Dawn was only just breaking; the streets of Muyun Town had yet to stir.
In the little courtyard of Willow Lane, Qingshui crouched by the doorway splashing her face. The water was icy, clearing away the clutter in her head.
"Cold as hell!" she hissed, wringing out the cloth. She glanced up at the pale sky, then at the shut door behind her.
"They'll be up soon," she murmured.
Sure enough, a moment later the hinges creaked. Bihua stepped out with bedding in her arms, pausing when she saw Qingshui.
"You're up this early?"
Qingshui rose, shaking droplets from her hair with a lazy grin.
"Heading out."
"Shopping?" Bihua asked absently as she strung the sheet.
"Mm. You could say that." Her answer was evasive. "I'll be gone a few days—have to check a village farther out."
Bihua frowned. "So far? For what?"
"Relax, nothing dangerous." Qingshui tilted her head, then grew uncharacteristically serious.
"Listen. Don't wander. Don't trust anyone who comes sniffing around. The town looks calm on the surface, but gods know what's swimming under it."
Bihua studied her, then nodded once. "We'll be careful."
Just then Layne shuffled out, tugging at his belt, hair sticking up, still half-asleep. His eyes widened.
"Auntie, you're leaving?"
"Back in a few days." She ruffled his hair. "Keep training, mind your mother. I'll be checking when I return."
She winked at Bihua. "If he slacks off, there's a bamboo stick in my room. Use it."
"Hmph." Layne pouted. "If you're gone, no one'll eat the leftovers."
"You two can just cook less!" Qingshui burst out laughing.
She swung her pack over her shoulder and strode out into the slanting morning light.
At the gate, an old cart was waiting. She climbed aboard; the wheels creaked into motion. The archway of Muyun shrank behind her. A map took shape in her mind.
Ximu Village—the northernmost under Muyun's jurisdiction, practically another prefecture already…
The ward-stone there is masked by a shrine, incense burning day and night.
Her lips curved.
"Let's hope this one's clean."
—
Ximu Village lay against hills and water, damp and lush. After a day's ride, dusk had fallen by the time she arrived.
At the entrance stood a weathered stele: Blessings of the God, Protection for the People. Before it, an incense altar blackened by centuries of smoke.
From afar the shrine roof gleamed, incense curling—strangely more vigorous than the town's main temple.
Qingshui stepped down, stretching her senses. The earth-vein here… intact. Not only intact—thrumming with vitality.
"…No damage? If anything, overflowing."
She eyed the throngs at the shrine. Too many eyes. Best wait till night.
A gaggle of children ran past chanting, "Blessings of the God, all will be well—"
Villagers greeted her with smiles, bowing too uniformly, their faces stiff, ritualistic.
Before she could linger, a stooped crone shuffled close.
"You here to offer incense, girl?"
Her patched robe, her wrinkled smile—yet her eyes were dead water.
"Just passing through," Qingshui said lightly.
"Then don't wander after dark," the old woman warned softly. "The god patrols at night. Best not to cross paths."
A bird startled overhead. Qingshui flinched. This place reeked of wrongness.
—
Night deepened. Donning black, she slipped from her lodging toward the shrine.
Moonlight silvered the steps. The incense still burned, unending, as though it never diminished.
"This isn't worship," she muttered. "It's siphoning the earth-vein. No wonder it looked so lush by day—the lifeblood is leaking out!"
Her ears pricked. Someone approaching. She held her breath, sprang to the roof, and melted into shadow.
Clouds veiled the moon. Five figures came—hooded, cloaked in black. Two strode straight into the shrine.
"…Three days more," croaked the hunchbacked one, "and the vein will bleed dry. Then with the rite we'll wrench the ward-stone's last qi. Even if it doesn't shatter, the kingdom's leylines will collapse."
Qingshui's eyes narrowed. That voice—that gait… the old crone from earlier?
The tallest man turned to a massive cloaked figure. The giant crouched, pressing stone-thick hands to the ground. Ripples pulsed outward; incense roared higher.
"Drawing the earth-vein… to fortify himself and warp the land. That's… Earth-Yao's secret art—'Gathering Qi, Splitting Soil'! Shit—so Earth-Yao has infiltrators too!"
Her heart jolted. She readied to slip away—only to brush a tile.
Crack.
Soft, but to these men? Loud as thunder.
Blades flashed. A dagger stabbed up through the roof.
"Who's there!"
Qingshui rolled across the tiles, barely dodging. She landed in a crouch, twin short blades now in hand, eyes icy.
"Ask others' names only after you give your own." Her grin was sharp. "Earth-Yao dogs, stooping to this filth?"
Her tongue couldn't resist.
"Look at you lot—tall, short, fat, and bent like a kettle. What are you, the 'Four Cripples Troupe' come to rehearse?"
The crone spat curses, but the tall one chuckled, drawing back his hood.
"Quarreling is for children." His eyes fixed on her. "Xuanqi flow—water alignment. You're Yao of Water, aren't you? Only two women in your branch: Kan or Li. Judging by that mouth, you're Li."
His tone was calm, but cold as steel.
"You really think, after what you've seen tonight, you'll leave here alive?"