The snowline had retreated halfway up the hills, yet icicles still hung from the eaves of Qing Shi Village.Morning wind moved through the thawing air, slicing the cold into faint threads.Ye Xuan stepped out of his courtyard, paused at the threshold, and listened.Three light taps against wood, evenly spaced — an old code.
"They've arrived."
He didn't look back."Trace yesterday's calligraphy again," he told Lin Ge, who was sweeping the yard. "Still your hand, and you still your heart."The boy obeyed, though his eyes flicked to the door. Ye Xuan lifted a hand, stopping him.
A man stood outside, a salt-seller with a wicker shoulder pole. His hat brim quivered in the wind.When he looked up, calm settled deep behind his pupils.He said quietly, "A raven cries at the third watch."
Ye Xuan answered, "And the snow stops at dawn."
The code matched.The salt-seller lifted his baskets; beneath the false bottom lay a sheet of gray paper marked by a faint silver crescent — the Raven Seal.
"Sir," the man said softly, "your seal flared thrice. Three nodes in the northern range resonated. I'm the only one who made it this far."
Ye Xuan studied him. The calluses on his palms, the archer's wear on his knuckle, the steady gait — a courier of the old net."Your name in the network?"
"Lan Qi. Former vice record-keeper, Frost Pass Node."
"Lan Qi." Ye Xuan repeated it slowly, like setting an old chess piece back on the board. "Come with me."
Behind the ancestral hall was a narrow shed. The window was sealed with lime; inside, neat and spare.Ye Xuan locked the door and drew from under the table an old wooden plaque.On one side were the words 'Listening Snow'; on the other, a grid of pinholes.
Lan Qi's eyes reddened. His voice came rough: "We thought Listening Snow was wiped out."
"They erased names," Ye Xuan said, laying the plaque on the table. "Not methods."He tapped thrice. "The old web restarts from Listening Snow. You came clean. That means your trail's clear — for now. Listen."
Lan Qi held his breath.
"First, the Night Ravens no longer build by routes, but by points.A point means an event of information, not a man's body.Second, two ledgers: the public one, the reserve mine; the shadow one, the Wind Register. You record the wind, not the faces.Third, we recruit no elders. Only fledglings — Lin Ge is the first."
Lan Qi glanced toward the outer wall, startled. "That boy?"
"Sharp eyes, steady heart," Ye Xuan said. "And he reads force, not profit."
He leaned closer, voice lowering."The Disciplinary Division of the Void Sect has already followed the contract trail here.Their next step isn't to inspect the ore — it's to trace the Raven Seal and force the net into the open."
Lan Qi blanched. "Then— the seal—"
"The seal is bait."Ye Xuan unrolled a rough map of ridges and roads, marking three red dots."I lit the seal thrice. Three echoes. You reached me; the others will draw pursuit.We move against the flow."
Lan Qi understood at once — one light, two shadows, divide and lure."Where do we send them?"
"Dongpo Ravine."Ye Xuan drew a semicircle at the valley mouth. "The fog there rises quick. The mine's already on record; we'll let the court witness the inspection."
He handed Lan Qi a folded letter."Go to the county office. Deliver this petition — politely invite two clerks to audit the accounts."
Lan Qi laughed dryly. "Invite officials?"
"What we need is procedure. Within procedure, their hands move slower."He passed another thin slip. "A debt note. Not for silver, for 'escort expenses.' When they come, recite three phrases:'Reserve mine needs manpower.''Winter roads are hard.''Escort requires funds.'At the third phrase, stop talking."
Lan Qi's grin turned sharp. "The fourth phrase — someone else will say it."
"The Void Sect themselves," Ye Xuan said, smiling faintly.
By midday, three groups arrived at Qing Shi's gate.First, two county clerks on mules, arms full of ledgers.Next, a squad of bailiffs pretending at authority.Last, a trio of Void Sect disciples — the Disciplinary pursuers, led by a man named Huo, eyes bright as blades.
Zhao Shihuai greeted them at the hall.Ye Xuan stood inside, plain-robed, the image of a local scribe.
"The reserve mine requires audit," one clerk said. "You are the principal?"
"No," Ye Xuan said evenly. "Merely the copyist. The principal is the village head."At that, Zhao Shihuai nearly bowed himself in half. The clerks relaxed — bureaucracy had its sacrifice.
Huo's gaze never left Ye Xuan.
The ledgers opened. The columns were clear, the numbers blank."Winter roads are hard," Ye Xuan said mildly. "Escorts need funding.You may grant what you wish, or grant nothing.But if the mine stands without guard, the law calls it negligence."
The clerks stiffened. Responsibility was a heavy word.
Huo set a copper ring on the table, carved with fine sigils. It hummed, sniffing for traces of power."We seek something outside your laws," he said softly.
A line of red light traced from the ring to a corner beam — where the Raven Seal had once been hidden.
