The trap was never meant to catch a person.
It was meant to catch a movement.
By the second hour past midnight, Ling An had grown unnaturally quiet. Even the distant rumble of Zhou's artillery had softened, as if the enemy wished to hear better. Smoke clung low to the streets, blurring edges and swallowing sound.
Wu An stood motionless in the shadow of a collapsed shrine, watching.
The Black Tigers were nowhere to be seen. The Golden Dragons had withdrawn from the rooftops. The command paths Liao Yun had seeded—false signal lanterns, redirected messengers, counterfeit orders—were active now, glowing faintly in the dark like exposed nerves.
Someone took the bait.
It began with a runner.
He moved too carefully, hugging walls he didn't need to, avoiding streets already abandoned. He carried a sealed message marked with Wu Jin's cipher—correct, but just slightly outdated. Enough to pass a cursory check. Enough to fool anyone who wanted to believe it.
Wu An felt the alignment inside him tighten.
Not urgency.
Certainty.
The runner turned down the wrong alley.
Steel rang once.
The man fell without a cry.
From three directions, Black Tigers emerged, blades already red. They didn't question him. They didn't search him.
They followed the path he had taken.
Liao Yun's plan unfolded quietly.
False orders led to false positions. False retreats created artificial gaps. Anyone acting on forged intelligence would be drawn into the same narrow corridors—corridors now watched from above and below.
Within minutes, two more couriers were intercepted.
Then a unit.
Not Zhou.
Ling An guards.
Their captain protested loudly, waving an order signed with Wu Jin's seal, directing them to sabotage the eastern swivel guns.
Wu Jin's seal.
Wu Jin arrived just as the captain was disarmed.
His face drained of color as he read the order.
"I never issued this," he said.
Liao Yun stepped forward calmly. "We know."
The captain went pale. "Your Majesty, I swear—"
"I believe you," Wu Jin said. "That's the problem."
The realization spread slowly through the gathered officers.
Someone was forging both sides' authority.
Not to destroy them immediately—
—but to force a choice.
The next blow came faster.
A horn sounded from the southern edge of the district.
Zhou scouts advanced—not attacking, just close enough to be seen.
At the same time, a messenger burst into the square, bloodied and panicked.
"Commander Shen Yue has been detained!" he shouted. "She was found near the western powder stores with—"
Wu An moved before the sentence finished.
He did not ask where.
He did not confirm.
He did not hesitate.
Shen Yue was surrounded by guards when he reached her—Ling An guards, not Zhou. Their weapons were raised, their faces tight with fear and certainty manufactured by planted evidence.
A satchel lay at her feet.
Inside it: powder charges, fuses, coded notes bearing Wu An's mark.
Forged.
Perfect.
Wu Jin arrived moments later.
He saw the satchel.
He saw the guards.
He saw Wu An standing between them.
The silence stretched.
This was the moment Zhou wanted.
This was the fracture.
Wu Jin's voice was tight. "An… step aside."
Wu An did not move.
The being inside him aligned violently—not with rage, but with clarity. The fastest solution presented itself instantly.
Kill the guards.
Erase witnesses.
Preserve Shen Yue.
Accept the consequences.
Wu An felt no horror at the thought.
Only efficiency.
Shen Yue looked up at him then.
Not afraid.
Just sad.
"Don't," she said softly.
Wu Jin's hand tightened on his sword.
"If you shield her," he said, "you confirm everything they want me to believe."
Wu An turned his head slowly.
"If I don't," he replied, "I lose the only thing left that anchors me."
For a heartbeat, the city seemed to lean inward.
Wu An made his choice.
He disarmed the nearest guard with a single motion—precise, nonlethal—and placed himself fully between Shen Yue and the circle of blades.
"She comes with me," he said.
The guards hesitated.
Wu Jin raised a hand.
"Let her go."
Relief rippled—but it was incomplete.
The alliance held.
Barely.
Zhou's scouts withdrew at once, as if satisfied.
They had seen enough.
Liao Yun exhaled slowly. "They wanted that moment."
"Yes," Wu Jin said. "And they learned from it."
Wu An said nothing.
He was already calculating how many such moments remained before something irrevocable broke.
Far beyond the city, the Southern King finally unfolded the next message he had been waiting for.
It bore the Emperor's seal.
Three characters were written inside.
Advance the veil.
The King closed his eyes.
Ling An had survived the test.
Now it would face the design.