The road back to the Heaven's Fracture stretched beneath the fading light. The evening sun cast a pale golden-gray hue over the trees and stones along the path. Khanh and Vy walked side by side, glancing now and then at Ho Lam Uyen, who strode leisurely ahead of them with a faint smile tugging at her lips.
This time, their journey took them through a small town near the bay. The salty scent of the sea drifted on the wind, mingling with the distant crash of waves. At first glance, it was just another waystation, but the moment they entered, a heavy weight seemed to descend upon them.
As they walked, Lam Uyen slipped a sealed letter from her robe and twirled it idly between her fingers.
"Do you two know what this letter truly is?" she asked, her voice carrying a teasing lilt.
Khanh and Vy immediately turned their eyes toward her.
Her gaze was half careless, half amused, as though the matter was little more than a game.
"This is not just an ordinary piece of court correspondence. It is a message sent by nobles and officials to The Jade and Dice. The true contents… I will not reveal yet. Think of it as a trial for the two of you. If you can grasp even a fragment of the truth behind it, then perhaps you are worthy of walking further on this path."
Khanh's brows knit tightly. The weight of her words gnawed at him, both curiosity and unease simmering within. Vy tugged at her sleeve, eyes burning faintly, as though the name alone had stirred a deep disgust she could not voice.
The scene of the town soon tore their attention away. Houses stood crooked and broken, wooden beams sagging, rooftiles shattered into jagged heaps. Ragged townsfolk lined the streets, waiting for relief, yet the sacks of grain were deliberately cut thin by the officials distributing them. Husk-filled rice, unfit to eat, was dumped in piles, while the clean harvest was whisked away in silence.
At the roadside, a mother sobbed hysterically, clutching at the hem of passersby, her wails sharp as glass. She begged for her missing son, taken by officials with no word of where or why. The grief in her voice reverberated across the street like a curse.
Vy's face flushed crimson, her nails digging into her palms until blood nearly welled. Rage trembled in her shoulders, and her lips quivered with words she dared not speak aloud. Khanh too was shaken, his chest tight, but the iron shadow of imperial authority chained his feet to the ground. His heart screamed to intervene, yet his mind whispered of the blade of execution waiting for the fool who dared oppose the court.
Ho Lam Uyen walked among the broken without a change of expression. Her hand, pale and steady, rested on the wounds of the beaten. A gentle glow of spiritual force spilled from her fingertips, knitting flesh, mending bruises. Yet when she looked up again, her eyes shone with quiet sorrow.
"I can heal flesh and bone," she murmured, "but I cannot cure a society that has already decayed."
The words fell heavy, lingering long after the glow faded.
Just as the three prepared to leave the edge of town, a group of guards swaggered into their path. At their head was a bloated official clad in gaudy silks, his voice brash and oily.
"Halt! I am the servant of Lord Trinh Van Long. If you wish to pass, you'll offer tribute—gold or silver. Otherwise, this road is closed."
Khanh stiffened instantly, his jaw clenched. Vy's body shook with uncontained fury. She had endured the sight of suffering peasants, but this man—demanding bribes in broad daylight—ignited a blaze that nearly broke her restraint. Her hand already moved toward her weapon.
But Lam Uyen's hand was swifter. She stepped forward with a disarming smile, her tone smooth as flowing water.
"There is no need for anger. Tribute, is it? Then allow me."
She raised her palm. In a shimmer of frost, spiritual power condensed into a radiant coin the size of a man's fist. Its icy surface glimmered with dazzling light, the etchings upon it more intricate than any mint of the empire. She held it out lightly, as though it weighed nothing.
"Take this coin," she said calmly, her eyes sharp despite her smile. "Deliver it directly to Trinh Van Long. Tell him it comes from the House of Ho."
The official's bluster collapsed at once. His face drained pale, and his hands shook as he received the glittering coin. At the mere mention of the Ho name, he bent low, voice trembling with forced respect.
"Y-Yes… understood! I will deliver it at once!"
He stumbled back, gesturing frantically for his men to clear the road. Soon they vanished, their swagger gone, replaced by anxious haste.
The street grew quiet again. Khanh exhaled a long, shaky breath, glancing at Vy, whose rage still simmered, though her hands now trembled instead of striking. Her eyes darted to Lam Uyen, filled with both admiration and puzzlement.
Lam Uyen merely chuckled softly, brushing frost from her fingertips. "Some battles," she murmured, "are won not with blood… but with names and symbols."
And with that, she led them onward, her figure calm and untouchable against the backdrop of the setting sun.