Yan Luo walked forward until the banner brushed his shoulder. He took the pole, lifted, broke it across his knee. The monk's smile didn't split, but his eyes did.
"Set it down," Yan Luo told the bearers.
They looked to the monk. The monk looked at Yan Luo. Yan Luo tilted his head and lifted his right hand a finger's width. The men set the bier down as if the road had seized their knees.
Gaoyu and two others slid to the back, hands ready. "Lid," Gaoyu said.
The monk tried a last sanctimonious breath. "Defile a body, and the gods—"
"It would be best if you didn't believe in the gods," Yan Luo said. "Instead, you should believe in me and what I will do to you if you don't obey."
The lid pried up with a groan. Inside lay a small body wrapped in plain linen, face shrouded.
Gaoyu's mouth went a hard line. "If they killed him—"
"Quiet," Yan Luo said.
