As Li Wei concluded his affairs in the back-water corner of Huangjing Province, frantic discussions were already erupting within Crescent Moon City—the city that glittered by daylight and seethed by dusk. The Liu Clan's ancestral compound sat at the city's very heart like a jewel set in bronze, yet even a jewel could crack beneath enough pressure. For decades they had risen unhindered, feeding on trade routes and hidden favors; now, four rival houses backed by the Imperial Council tightened their nets.

In the great reception hall, braziers burned a clean blue flame, and the smell of sandalwood mingled with worry. The patriarch, Liu Feng, a man whose hair was more frost than ink, sat upon the jade dais, his eyes sharp as whetted steel. Around him, merchants, cultivators, and hired advisers filled the chamber's tiers, their murmurs like the hum of restless bees.

Silence came only when Pei Wong was ushered in. His robes were travel-stained, his face drawn, yet the sigil of the Councilman's house still marked his girdle. He knelt, pressing one fist to the floor.

"Patriarch Liu," he said, voice hoarse from the road, "I bring word from Master Li Wei."

Every official straightened, even the lesser elders held their breath. His name alone cut through the hall like a drawn blade.

Ning Xue stood to one side of the dais, her pale robes simple, her bearing unflinching. Since Li Wei's departure she had become the quiet axis upon which the clan turned—the disciple whom others obeyed out of both fear and respect. When Pei Wong raised his head, it was her gaze he met first.

"Speak," she said. "You have traveled through the night; let the dust on your tongue not dull the truth."

Pei Wong exhaled, recounting everything: the ambush on Li Wei, the burning warehouse that had become a den of death. He spoke of the sigils of the heavens, of corruption within the Council's inner circles, of the faint tremor that now pulsed through the leylines beneath Huangjing Province.

By the time he finished, sweat traced the lines of his jaw. None doubted his words; Li Wei's spiritual signature had left traces even an amateur could sense.

Liu Feng's fingers drummed upon the arm of his chair. "So the heavens themselves stir," he murmured. "And the hand that strikes at your master may soon strike at us."

A merchant in crimson robes—Chao Ren, head of the city's largest trade consortium—stepped forward, his lips tight. "Patriarch," he said, "forgive my bluntness, but what aid does this traveler bring? Master Li sends no soldiers, no funds—only tales of divine plots. Meanwhile our coffers run dry, our caravans barred at every gate. If his cause brings calamity to Crescent Moon, are we not fools for sheltering it?"

Some nodded, others looked away.

Ning Xue's eyes narrowed, her voice cutting through the murmurs like a frost-hardened blade. "Merchant Chao, the tongue that forgets gratitude is heavier than an ox cart. If not for Master Li's intervention three winters past, your warehouses would now bear the Shen Clan's banners. Do you call that folly?"

Color rose in the merchant's cheeks, but he bowed stiffly and said no more.

Liu Feng gave a dry chuckle. "Enough. The roots of bamboo bend but do not break—unless gnawed from within. Let us not become the rats in our own granary."

From the rear of the hall, Jia Lin and Mei Yu entered, leading Pei Wong to a seat. Both women had the look of swagger about them—short swords at their hips, Jia Lin's voice carried as she addressed the patriarch. "We have verified the traveler's account. The qi residues on his garments match the Golden Sparrow Sect's corruption. Their claws reach far."

Liu Feng inclined his head. "Then what counsel do you bring, Lady Ning?"

Ning Xue stepped forward. "Summon every branch member of the clan. What we discuss now concerns the life of us all."

A bell was struck. Servants moved swiftly; soon the main pavilion filled—elders, merchants, even outer-sect disciples crowding under the crimson banners of the Liu.

When all had gathered, Ning Xue stood before them, parchment in hand, her expression unreadable.

"You are all aware," she began, "that four clans—the Teng, Wang, Han, and Wu—have encircled us. Their imperial patrons have cut off our trade routes, blocked our caravans, and strangled our coffers. They mean to see the Liu Clan wither before the next moon."

