The gates of the inner city did not swing wide.
They parted like petals of lacquered jade, each leaf moving in silence until the cold light poured through. Qin Mo stepped across the threshold behind the Bellkeeper, boots ringing faintly on brass inlaid with frost.
The sound that followed was not for him.
Bells.
Hundreds, maybe thousands, strung high along the inner wall, swaying though no wind touched them. Their tones cascaded through the avenues, a rippling chime that carried far beyond sight.
[Environmental effect detected: Jade Bell Ward — broadcasts identity markers of all entrants; nullifies stealth for 1 hour within inner district.]
So much for entering unseen.
The streets were wide enough for six carriages abreast, lined with buildings that mixed stone and jade like veins in marble. Every surface bore script—blessings, wards, records—and the air tasted faintly of crushed pine needles and distant smoke.
People stopped to watch them pass. Some wore thick coats trimmed with white fur, others silk layered against the cold, but all carried themselves with the assurance of belonging. Eyes lingered on the Bellkeeper's silver chime-cord, slid past Yi with idle curiosity, then fixed on Qin Mo.
He recognized the weight in their gaze. Not recognition, but assessment.
The Bellkeeper led them toward a plaza dominated by a low, tiered hall of green stone. Guards stood at the base of the steps, halberds tipped with crystal that hummed faintly. Above the doors, a relief showed a crown of horns over crossed bells.
"This is where the city decides who may stay," she said without turning.
"Decides?" Yi asked.
"Or discards."
Inside, warmth wrapped them, dry and precise, as if the air itself were kept on a leash. Benches flanked a central aisle leading to a dais where five figures sat in a half-moon, robes heavy with stitched sigils. In the center, beneath a hanging bell the size of a man, sat a woman in black jade armor, helm pushed back to reveal hair the color of frost-shadow.
[Target profiled: Magistrate Yao, Warden of the Inner Gate.]
[Reputation: unknown. Threat: elevated.]
Her eyes moved over them like a measuring rod.
"The bells mark you as unbound," she said. "By right of entry, you may speak your purpose before the Council."
The Bellkeeper inclined her head. "We seek passage to the upper quarter."
Yao's gaze shifted to Qin Mo. "And you?"
He met her eyes. "I hunt a chain."
Something flickered in her expression—interest, maybe recognition—but it was gone too fast to read.
"You'll find many links in this city," she said. "Whether they bind or break is on you."
A low chime rang from somewhere in the hall. A clerk stepped forward with a scroll. "Magistrate, Azure Flame's envoy petitions the Council. They request audience within the hour."
The name struck like cold water. Qin Mo felt the weight of the black cylinder in his robe, the map sealed under wax, the dead king's blood still ghosting his grip.
Yao's eyes flicked to him again, sharper this time. "Seems your hunt may start sooner than you think."
Outside, the plaza had changed. Where before the onlookers had been casual, now the air carried a hum of attention. Word of the bells had spread. Faces in the crowd shifted, revealing watchers with too-still posture, hands near hidden blades, eyes on him instead of the hall.
[Ledger note: hostile human presence updated — Infiltrator class confirmed. Source: probable Azure Flame.]
The Bellkeeper caught his arm as they descended the steps. "You wanted to be seen," she said. "Now you are."
Qin Mo scanned the edges of the crowd, marking exits, marking threats.
"Good," he said.