingcheng Sect and the Department of Discipline and Law. If Qi Zhaoye applies to temporarily transfer cliff guards to assist in river blockade on the grounds of ' Yue Tingzhou’s jawline tightened. He turned the teacup three times, then set it down gently. The base tapped against the wooden board with a crisp *tap*. “When.” That was all he asked. “Seven years ago,” Lu Jianwei said. “When I entered the bureau, you were still in the archives of the Department of Discipline and Law, transcribing old cases. Chief Inspector Xie said that the children of the Yue family had the steadiest temperaments and observed rules most strictly, making them the ‘optimal observation sample.’ He wanted me to see how you would choose.” Zhu Hanli’s fingers, inside her sleeve, pinched a bead on her silver abacus. She flicked it backward, then flicked it forward again. She didn’t look at Lu Jianwei, only stared at the patch of shadow in the cellar corner where water was seeping through. “So,” Zhu Hanli’s voice was flat, her southern accent almost inaudible, “you followed us all the way, watching. Watching us investigate the Vale of Weeping Blood, watching us burn the False Mother scrolls, watching Shamashi…” She didn’t finish. Lu Jianwei’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I watched,” she admitted. “My task was to record the response patterns to ‘uncontrolled variables’ and assess the potential threat level of the ‘folk pulse-illumination network.’ According to procedure, I should have reported the coordinates, along with Narisu’s injury condition, before you arrived at Wangxiang Post.” “You didn’t report it,” Yue Tingzhou said. “I delayed the report by three hours,” Lu Jianwei corrected him, her tone carrying a hint of almost pedantic precision. “This violates Article Seventeen of the *Field Inspection Regulations*. By law, the punishment is thirty lashes and a one-year reduction in salary.” The cellar fell silent for a moment. Only the distant, muffled thuds of post soldiers moving wooden crates and the mournful whistle of wind scraping over roof tiles could be heard. Yue Tingzhou suddenly asked, “Why did you delay?” Lu Jianwei raised her eyes. The light from the cellar’s single small window slanted across her face. One half was in the light, pale as paper; the other half was in shadow, her expression unreadable. “Because before my mother died,” she said slowly, each word seeming forced from between her teeth, “I knelt at the door of the clinic, begging the sect’s pulse-illumination master to intervene. He spoke through the crack in the door, saying, ‘The pestilential qi has penetrated too deeply; she cannot be saved.’ He said the quota was full, the next available slot was in half a year. He said, ‘Those are the rules.’” She paused. “I kept the rules for seven years. I transcribed pulse records, I identified poison principles, I screened ‘high-matching samples’ according to the *Book of Heavenly Mandate* algorithm. I told myself, this is order. This is to reduce pointless clashes in the jianghu. This is the ‘greater picture.’” Her fingers emerged from her sleeve again. This time they didn’t tremble; they were just clenched tightly, nails digging into her palms. “But there is no ‘greater picture’ here,” she said, looking toward the depths of the cellar, in the direction of the straw pallet where Narisu lay, her voice very low. “Here, there is only a messenger from the northern wastes, shot by the Frost Falcon Guard, his heart meridian nearly severed. Here, there are only a group of village itinerant doctors who can’t even prepare the most basic ‘Pulse-Clearing Powder,’ yet dare to stake the reputation of their own apothecary to reconnect a ley line that has been withered for thirty years.” She turned her gaze back, fixing it on Yue Tingzhou. “Lord Yue, you ask me why I delayed the report.” She tugged at the corner of her mouth; it wasn’t a smile, more like a wound splitting open. “Because I did a calculation. According to the current algorithm of the *Book of Heavenly Mandate*, Narisu’s ‘jianghu contribution score’ is less than three hundred, his ‘spiritual pulse aptitude’ is rated ‘D-Low.’ In the priority sequence for emergency medical resources, he ranks below one thousand seven hundred and forty-three others. If I reported the coordinates, Huo Qingya’s black-armored troops could seal off the post within half an hour. At that point, the survival probability of everyone inside the post—including those seven itinerant doctors, the two post soldiers, and you two ‘wanted fugitives of the highest order’—would drop below five percent.” She took a breath, her chest rising and falling slightly. “And if I delay the report by “This is a ‘Wind-Catching Talisman’,” she said. “During the three hours I delayed my report, I used it to intercept three messages between Huo Qingya and Chief Enforcer Xie. The first: the Black Armor Corps has divided into three routes converging on Wangxiang Post, with the main force led personally by Huo Qingya. They expect to complete the outer encirclement before midnight. The second: Chief Enforcer Xie has obtained temporary authorization from the Council of Ten Thousand Gates to employ ‘Severed Meridian Needles’ against ‘priority fugitives on the reverse list’ and ‘accomplices’—those needles, once injected, are not fatal, but they permanently lock the target’s meridians, reducing them to an ordinary mortal forever.” She paused, her fingertips rubbing the edge of the jade piece. “The third,” her voice grew even softer, “is a secret order from Chief Enforcer Xie to Huo Qingya. The original text read: ‘Yue Tingzhou may be captured alive. His golden core is on the verge of shattering; if brought back, it could be refined into raw material for a ‘Law Seal.’ The calamity mark on Zhu Hanli’s wrist has already deeply resonated with the original scroll. She must be taken alive. When extracting the calamity mark, ensure her consciousness remains clear. This is a key sample for verifying the harvesting efficiency of the ‘Mandate of Heaven Marriage Covenant.’’ The temperature in the cellar seemed to plummet ten degrees in an instant. The faint blue pattern on Zhu Hanli’s wrist grew warm beneath her sleeve. She didn’t move, only looked at Lu Jianwei. “You show me this,” Zhu Hanli said. “What do you want?” “I want you to succeed.” Lu Jianwei’s tone was as calm as if she were describing a pulse reading. “I want you to reconnect the earth veins, to establish the first node of the civilian vein illumination network. I want you to walk out of Wangxiang Post alive, carrying the original scroll, to go to the next place and establish another node.” She took half a step forward, the light fully illuminating her face. That face, always tinged with weariness and detachment, now held a clarity that was almost cruel. “I’m not leaving with you. I will stay behind and, as per the original plan, ‘report’ to Huo Qingya—I will say that Yue Tingzhou is gravely wounded and dying, that your attempt to forcibly reconnect the earth veins has already failed, that Narisu has succumbed to poison and died, and that the itinerant physicians suffered severe backlash. I will guide the Black Armor Corps to search the post’s abandoned stables and the false cellar entrance, buying you at least one hour.” Yue Tingzhou finally spoke. “After one hour, Huo Qingya will discover you’ve lied.” “He will.” Lu Jianwei nodded. “At that time, I will become the ‘rogue patrol envoy,’ detained and sent back to the Mandate of Heaven Bureau for interrogation. Given Chief Enforcer Xie’s temperament, he will personally interrogate me. And I,” the corner of her mouth twitched again, “I will recite the contents of these three intercepted messages word for word in front of him. I will tell him that his meticulously designed ‘order,’ the ‘algorithm’ he uses to screen, mark, and harvest, the ‘costs’ and ‘efficiencies’ he sees as calculable—there was a transcription officer who, using the rules he taught, calculated a different sum. And then, she chose the other side.” She looked at Yue Tingzhou, her gaze sharp as a needle. “Lord Yue, you asked what I want. This is what I want.” She spoke each word deliberately. “I want Xie Wuchen to remember how the most inconspicuous pawn in his ‘order’ used his own rules to stab him in the back. I want him, every time he simulates ‘humanity’s game’ in the future, to have to factor in the variable named ‘Lu Jianwei’—even if that variable will be a corpse by tomorrow.” Dead silence filled the cellar. A dull thud echoed from afar, like the heavy wooden door of the post slamming shut. Then came the sound of hoofbeats, approaching from a distance, scattering again, like a net being drawn tight. Time was running out. Yue Tingzhou stood up. He walked to Lu Jianwei and extended his hand. Not for a handshake, but palm upward, making a gesture used within the Bureau of Harmony and Law for handing over evidence. Lu Jianwei placed the ‘Wind-Catching Talisman’ in his palm. The jade piece was cool to the touch, the thread of silver light inside trembling faintly, like a living thing. “Evidence received,” Yue Tingzhou said, his voice low "The potency of the Earth Vein Purple Fungus," she whispered, "can last at most another two quarters of an hour. The itinerant physicians are already setting up the formation in the backyard, using the original mother scroll as the formation eye. But they lack a 'vein-guiding' person—the earth vein has been withered for too long. Someone needs to use their own meridians as a bridge to forcibly draw the first wisp of vital energy over. This person will be counter-impacted by the residual death energy in the earth vein. At best, their meridians will be damaged; at worst..." She didn't finish. Yue Tingzhou knew the consequences. If meridians are tainted by death energy, it's like tree roots rotting; the path of cultivation is essentially severed from then on. More likely, at the moment of guiding the vein, one would be torn apart by the two immense forces. "I'll go," he said. "Your Golden Core is already..." Zhu Hanli's voice caught. "Precisely because it's about to shatter," Yue Tingzhou cut her off, his tone calm as if analyzing a case file, "the spiritual power released when the core shatters is actually the most effective at breaking through the earth vein's blockage. This is the optimal solution." Zhu Hanli stared at him. Her eyes were startlingly bright in the dim light, like tempered glass. "Is there no other 'solution'?" she asked. "There is," Yue Tingzhou said. "The calamity pattern on your wrist resonates most deeply with the mother scroll. If you go to guide the vein, the success rate is thirty percent higher than mine. But Xie Wuchen wants to capture you alive to extract the calamity pattern. If your meridians are completely destroyed, to him, you become a 'waste sample.' He would kill you on the spot. As for me, he still needs my Golden Core to refine the 'Law Seal.' Even if I'm crippled, he'll keep me alive." He paused. "So, calculating by 'number of survivors to preserve,' if I go, both of us may live. If you go, you will certainly die; I might live. This calculation isn't difficult." Zhu Hanli's lips pressed into a pale line. She didn't argue, just took the small silver abacus from her bosom, her fingers flying over the beads. No sound, only the faint tactile sensation of beads colliding. After a few breaths, she stopped. "You're right," she said, lifting her head, her gaze