The pressure in the room thickened.Huo's voice stayed pleasant. "Tell me — does the Night Raven have ties to you?"
Ye Xuan's eyes were calm. "You're asking the wrong question."He shut the ledger and turned to the clerks. "Please, fill in the numbers."And just like that, the clerks were drawn into the process.
Huo watched, then flicked his fingers.The ring's light darted toward Ye Xuan's brow — only to bend aside, half an inch off, embedding in the desk.
"The beams are damp," Ye Xuan said mildly. "Draft beneath the sill.Borrowed force."
Huo inclined his head. "A fine trick. Yet borrowed force depends on whose force you borrow."
Outside, a faint clatter sounded — small iron plates striking each other in the wind.The path from gate to hall glittered with iron sand, salted and glinting under sun.Fire and iron — a nemesis.
"Let's move," Ye Xuan said. "Dongpo Ravine. The fog there judges truth better than men."
The clerks followed the paperwork's leash; the bailiffs dared not protest; Huo smiled and went along."Very well," he said. "Lead the way."
Fog curled like white silk through the ravine.The semicircular ditch brimmed with meltwater, the air heavy with metal scent.Ye Xuan stood at the mouth, Lin Ge and the boys behind him, Zhao Shihuai and Lan Qi at the flanks.The clerks struggled down the slope; the bailiffs panted; Huo's copper ring shone bright —for the fog was full of faint echoes of the Raven Seal.
"There," Huo murmured. "The mark."
"The echo," Ye Xuan corrected.He signaled Lin Ge.
The boy slid a thin wooden tag into a crack in the stone, the single word Mist carved on it.The next instant, the ditch's water drew the wind — and the fog closed like a bowl, enveloping Huo and his men.The rest coughed outside, confused.
"Trying to trap me?" came Huo's amused voice.
"Not trap. Divide," Ye Xuan said.He bowed to the clerks. "Too much fog. Postpone the audit three days.And as regulation allows, record this as a difficult route, with escort funding at maximum."
The clerks hesitated, then nodded. "...At maximum."
That was the "fourth phrase" — spoken by the right mouths.
Inside the fog came three muffled bursts, faint flashes bending and scattering —fire needles striking mist and turning aside, pushed by salt and wind and iron.No formation — just the borrowing of mortal things.
When Huo emerged, unburned, his expression was thoughtful."You weave your tricks with paper, salt, and fog. Mortal tools."
"Mortal tools can move divine will," Ye Xuan said quietly, "especially when divine will is bound by rule."
Huo's gaze lingered. "Today's board, I admit, belongs to you.But the Division doesn't break boards. We break men."
"Then I'll see you there," Ye Xuan replied.
Huo smiled. "You dare lure me — aren't you afraid I'll find out who you are?"
Ye Xuan didn't answer. "Withdraw."
The team packed. The clerks stamped the papers, sealing "difficult route" and "maximum expense" in red.As they turned to leave, Lan Qi pressed a tiny black-silver pin beneath Huo's copper ring, the word Return etched upon it.Huo glanced down, puzzled, then looked away.
That evening, Ye Xuan rehung the Listening Snow plaque beneath the beam."Send this to the county's Local Works office," he told Lan Qi."Write only this line: 'Escort funding insufficient; reserve designation at risk.'The clerk there will understand the taste of those words."
Lan Qi nodded. "And the Division?"
"They'll come themselves." Ye Xuan handed him a folded slip."When they do, make sure their copper ring delivers this message."
Lan Qi opened it, then chuckled in disbelief.Seven characters only: 'Private trials forbidden in mortal domain.'
The line was a forgotten regulation from the empire's ministry —any sect acting within a registered reserve mine without dual approval was guilty of unauthorized justice.
"They'll ignore it," Lan Qi said softly.
"Perhaps," Ye Xuan said, "but it will slow their steps. And when their steps slow— we move two."
Outside, Lin Ge practiced the Raven Step: three beats — Light, Still, Turn.The first borrows force, the second hides form, the third takes the heart.His footprints dotted the snow in a crescent arc.
"Lan Qi, you handle the points," Ye Xuan said. "Zhao Shihuai, provisions and routes. As for Su Lin…"
He glanced toward the shadowed corner. The young fire novice stood there, head bowed."I'll do as you said," Su Lin murmured.
"You work the fire," Ye Xuan told him. "Not to burn — to signal. You borrow fire, I borrow force."He handed him the black-silver pin. "Slip this into your ring.And when it returns, carry my greeting."
"To whom?"
"Yin Wujiao."Ye Xuan's eyes gleamed like winter stars, his voice soft as wind."Tell him: The Night Ravens cry once more. The game begins again."
Outside, the wind stirred the chimes beneath the eaves — three crisp notes, clear as distant birdsong.Lan Qi straightened unconsciously, as though hearing a call across years and miles.
The Night Ravens had returned.