The bell's thin note chased them up the sky-bridge.
By the time Rat, Wei Yun, and Steward Ruo reached the lower terraces, the sound had settled into stone. Disciples were already filing into the Outer Hall, blue robes moving like a current. The wind came down the steps and carried the smell of pine, sweat, and ink.
"Assembly," Ruo said. "Keep your mouths closed and your eyes open."
"Both at once," Rat muttered. "I am a professional."
They slipped into the back of the crowd. Instructor Zhen stood on the dais with two other stewards and a stone-faced elder Rat had not seen before. This elder wore a plain gray robe without ornament, which meant he had more authority than anyone who needed to prove it. Beside him, a staff rested against the rail. Dark wood. Old polish.
"Outer Sect," Zhen called, and the hall quieted as if someone had put a lid on a pot. "We lost a cache on Rooted Stone borderland. We recovered part of it."
Steward Ruo stepped forward and placed a wrapped bundle at her feet. Boar meat and spines, a strip of armored hide, and the crate lid from the boundary stone box. The oilcloth from within was missing. Rat did not need to look to feel the absence.
"The lacquer tube was gone," Zhen said. "Taken by a hand that smelled of pine resin."
A murmur moved through the hall. Rooted Stone was not a curse here. It was a neighbor no one liked to share a fence with.
The gray-robed elder lifted his chin. "Two matters. First, you will remember border etiquette. We do not fight for rocks. We fight for breath. Second, the tube's contents must be returned to the sect. It holds a map that does not belong to Rooted Stone. It barely belongs to us."
Rat felt the coin at his sash warm in agreement.
Jin Tao stood three rows up with half his hair pulled into a knot that wanted applause. He raised a hand as if volunteering for compliments. "Esteemed Elder, I will retrieve it."
"Will you," Rat said under his breath.
The elder's gaze slid across faces until it found Ruo. "You know their paths."
"Yes, Elder," Ruo said.
"You will pick three," the elder continued. "Fast feet. Good lungs. No glory hunters."
Jin Tao smiled like he had not heard that last line. Instructor Zhen did hear it. Her eyes did something small and dangerous.
"Before you select," she said, "two points of account."
She gestured, and a steward dragged out a flat ring of stone the size of a cart wheel. The surface was smooth. Old runes murmured around its edge. Rat recognized the feel of it. Practice circle. The kind that remembered blood.
"First," Zhen said, "Rooted Stone juniors attempted a tithe. Our initiates declined. Good. Second, a complaint arrived before the bell. A messenger claims an Open Sky candidate assaulted Rooted on public ground."
Jin Tao's smile widened. "I witnessed an initiate behaving like a broom with opinions."
A few snickers rattled. Rat held his staff like it was a very patient friend.
Zhen's gaze moved once. "We settle it now. Stone Circle. Two minutes. Nonlethal. Winner keeps opinions. Loser keeps teeth if they can."
Jin Tao stepped forward as if he had been called to accept a ribbon. "Gladly."
Rat started toward the back exit. Ruo's hand appeared in front of his chest without looking like it had moved. That was an order in the shape of a small gesture. Rat sighed and stepped into the circle.
"I want to register for the no teeth option," he said.
Zhen's expression did not change. "Begin."
Jin Tao bounced on his toes and drew a short wooden sword with iron caps at the guard. A training blade. Quick, vicious, perfect for humiliation. He pointed it at Rat's chest. "I remember you from the cliff. Mouth like a cracked jar."
Rat rolled his wrist and let the staff spin once, slow. "And you have a face like a door I do not plan to knock on."
The first exchange was quick. Jin Tao came in fast, feet light, blade flicking for Rat's fingers. Rat pulled his hand back and slid the staff in a shallow V that carried the blade past, then touched Jin Tao's ribs with the butt. A tap that meant hello, not good night.
Jin Tao's mouth tightened. "Lucky."
Rat smiled. He did not say what the Codex whispered.
