Recovery took a week.
Wei forbade her from any oath‑binding, cross‑world or otherwise.
"Copy," he commanded. "Only copy. Letters, not promises. Your Name‑Thread needs boring work."
She obeyed.
Mostly.
Her brush traced pages about old Name‑Binders who had tried to shackle rogue cultivators with clauses like, "You may drink qi from beasts, but not from humans," "You will not teach this art to those under twenty years," "Upon breaking, this oath will brand your tongue."
Many had died.
Some had succeeded.
Their marks lingered in the hidden layers of the world.
The System highlighted them as she read.
Legacy Oaths Detected.
– "Nine‑Ancestor Pact" (expired)
– "Blood‑Mirror Accord" (dormant)
– "Hunger's Leash v1" (broken)
– "Hunger's Leash v2" (fragmentary; location: unknown)
"Hunger's Leash…" she murmured.
Wei's head snapped up.
"Where did you see that?" he demanded.
She pointed at the line.
He squinted.
"Hmph," he said. "Old script. One of the last desperate attempts to chain that thing. They tried to write, 'Can feed only on willing offerings, not on souls below third realm.'"
"It broke," she said.
"Of course it broke," he snorted. "They tied it to a king who promptly broke his side first. Oaths are only as strong as their weakest tongue."
Her finger traced the faded clause.
"What if you re‑wrote it," she mused. "Not on him. On his debt."
Wei stared.
"Explain," he said slowly.
"Names die," she said. "Debts don't. If we call it not, 'You, hunger, may not do X,' but, 'All debt tied to this name may not be collected in Y way,' then even if one tongue fails, the owed thing still obeys some rules."
He blinked.
"Law child," he said, "you are giving me a headache."
"Good," she said. "Means the idea is sharp."
Her System hummed.
Conceptual Breakthrough: "Debt‑Chain Oath."
New Theoretical Tool: Bind not actor, but consequence bucket.
Status: Underdeveloped. Requires live test.
"Do not test that on anything important yet," Wei said quickly, as if hearing the same prompt. "Unless you want the Dao to smack you."
"How about something small," she said. "Like…library late‑fees."
He groaned.
"Fine," he said. "If it keeps sword brats from 'forgetting' manuals, maybe worth a nosebleed."
They chose an easy target.
Senior Disciple Han from Flame Peak had "borrowed" a rare sword manual three times in a row and returned it late each time with excuses.
Wei scowled over the log.
"Brats think words on shelves are decorations," he muttered.
Xiao‑lan saw an opportunity.
"Make the debt bite instead of us nagging," she suggested.
Han swaggered into the Archive later that day, manual in hand.
"Here," he said, placing it on the desk. "Only two days late this time."
"Two days late every time," Wei snapped. "Do you think words don't rot?"
Han rolled his eyes.
"They're ink on dried grass," he said. "Not fish."
"Words can rot worlds," Xiao‑lan muttered.
He snorted.
"What would you know?" he scoffed. "You can't even lift a real sword."
She smiled sweetly.
"True," she said. "But I can write sharp things."
He scoffed again.
"Sharp paper," he said. "Very scary."
"Scary enough to make you itch," she said.
[TEST: Debt‑Chain Variant]
Target: Manual Return Debt for Disciple Han.
Clause: "If manual returned later than agreed date, borrower experiences proportional discomfort (itchiness)."
Binding Substrate: Archive Record Ledger.
She didn't bind Han.
She bound the late mark that Wei was about to write in the ledger.
As Wei's brush traced his name under "late," she silently wove Oath‑Tide lines around the ink itself.
The debt got…teeth.
Han felt nothing.
Yet.
"You have three days for the next borrow," Wei said. "No more."
Han waved dismissively.
"Old man," he said, "if punishing me by scratching my name on paper made a difference, I'd be dead by now."
He left.
Three days later, he did not return.
Four days later, a distant shout echoed from Flame Peak.
"WHY AM I ITCHING?!"
Ruo burst into the Archive, wheezing with laughter.
"Senior Han is going mad!" she gasped. "He says his skin crawls every time he sees a book. He's bathed five times. No help. Wind‑elder told him, 'Maybe stop breaking promises.'"
Wei turned a very deliberate blank look on Xiao‑lan.
She coughed.
Debt‑Chain Effect:
– Recorded late debt triggered.
– Host Backlash: Mild (tickle in nose).
"Small scale seems…safe," she said.
"For now," Wei said. "Do not tie that to anything bigger until we run more tests. The last thing we need is the sect ledgers catching fire."
She grinned.
"Understood," she said.
Inside, the System noted:
Oath‑Tide Comprehension: 25%.
[Debt‑Chain Oath] – Prototype established.
Somewhere far away, the hunger felt the faintest tug on a different ledger.
Uncomfortable.
Annoying.
Who plays with my accounts? it growled.
It tasted the same Name‑Thread from the hut incident.
Licked its conceptual lips.
You think you can audit me, little knot? it sneered. We'll see whose ink runs first.