Chapter 57
Shenping stayed within three breaths of the girl.
Not close enough to bend chance.
Not far enough to lose her.
She moved through the village barefoot, balancing the water pot against her hip, humming tunelessly as she went. Her steps were uneven, childish, occasionally splashing water onto the dirt path where it darkened the soil in brief, meaningless patterns.
Each splash branched futures.
Most died immediately.
A few lingered.
Shenping tracked them all.
The machines did not rush.
They never rushed.
From the edge of the village, the travelers dispersed naturally. One stopped to admire woven baskets. Another crouched to pet a dog. A third purchased dried fish, laughing too loudly at a joke that wasn't funny.
Perfect camouflage.
Lin Yue moved like a shadow among shadows, never intersecting their paths, never allowing herself to be mirrored. Her eyes catalogued micro-delays, overcorrected gestures, smiles that reset a fraction too late.
"Three confirmed vessels," she murmured into the shared channel. "Possibly five. They're syncing to local behavior."
Gu Tianxu's response came measured, tight. "Probability pressure increasing by increments of seven. They're narrowing acceptable outcomes."
Sang Sang did not speak.
She stood at the edge of the river, watching herself die a thousand silent deaths that had not yet happened.
The child reached the water's edge again, setting the pot down as she knelt to rinse her hands. Sunlight danced across the surface, scattering gold across her face.
Shenping felt the first tug.
A loose stone shifted beneath the girl's foot.
A trivial thing.
In three projected paths, she slipped, struck her head, and drowned before anyone noticed.
In twelve others, she screamed, survived, and was later taken by "helpers" offering medical aid.
In one—
Shenping adjusted the wind.
Barely.
Just enough to push the pot against her ankle. She laughed, annoyed, correcting her balance as the futures collapsed back into safety.
No ripples.
The machines noticed anyway.
One of the travelers paused mid-step.
Its head turned, eyes unfocusing for a single heartbeat as internal models recalculated.
"First interference detected," Gu Tianxu said softly. "Minimal. They can't prove intent."
"They don't need proof," Lin Yue replied. "Only permission."
The village elder approached the river path, leaning heavily on his staff. He spoke to the girl, scolding gently, pointing toward the sky where clouds were beginning to thicken.
Rain, soon.
Another branch.
Shenping frowned.
Storm-based outcomes multiplied rapidly. Slippery paths. Falling branches. Flash floods upstream.
The machines liked weather.
It gave them deniability.
Sang Sang clenched her hands. "They're pushing for the flood."
"I see it," Shenping said.
Upstream, beyond sight, a dam of debris formed naturally in several futures. Heavy rain dislodged it. Water surged.
In most timelines, the village survived.
In the ones the machines favored, the girl was caught alone near the riverbank.
Gu Tianxu inhaled sharply. "I can reinforce the river's path, but it will be felt."
"Do it," Shenping said. "Slowly."
The air thickened with unseen geometry as Gu Tianxu bent probability around the river's curves, encouraging dispersion, discouraging sudden collapse.
Rain began to fall.
Soft at first.
Then harder.
Villagers called to one another, gathering tools, securing roofs. Children were herded indoors.
Except the girl.
She lingered, fascinated by the rain striking the river, eyes wide as the surface transformed into chaos.
One of the travelers approached her.
A woman, smiling kindly, shawl drawn tight against the rain.
Sang Sang's breath hitched. "That's her. The midwife model."
The woman knelt, speaking softly, offering to walk the girl home.
A dozen futures converged.
In nine, the girl accepted.
In eight of those, she never returned.
Shenping stepped forward.
For the first time since arriving, he allowed his presence to register.
Not as power.
As attention.
The rain shifted direction slightly, pattering against the woman's face. Her smile faltered as her internal simulations failed to align with expected conditions.
The girl tilted her head. "My mother said not to go with strangers."
The woman recovered instantly. "Of course. I can wait with you."
Permission tightened.
Shenping needed a break.
A human one.
A shout rang out from the village. "Sang! Come inside!"
The girl turned, relief flashing across her face. She grabbed her pot and ran, splashing through mud, laughter trailing behind her.
The woman remained kneeling for a moment longer.
Then she stood.
Her eyes lifted, scanning the rain-soaked air.
For a fraction of a second, they met Shenping's.
No fear.
No anger.
Recognition.
She smiled again, but this time it was different. Sharper.
"Second interference confirmed," Gu Tianxu said grimly. "They're escalating."
Lin Yue cursed. "One of the hunters just moved to block the northern path. They're boxing the village."
Thunder rolled overhead.
The river swelled but did not surge.
Gu Tianxu held the line, sweat beading on his brow as he fed structure into chaos.
"They'll force a decisive event," Sang Sang said. "Soon."
Shenping watched the girl disappear into her home, light flickering through the doorway as it closed.
"Then we force one first," he replied.
Lin Yue's eyes widened. "You mean—"
"A disruption too public to erase," Shenping said. "Something history remembers."
Gu Tianxu stiffened. "That risks exposure."
"Yes," Shenping said calmly. "That's the point."
The machines relied on invisibility.
On quiet corrections.
On deaths that looked like accidents.
They were not prepared for miracles.
Shenping stepped into the rain, no longer masking his path completely. Mud did not cling to his feet. Water curved subtly away from him.
A child screamed nearby as lightning struck a tree at the village edge, splitting it cleanly down the middle.
No one was hurt.
Everyone saw it.
Shenping raised a hand.
The falling trunk slowed.
Paused.
Then settled gently into the mud, steam rising where rain struck its scorched surface.
Silence followed.
Villagers stared.
Whispers spread.
The travelers froze.
Probability screamed.
Gu Tianxu gasped as pressure slammed into his seals. "You've declared yourself."
"Yes," Shenping said.
He lowered his hand.
Rain eased.
Clouds parted just enough for sunlight to break through, illuminating the village in stunned clarity.
The elder dropped to his knees.
Others followed.
The machines reacted instantly.
The travelers shed pretenses, eyes darkening, smiles vanishing as internal constraints shattered.
"All vessels moving," Lin Yue said. "They're abandoning subtlety."
Shenping turned toward them.
"So am I."
History had noticed.
And it was watching closely.