[Opponent pattern: high tempo. Prefers feints to right, draw cut to wrist.]
Jin Tao changed angle, lowered his shoulder, and came in hotter. The training blade flickered. Rat's staff was longer. He used that. He let Jin Tao come to him, deflected without chasing, and sent small pulses down the wood that made each block a sting. He kept his feet under him and his ribs behind his elbows. Instructor Zhen had beaten that truth into him until his bones signed a confession.
Jin Tao snarled and switched to a low sweep, ankle height. The blow was meant to make Rat hop. Rat did not hop. He stepped over the sweep, slid the staff down with a gentle kiss that drained momentum, and let his own stick fall with a short, mean drop on Jin Tao's forearm.
A crisp sound cracked the ring. Jin Tao's fingers jolted on the hilt. The blade wobbled and came back before it fell. He recovered well. He also flinched. Rat filed that for later.
"Smile less," Rat advised. "Your teeth are worse than mine."
Jin Tao cut for the wrist again, faster. He had a trick. Rat saw it the same moment the Codex dropped a cold line.
[Hidden weight at hilt. Centripetal shift. Trajectory change late.]
The blade seemed to miss, then curved in a sickle and kissed the skin under Rat's thumb. Sharp, not deep. Rat's hand went numb for a heartbeat.
Jin Tao surged, blade turning to a stab for the belly that would fold anyone who ate it. Rat's body moved before his mouth did. He angled his core, let the stab slide along cloth, and brought the short end of the staff up under the guard, not to block, but to lift. The blade skated. Jin Tao's wrist rose. Rat returned the favor with a compact Horizon Flow strike that traveled three inches and hurt like a small hammer. It met the soft place just above the hip.
Air left Jin Tao in a hard snort. He staggered, eyes surprised at the existence of pain.
"Minute," Zhen called.
The crowd breathed as one, which meant they had been holding it. Rat's hands stung. He cursed himself for the numb grip and let the ache tell him where to put his fingers.
Jin Tao's smile came back crooked. "You think you are fast."
"I think I am home on a circle that wants rent," Rat said.
Jin Tao stopped playing. He pressed. He did not spring in now. He drifted, small steps, eyes on Rat's shoulders, waiting for a tell. Rat gave him none. He did not chase the blade. He hunted for the body that carried it. He let Jin Tao's cheap hilt trick tick once more so he could feel its weight shift, then he stuck his staff under the curve and rode it down into the floor.
Wood pinged against stone. Sparks kissed the ring. Jin Tao tried to roll the force off. Rat did not allow it. Reversal Instinct clicked. The pressure that should have driven Rat back came around like a borrowed coin. He poured it back in a tidy line.
Jin Tao's boot slid half a foot. Rat followed with a shoulder fake that said I am going left, then went right and rapped the same bruised spot above the hip. Not hard. Right. Jin Tao's knee dipped. His guard lowered the smallest amount. Rat could have cracked his jaw. He did not.
Instead, he hooked the back of Jin Tao's blade with the staff and flipped it up. The sword left his hand and jumped into air like a fish that had rethought water. Rat caught the blade against his staff and let it drop outside the circle.
"Time," Zhen said.
The ring erupted. Some laughter, some anger, some relief. Rat felt the urge to bow like a civilized person and chose not to. He wiped his thumb on his sleeve and stepped back.
Jin Tao tried to laugh it off. The sound did not know how. His eyes found Rat's coin as if his own eyes were coins wanting friends.
"Lucky," he muttered again.
Rat leaned closer as he passed. "It is luck when I win and skill when you do. I like your definitions."
Instructor Zhen raised a hand and the sound again stopped obeying itself. "Account settled. Back to business."
The gray-robed elder nodded once without praise. "Steward Ruo, your three."
Ruo did not hesitate. "Wei Yun." A nod. "Rat." Another. Then Ruo's eyes lifted toward the back where a quiet girl stood with a bow unstrung across her back. "Song Min."