The teahouse stood unusually quiet in the final hours before their departure. The wind carried the scent of lotus and damp stone through the open courtyard, but beneath it all, an unease simmered.
Ziyan moved with calm purpose, overseeing the packing of scrolls and herbs, ensuring the last shipments were properly sealed and the staff well-compensated. She didn't speak of the tribunal, nor the men she had exposed. She gave no speeches. No farewells. Only silence and steady movement.
But Feiyan noticed the change first.
"They're watching," she said under her breath, her eyes never leaving the rooftop across the narrow street.
Lianhua followed her gaze. "How many?"
"Two that I see. Maybe more in the alley. Rotating shifts."
Shuye glanced out the kitchen door. "They're pretending to be hawkers. But they never call out. Never blink long."
Ziyan said nothing. She already knew.
From the moment she had laid the phoenix seal on the tribunal's table, she had invited attention—not just from merchants and nobles, but from those who wore no badge, who reported to no court. Those who buried secrets beneath silk and smiles.
"The longer we linger, the tighter the noose," Li Qiang muttered from the shadows of the courtyard.
Ziyan adjusted the clasp on her traveling cloak. "Then we won't linger."
It was agreed that Lianhua and Shuye would stay behind, to keep watch over the teahouse and mislead any spies who thought the group hadn't yet departed.
"We'll keep them guessing," Lianhua said with a nod. "If we vanish all at once, they'll chase you. If we appear unbothered, they might hesitate."
Shuye met Ziyan's eyes and gave a short, respectful bow. "We'll guard the flame while you carry it forward."
Ziyan touched his shoulder gently. "Thank you, both of you."
They left at dawn.
No fanfare. Just the soft creak of wagon wheels and the quiet beat of hooves against the wet road. Ziyan rode beside the cart, cloaked and hooded, eyes alert. The city gates yawned wide ahead of them, and the guards gave only a cursory glance—either bribed or ordered not to interfere.
As they passed through the archway and into the fog-touched hills beyond the capital, a strange calm settled over the road.
"Too quiet," Feiyan muttered. "Not even a whisper."
Li Qiang nodded. "Perfect ground for a strike."
They did not have to wait long.
It happened near the seventh milestone—a sharp bend in the forested road where the trees grew dense and the morning light barely pierced the canopy.
The lead horse reared with a scream, startled by something unseen. In the same breath, five men burst from the trees, dressed not as bandits but in uniform black—faces veiled, movements practiced.
One lunged for the reins. Another for Ziyan.
Steel met flesh before either could touch her.
Feiyan moved like wind through reeds, her blade flashing once, twice—two men fell before they could scream. Li Qiang struck with brutal precision, disarming one attacker and slamming his head into the earth.
The remaining two turned to flee.
Only one made it two steps.
A thrown dagger—Feiyan's—caught him through the calf, and he crumpled with a shout.
Ziyan had not drawn a weapon. She hadn't needed to.
But she dismounted, walking toward the last man still conscious, who squirmed beneath Li Qiang's boot.
"Don't kill him," she said. "Not yet."
They dragged him to a clearing just off the path.
The man refused to speak at first, even as Feiyan pressed the tip of her blade to the exposed skin above his collarbone. Sweat beaded at his brow. Blood seeped from a cut on his cheek.
"You'll answer," she said quietly, "or I'll start with one of your fingers and see how many you can count."
The man spat at the ground.
Ziyan stepped forward.
"Your silence only confirms who sent you," she said, crouching. "You're not a rogue. You're trained. Quick. Precise. You weren't sent to kill me—you were sent to capture me."
He flinched slightly. A tell.
Ziyan studied him. "You were told not to hurt me. Only to take me alive."
Feiyan's blade moved slightly, a red line blooming where it kissed the skin.
Still, he said nothing.
Until—
"She's not worth your blood," Ziyan added, rising. "The Grand Commandant will have you silenced the moment you fail. And you've already failed."
The name struck like a whip.
The man froze.
"…You don't know what you're interfering with," he whispered, finally.
Ziyan didn't blink. "Then tell me."
He swallowed. "Grand Commandant Zhao… he gave the order. Said the girl couldn't be allowed to reach Nan Shu. Said if she finds the truth, it'll be the end of the old order."
Ziyan's voice was like steel wrapped in velvet. "What truth?"
He said nothing.
Feiyan raised her blade again.
"Wait," Ziyan said. "Let him go."
Feiyan blinked. "What?"
"We know enough. If he returns wounded but alive, Zhao will know I chose mercy. That I'm not the monster they fear."
The man stared at her, half in awe, half in confusion.
Li Qiang shoved him back toward the trees. "Run. And pray we never meet again."
He fled limping, vanishing into the green like mist.
That night, the trio made camp near a narrow stream. The road to Nan Shu stretched further south, winding through ranges and valleys still unfamiliar.
But the sky above was clear, and the stars shimmered like silver dust.
Ziyan sat beside the fire, turning over the day's events in silence.
Feiyan approached, arms crossed. "You should've let me cut out his tongue."
"No," Ziyan said softly. "We needed him to speak, and to go back. Zhao thinks fear will silence me. But fear is the only reason his lies have lasted this long."
Li Qiang sat nearby, sharpening his blade. "And yet… you spared his spy."
Ziyan looked down at her palm.
The phoenix emblem glowed faintly beneath her skin—less like fire, more like memory.
"I'm not trying to become their nightmare," she whispered. "I'm trying to become something they can't erase."
Far behind them, in the Eastern Capital, a messenger knelt before a shadowed man in bronze armor, face half-lit by lantern flame.
"She escaped," the messenger reported. "They defeated the intercept team."
The Grand Commandant Zhao sat in silence, eyes fixed on the seal in his hand.
"She moves toward Nan Shu."
"Yes, my lord."
He crushed the seal between his fingers.
"Then let her come."
And the shadows grew deeper.