complex. "By the calculation, it should be you." She put the abacus away, then suddenly reached out and grabbed Yue Tingzhou's wrist. Her grip was strong, her nails almost digging into his flesh. "But Yue Tingzhou," she stared into his eyes, her southern accent returning, light yet fierce, "you remember this—you promised to accompany me to the end, to see with your own eyes the signboard of the Wan Mirror Escort Agency hung up again. You promised to stand alive on the public deliberation platform and smash Xie Wuchen's 'algorithm' to pieces. These... are not 'calculations.'" She released his wrist and turned toward the cellar exit. "Two quarters of an hour," she said without looking back. "I'll go to the backyard to oversee the formation setup. You... prepare to shatter your core." Her footsteps faded on the stairs. Only Yue Tingzhou and Lu Jianwei remained in the cellar. Lu Jianwei had already packed her medicine chest and was wiping her fingers with a damp cloth—there was a small stain from handling the medicines earlier. She wiped meticulously, over and over, until the skin turned red. "She's right," Lu Jianwei suddenly spoke, not looking up. "Some things can't be calculated by the numbers alone." Yue Tingzhou didn't reply. He walked to the cellar's small window and peered out through the crack. The sky had darkened; the distant mountain ridges looked like the backs of giant beasts. From the direction of the station's backyard, a faint, hazy glow rose—the talisman papers ignited by the itinerant physicians. One quarter of an hour left. He closed his eyes, turning his vision inward to his dantian. The originally round, brilliant Golden Core was now covered in spiderweb cracks, its light dim as a candle flame in the wind. Spiritual power surged chaotically within, like a trapped beast. Shattering the core. He remembered his master Shen Lichuan's words: "Tingzhou, the Golden Core is a cultivator's second life. Once shattered, there's no going back. From then on, you'll be a mere mortal, with a lifespan not exceeding a hundred years, plagued by illness and pain. Even the most ordinary martial artist could easily take your life." He also remembered seven years ago, that rainy night. He knelt in the Heng Lüsi office, "If I fail at shattering my core to guide the veins," Yue Tingzhou said, "the deathly energy of the earth veins will surge back, affecting everyone within the range of the backyard formation, including Zhu Hanli and those itinerant doctors. When that time comes, please use this." He retrieved an extremely small copper tube from his inner pocket, only the length of a finger. Its surface was densely engraved with runes, with a dark red protrusion at the top. Lu Jianwei's pupils contracted. "Heng Lüsi's 'Line-Ender Decree'? You actually kept this?" "A life-saving token my master gave me back then." Yue Tingzhou handed the tube over. "Detonating it can instantly drain all spiritual energy within a radius of ten zhang, creating a brief 'Spiritless Domain.' The deathly energy of the earth veins is also a form of spiritual energy and will be forcibly severed. The price is that all cultivators within the domain will suffer permanent atrophy of their meridians, forever cut off from the Great Dao." He paused. "But they will live." Lu Jianwei took the copper tube. The copper was icy cold, the runes digging into her palm. She clenched her fist. "I will act according to the situation," she said. Yue Tingzhou nodded and said no more. He turned and walked towards the cellar exit, his steps steady. Just before he set foot on the stairs, Lu Jianwei suddenly called out to him. "Yue Tingzhou." He looked back. Lu Jianwei stood in the shadows, her face indistinct, only her voice reaching him, soft, yet clear. "The day my mother died, it was dusk like this too," she said. "Light came through the window cracks, half bright, half dark. I kept thinking, why must there be 'rules' in this world, dividing people into 'worth saving' and 'not worth saving.' Later, I joined the Bureau of Heavenly Mandate. I thought I understood—rules are for efficiency, for the greater good, to reduce chaos." She paused. "But now I think, I may never have truly understood." There was a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in her voice. "So, go. Go reconnect the earth veins, go raise that 'node.' Then, see for me, see what the world outside the rules... truly looks like." Yue Tingzhou looked at her, for a long time. Then, without a word, he turned and stepped onto the stairs. The cellar door closed behind him, cutting off the last sliver of light. Lu Jianwei stood where she was, listening as his footsteps faded away, merging with the faint, chaotic murmur of incantations drifting from the backyard of the relay station. She lowered her head and looked at the cold "Line-Ender Decree" in her hand. On the copper tube's surface, in the absolute darkness, a faint, barely perceptible streak of bloody light flowed. Like a closed eye, slowly opening. (End of Chapter Thirty-Three) Yue Tingzhou turned and strode into the restricted area of the backyard. The true essence within him had already begun to flow in reverse; each step of the dangerous technique of shattering his core to guide the veins was tearing his meridians apart. Deep in the cellar, Lu Jianwei's knuckles gripped the icy jade token of the "Line-Ender Decree," her palm sweating—once this decree was unleashed, the spiritual veins inside and outside the relay station would be destroyed. It was a rescue, yet also mutual destruction. And outside the relay station, black armor surged like a tide. Huo Qingya stood at the forefront of the formation, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The hour of midnight approached.