Wanxiao knelt, her fingers closing over the polished onyx. Qingluo kept weeping, shoulders shaking. Instead of smoothing her robes, Wanxiao tapped the pommel of her side blade, mind tallying the missing timber ledgers and cracked conduit stones. Internal sabotage explained the delays far better than bad luck. "Wanxiao?" Qingluo murmured, red-rimmed eyes lifting. "Are you hurt? You look stiff." Wanxiao tucked the slip of stone into her cuff with an even smile. "Jun Liyuan swings that broadsword without checking his backdrop. Did this drop from your hem? It resembles an aviary crest." Qingluo flinched toward Wanxiao's sleeve, then smoothed her expression into sheepish grief. "A family bauble. My grandmother gave it to me before I entered the gates." She drew her sleeves across her chest. "The wind here bites." "Come along, then," Wanxiao said, hauling her upright by the forearm. "Ten masonry carts arrive before sundown." An amber flare tore open the gray cloud cover overhead. A brass chime echoed off the cliffside, rattling loose gravel along the ridge. Across the courtyard, five dozen recruited sword-masters dropped their chisels. From the descending glare stepped a man in dark robes embroidered with a solar raven. He dropped ten paces away, boots kicking up chalk dust as he surveyed the shattered archways. "Lin Wanxiao," the emissary announced, voice booming through throat-qi. "I am Renzu of the Sun-Bird Clan. The High Tribunal opens the midterm audit of this territory today." He Lianjue dropped a stack of six granite pillars; they split against the terrace stones. Jun Liyuan gripped his hilt, mortar powder flying from his knuckles. "Audit? We hold charter over these peaks!" Renzu curled his lip. "Your mountain ranks among the fallen. Broken ground conduits, vanished treasuries, and a main hall reduced to firewood. Seven days remain. Present a completed pavilion, balanced channel junctions, and a registered guardian warrior, or the surrounding peaks absorb every foot of this soil under alliance statute." Seven days. That required three shifts of stonemasons per day and eighty extra bags of slaked lime. Wanxiao turned toward He Lianjue, whose broad shoulders trembled with dark miasma. Free muscle. "The terms are clear," Wanxiao said. "For guardian, register He Lianjue of the Shadowfang Peaks. He carries stone quickly and repels inspectors." He Lianjue stepped forward, dark cloak snapping as his chin rose. "To claim me before the world, little phoenix..." He tilted his head, teeth showing in a fierce grin. "Your sanctuary shall be my fortress. Together we write this decree in blood." He seemed entirely persuaded they had just finalized an ancient marital pact rather than site security. Wanxiao nodded toward the fallen pillars. "Splendid. Haul those fragments to the terrace foundation. Young Master Jin, bring up sixty glazed roofing slates. Qingluo, draft an inventory of our cedar stocks before sundown." Qingluo bowed her head, lips pressed thin. "Right away." Over the next four days, Wanxiao marked plumb lines, checked mortar ratios, and directed teams through the southern tunnels while He Lianjue stood guard, glaring broodingly at every laborer who offered her a water skin. On the fifth evening, Wanxiao slipped through the western grove under a noise-dampening ward, tracking a faint trace of fire-qi toward the cliffside. Behind a cluster of ironwoods stood Qingluo, facing Renzu. Wanxiao stepped behind a trunk, screening her aura. "—the ledgers are scattered," Qingluo said, tone clipped and dry. "Original timber bills remain burned. The silver routed away from the foundation vaults cannot be traced back to your clan." Renzu sneered. "Good. Two days remain. When the inspectors condemn the site, your transfer to our Inner Court is signed." Accusing Qingluo immediately would halt the mortar mixers and tie up every laborer in factional cross-examinations. The deadline allowed no procedural delays. Wanxiao crept back along the ridge. First came the roofbeams, the conduit patches, and the inspector's seal. Retribution required an operational headquarters. An hour later, Wanxiao stepped into the kitchen pavilion, where Qingluo sat drying tea leaves. "You should sleep," Qingluo said gently. "The mortar crews are complaining of fatigue." "They have another tier of brickwork before dawn," Wanxiao said, setting a clean basin on the table. "After the inspectors certify our grounds, we shall conduct an exhaustive audit of our storehouses. Down to the last copper coin." Qingluo paused, dried stems poised above the kettle. "An audit? The older scrolls crumbled during the raid. Reconstructing them takes months." "Then we shall cross-reference the quarry manifests against the foundation stones," Wanxiao said evenly, folding her hands inside her sleeves. "Every single discrepancy accounted for." Qingluo's knuckles blanched around the kettle ladle. Wanxiao offered her a pleasant, placid nod, already mentally drafting forty pages of ledger subpoenas to drop upon her desk the moment the official banner was raised.

The Mid-Point Annexation