Xu Qian arrived at the outer transfer yard before the steward finished calling names.
Three people were already there.
The first was a boy about his age, broad through the shoulders, tightening the strap on a travel pack. His movements were efficient rather than elegant, learned from repetition rather than instruction. He didn't look up when Xu Qian stopped a few steps away, hands working until the strap lay flat and true.
The second was a girl, also close in age, standing a little apart from the racks. Her hands rested loosely at her waist, posture straight without stiffness. She watched the ground more than the people, but her attention didn't feel absent. When someone passed too close, she shifted a fraction, already accounting for space.
The third was older.
He stood closest to the crates, robe faded at the seams, hair threaded with grey that hadn't been carefully hidden. He wasn't waiting in the way the others were. He was already working, fingers pressing the wax seals one by one, checking stamps set hours ago. He did not look up when Xu Qian arrived.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The yard filled and emptied around them. Slips were issued. Crates were moved. Orders were given and received. None of it concerned the four of them yet.
The older man finished the last seal and straightened. He exhaled once, then spoke without raising his voice.
"Four crates," he said. "Mixed load."
The steward approached with a slip already in hand. "External logistics transfer," he read. "Destination: Qingshi City registry node. One waypoint rest permitted. No substitutions."
He tapped the slip and read names.
"Deng Kai."
The boy answered with a short nod and slung the pack over his shoulder.
"Yao Jing."
The girl inclined her head. "Here."
"Cao Renyi."
The older man accepted the slip without comment, folded it carefully, and tucked it away.
The steward's eyes moved to Xu Qian last. "Xu Qian."
"I'm here," Xu Qian said.
The steward marked the ledger and walked off. He didn't tell them to be careful. The ink was warning enough.
Silence returned.
Cao Renyi glanced at Xu Qian then, steady and brief, taking in posture and breathing. He turned back to the crates.
"I've done this route before," he said. "Most of the time, it's quiet. Sometimes it isn't. We keep the seals intact and the crates moving. That's the task."
Deng Kai nodded. "What's in them?"
"Weapons. Herbs. Talismans. Whatever the sect needs moved without fuss," Cao Renyi replied. "Nothing special. That's why it's moved like this."
Yao Jing stepped closer to the second crate, fingers hovering near the seal without touching it. Xu Qian understood the gesture. Don't be the one who breaks what cannot be replaced.
They lifted the first crate together. Straps bit into palms. Wood settled against shoulders.
They set out before midday, the mountain paths giving way to the old road that cut through the lower slopes. Stone yielded to packed earth. The pressure that had pressed against Xu Qian's chest since induction eased-not enough to vanish, but enough to be felt.
Breathing came easier when no one was watching.
It didn't fix anything. His qi still leaked when he pushed too hard. But the rhythm held. He could carry weight and keep his breath from stuttering into panic.
Clouds rolled in as they descended. Mist crept low across the road. A fine rain began to fall, slicking the earth and dulling sound. Footing demanded attention, especially when the straps pulled and the crates shifted a finger-width at the wrong time.
They walked in a loose formation. Deng Kai in front. Yao Jing behind him. Xu Qian third. Cao Renyi brought up the rear. When the road narrowed, Cao Renyi adjusted spacing with a touch against a crate, shifting the order without explanation. Yao Jing mirrored the change a heartbeat later, stepping into a lane that kept hands from crossing.
The village appeared before the light failed, a poor scattering of buildings pressed close to the road as if for shelter. Roofs were patched with mismatched tiles. Smoke drifted thinly from a few chimneys. Children watched from doorways without waving, eyes tracking the crates first, then the sect marks.
This place existed because the road did.
Outside, the village kept itself quiet. A woman carried water in a cracked jar and did not spill a drop. Two boys in thin shoes followed a cart for a full street length, hoping for a coin that never came. Even the dogs stayed near doors, conserving heat. Poverty here was not dramatic. It was disciplined.
The Half~Lantern Rest sat near the center, its signboard cracked and faded, the carved lantern half-painted and half-left bare. For the village, it was above average. The door fit its frame. An iron stove warmed the common room. Travelers paid for the difference, and the village endured because of it.
The innkeeper assigned them a single room without questions. Four beds. One table. A basin that held water without leaking.
They ate downstairs. The food was filling and plain, but it had salt and enough fat to warm the body. Deng Kai ate quickly. Yao Jing ate with small, measured bites, eyes scanning the room between spoonfuls. Cao Renyi drank tea that tasted burnt and did not complain. Xu Qian listened to tired talk about fees and repairs, and to the way people spoke about cultivators as weather.