A murmur rippled through the hall. Someone shouted, "Then what of Master Li? Has he abandoned us?"

Ning Xue's tone remained calm, but her words carried the chill of mountain snow. "Master Li moves where mortals cannot. Even now he wrestles with forces that make our feuds seem like sparrows fighting over crumbs. Doubt him if you wish—but remember: when the heavens cast lightning, only fools curse the thunder."

Liu Feng rose, his presence commanding. "Enough clamor! Speak your plan, Lady Ning."

She unfurled the parchment across the jade table. Inked upon it was a design of spiraling glyphs—a teleportation array, complex and precise.

Gasps filled the air.

"This," Ning Xue said, "is the course Master Li has decreed. We are to gather every resource remaining—spirit stones, metals, formation ink—and erect this array. When complete, it will bear us beyond the city's boundaries, to a sanctuary whose location only Master Li knows."

Whispers erupted. Chao Ren slammed his fist against the table. "Abandon the city? Do you propose we flee like beggars? Crescent Moon has been our cradle for generations!"

Liu Kan, another elder, nodded grimly. "Our enemies would seize everything we leave behind."

Ning Xue met their fury with quiet resolve. "A bird that clings to its cage will never reach the clouds. The array is not cowardice—it is preservation. We are not surrendering the city; we are out-flanking fate itself."

For a moment no one spoke. Then Liu Feng stepped down from the dais. "When the flood comes, even mountains bow their heads. If Master Li foresees danger, we shall heed him."

His authority stilled the room. Yet unease lingered.

Jia Lin leaned toward Ning Xue and whispered, "The materials alone will drain what remains of our treasury."

"Then we pay the price," Ning Xue murmured back. "Silver can be regained. Lives cannot."

As the meeting adjourned, the patriarch's advisers dispersed like shadows at dusk. Outside, the courtyard lay bathed in the red glow of evening lanterns. Ning Xue remained behind, staring at the parchment beneath the fading light. The array's sigils seemed almost to breathe.

Pei Wong approached, hesitation in every step. "Lady Ning," he said quietly, "do you truly trust this plan? You have seen what the system did to him. What if this… array leads us into the very jaws of the heavens' snare?"

Ning Xue turned her gaze to him, the reflection of firelight dancing in her eyes. "Trust is a luxury the wise seldom afford. But faith—faith is the bridge we cross when the ground crumbles. Master Li has never led us astray."

Pei Wong lowered his head. "I envy your certainty."

She allowed herself a faint smile. "Certainty is an illusion I polish each morning, lest fear dull its shine."

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of rain from the northern hills. A single drop struck the parchment, spreading ink like spilled blood. Ning Xue traced it absently. "He walks paths none of us can follow. The least we can do is keep the road behind him from collapsing."

Night deepened. In the city's outer districts, spies from the rival clans watched the Liu compound, their eyes gleaming under hoods. Already rumors whispered through taverns: the Liu prepare a forbidden rite; the Liu consort with heretics; the Liu dig their own graves.

Within the main hall, Ning Xue began assigning duties. Mei Yu and Jia Lin were to guard the southern gate; Pei Wong would oversee acquisition of the spirit stones. Blacksmiths were summoned to reshape metals; alchemists to distill essence from their dwindling stores.

By the third watch, the clang of hammers echoed through the compound. Sparks flew like captive stars as runes were etched onto steel plates. Children slept beside the furnaces; elders inscribed talismans until their hands trembled.

Liu Feng watched from the balcony above. "So much toil," he muttered, "and yet the dawn may find us ashes."

Ning Xue joined him, bowing slightly. "Patriarch, even ashes can seed the phoenix's rebirth."

He smiled wearily. "You quote your master well. Let us hope his faith in you proves justified."

Far beyond the city walls,. The first strands of the coming storm had already woven themselves through the fate of Crescent Moon City. And in the Liu compound, beneath the hum of forging and prayer, the faint resonance of the teleportation sigils answered the heavens with their own quiet defiance.

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