The sun had climbed higher in the sky by the time Li Wei departed from the merchant union. The parchment handed to him by Tang Li now rested securely in the folds of his inner robe, the weight of its contents far heavier than mere paper.
He moved with quiet strides, his steps drawing him toward the western part of town, where the sharp ringing of iron against iron echoed through narrow streets like a blacksmith's hymn.
He had no logical reason to seek the blacksmith—no prior acquaintance, no trusted words passed from a friend. It was a notion born not of logic, but instinct. In a world shaped by will and fate, allies could be found even in the hands of strangers.
