Chapter 10

The Veins of Tianzhou

The Black Sand District faded behind them, replaced by the dense, towering structure of Tianzhou's Middle Ward. Here, stone buildings leaned close together over narrow cobble streets, blocking out the sky and creating a permanent twilight.

Ming Xian walked with his shoulder pressed close to the damp stone walls, his straw hat drawn low. Inside his inner cloak, the iron-bound scroll felt heavy against his ribs.

"The suppression field is getting stronger," Baihua whispered, drifting near his shoulder. Her spectral figure flickered slightly, like a candle flame caught in a subtle draught. "I can feel the city's ley-lines vibrating underfoot. It feels like heavy iron pressing down on my spiritual form."

"Song's array isn't just suppressing cultivation," Ming Xian observed, his dark eyes scanning the rooftops above. "It's siphoning it. Every breath a cultivator takes in this city feeds a tiny fraction of their inner Qi into the central network."

He turned sharp right into a narrow alleyway where rain barrels lined the walls, catching the runoff from the high wooden eaves above. He pulled out Elder Lu's scroll, unrolling the thick parchment against a brick surface.

The map was an intricate web of red ink lines superimposed over the layout of Tianzhou. Four distinct ley-line conduits converged from the cardinal points of the city, meeting directly at the base of the Imperial Clock Tower in the central plaza.

"Elder Lu said the main node is beneath the clock tower," Baihua said, pointing her pale finger toward the central red circle on the parchment. "But look at the pressure distributions. The central node can't hold that much violent Qi without four secondary stabilization seals."

Ming Xian studied the diagram closely, his sharp intellect analyzing the tactical layout. "The four corner gates. The Grand Elder installed dampening anchors at the North, South, East, and West gates to prevent the array from imploding."

"Which means if we break just one anchor," Baihua smiled coldly, her green eyes flashing with newfound interest, "the entire suppression field backfires on the tower."

"And forces Grand Elder Song to reveal himself," Ming Xian added.

Before they could plan their approach toward the Southern Anchor, the faint sound of iron-shod boots echoed from the main street. A squad of eight Righteous Sword Sect enforcers stepped into the entrance of the alley, wearing grey robes overlaid with heavy bronze plate armor.

Each guard held a bronze mirror that glowed with a faint crimson light—a Qi-Sensing Divination Mirror.

"In the alley!" the lead enforcer shouted, pointing his blade toward Ming Xian. "The mirror picked up high-density spirit energy!"

Ming Xian didn't flinch or retreat. He rolled up the scroll with his right hand, tucking it away, while his left hand seamlessly unsheathed his notched hunting knife.

"Baihua," Ming Xian said calmly. "Cover the perimeter. Don't let any of them sound the alarm flare."

"With pleasure," she replied softly.

Before the enforcers could form their tactical sword-array, Baihua's form expanded into a sudden flurry of razor-sharp pine needles woven from frozen spiritual Qi. The icy needles burst outward in a silent storm, pinning the rear guards to the stone walls and freezing their alarm flares solid before they could pull the ignition cords.

The lead enforcer panicked, bringing his broadsword down in a heavy, overhead chop aimed at Ming Xian's chest.

Ming Xian stepped inside the guard's reach, ducking under the heavy blade. He slammed the heel of his palm into the enforcer's throat, shattering his airway, and swung his notched knife in a clean, horizontal arc.

SLASH!

The blade cut clean through the leather straps of the enforcer's bronze chestplate, slicing through the vital meridian line beneath his collarbone. The lead guard collapsed without making a sound.

The remaining three guards attempted to fall back, but Ming Xian moved like a shadow through the narrow space. His movements were cold, precise, and devoid of any wasted effort. In three rapid strikes—a blade thrust to the heart, a side-kick to the knee joint, and a quick throat slit—the alley was quiet once more.

Ming Xian stood amidst the fallen guards, wiping his knife against the sleeve of the lead enforcer.

He picked up one of the bronze divination mirrors from the ground. Its surface was cracked, but the inner array matrix was still glowing faint red, pulsing in rhythm with the giant clock tower in the distance.

BONG... BONG... BONG...

The massive bronze bell of the Imperial Clock Tower echoed across the roofs of Tianzhou, its low rumble vibrating deep within the ground beneath their feet. With every strike of the bell, a subtle wave of spirit-suppressing energy washed over the city.

Ming Xian looked toward the spire rising above the mist in the distance.

"The clock is ticking," Ming Xian said, his voice flat and unyielding. "Let's go break his anchor."