By noon the next day, rumor moved through the outer sect like ants over sugar: the new boy in gray had made Tang Yurou smile. The golden-threaded youth from yesterday—Li Cangfeng—appeared at Qin Mo's plot with two friends and a smile that mirrored a knife.
"Junior Brother," Li said, voice dripping honey. "I've found your mistake. Your token isn't fake. It's simply expired."
He produced a jade slip. On it, the assignment registry glowed with Qin Mo's name and a red mark that wasn't there before. Forgery woven with the sect's own sigil. Beautiful work. Dirty hands.
"Rules are rules," Li said, spreading his hands. "But I'm not without mercy. Kneel, apologize, and you can keep half your harvest."
Behind him, Tang Yurou strolled up with a clay cup of tea she didn't offer to anyone but herself. "Half?" she said. "That's generous. For a thief."
Li's eyes flashed. "Mind your alchemy, little broth-mixer."
Tang Yurou sipped theatrically. "Mind your forgery, big fraudster."
Qin Mo stepped between them, neither rushed nor slow. "Senior Brother Li," he said, meeting the other youth's gaze. "Let's not trouble the elders. We can settle this with the sect's rules."
Li's smile returned. "Ah. A duel? You think you can beat me? You can't even afford to eat."
Qin Mo shook his head. "An array contest. Three arrays: warding, healing, and gathering. Simple. Public. Elders watch. Winner keeps the plot and the loser's assignment token."
Li hesitated. He was a fighter, not a crafter. But reputation pinned him to the yes. "Fine. Tomorrow at dawn. Try not to run."
When they left, Tang Yurou made a low whistle. "Array work? That's bold."
Qin Mo knelt and drew a circle in the dirt. "I do not like kneeling," he said, and placed seven pebbles. "Except to plant."
She watched his hands. "That's a warding array."
"Low-tier," he said. "Adequate to repel pests and petty greed."
She laughed. "Petty greed is a high-tier pest."
He smiled, a small thing that felt new in his mouth. "Then we will learn higher arrays."
After she left, Qin Mo stared at the crooked willow. Beneath it, under his ward, the egg pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He leaned his back against the tree and closed his eyes.
Inside, the Myriad-Dao Wheel turned once—just once—and around him, the world shifted its weight as if to listen.