Upstairs, the room smelled of damp wood and old soap. One bed had a leg shimmed with folded paper. Another had a blanket mended so many times the original pattern was lost. Deng Kai took the bed nearest the door without comment. Yao Jing chose the far corner, where she could see the window and the floor at the same time. Cao Renyi sat at the table and loosened his fingers, rotating each joint as if the road had already started collecting payment. Xu Qian took the remaining bed and set his sword where his hand could reach it without looking.
They slept lightly. Rain tapped against the shutters through the night.
They left at first light.
Mist clung thick to the road, swallowing distance. The village fell away behind them, replaced by low hills and stone cuttings where the path narrowed. Mud gathered on the straps and made them slip.
Cao Renyi slowed them after an hour-not with a dramatic gesture, but with a small change in pace. He crouched near the drainage edge and touched the stones that guided runoff away from the road. One had been levered out of place. Fresh gouges marked where something hard had pried it loose. He followed the line where water pooled instead of running and then traced a faint path in the grass along the embankment, pressed flat in short, uneven arcs that did not match the wind.
"Keep the crates tight," he said. "No gaps."
Yao Jing shifted half a step without being told, closing a lane before it opened. Deng Kai shortened his stride. Xu Qian adjusted his grip and felt the straps bite.
The road at the bend was no wider than two men shoulder to shoulder. On one side, an embankment rose slick with wet roots. On the other, a shallow drainage ditch ran dark with runoff. If a crate tipped, it would not fall far, but it would fall hard, and the seal would split.
The interceptors emerged from the scrub in a practiced spread. Four figures, moving with economy, no banners, no shouted challenge. One circled wide, eyes fixed on the nearest crate. Another carried a hooked blade.
They wanted the cargo.
"Hold," Cao Renyi said.
The first push came hard and quiet. Not a duel. A shove into space.
"Third seal," one of them said. "Turn it."
Deng Kai stepped forward to block a grab at the lead crate, steel ringing as blades met. The interceptor slid along the block and reached again, fingers darting for the strap. Deng Kai drove him back with a shoulder, boots skidding on slick earth.
Yao Jing moved before the lane fully opened. Her blade snapped out in tight arcs-not for bodies, but for hands. A wrist recoiled. A grip broke. She stepped into the space that would have become loss and forced a reset.
Another interceptor lunged low, blade angling toward a seal. Yao Jing cut the strap cleanly before it could be severed, forcing the man to recoil empty-handed and break away.
Xu Qian shifted to the side where the road dipped. One interceptor tried to slip past him toward the third crate, using the mist as cover. Xu Qian stepped into his path and met him with the flat of the blade, redirecting the angle rather than trying to overpower it.
The interceptor twisted and shoved.
Xu Qian's heel slid in mud. For a breath, his balance vanished. He forced qi through his legs to stabilize. His meridians resisted. He pushed anyway.
"He's off balance," a voice cut in. "Pull him wide."
Pain flared along the inner channels, not from a cut but from strain. Qi leaked where it should have held, spilling into useless heat. His vision narrowed at the edges.
He stayed upright.
The interceptor lunged again-not for Xu Qian's chest, but for the strap nearest the seal. Xu Qian snapped his blade down and felt the shock travel up his arms. The effort pulled more qi than he could afford.
Behind him, a second interceptor drove into Deng Kai, trying to wedge him away from the crate. Deng Kai braced, arms locked around the strap. The interceptor slammed again. Deng Kai's boot slipped and his torso twisted at the wrong angle to keep the crate from tipping.
Wood groaned. Deng Kai made a sound that was not anger.
He did not let go.
An interceptor reached for a seal with a small knife.
Cao Renyi stepped in once.
The man went down hard, breath knocked from him, and did not rise again.
Cao Renyi did not pursue. He turned immediately and denied the next grab, blade flat and decisive.
The fight slowed. Grabs came later. Steps hesitated. The interceptors reset more often, spacing loosening as the cost climbed.
That small collapse changed the math.
"Enough," someone said. "Break."
The interceptors did not retreat because they felt mercy. They retreated because the effort had become expensive. They withdrew into the scrub, carrying one of their own between them.
No shouted promise. No threat.
They were gone, swallowed by mist and wet leaves.
Silence returned in uneven breaths.
Xu Qian forced his breathing into control. His meridians ached with the wrong kind of heat.
Deng Kai leaned heavily against a crate, one arm held tight to his side. His face had gone pale under the grime, jaw clenched. When he shifted, his breath hitched.
Yao Jing wiped her blade clean and went to the seals first. Intact. Barely. Only then did she look at Deng Kai.
Cao Renyi checked each stamp again. When he finished, he nodded once.
"Transport injuries are logged," Cao Renyi said. "The registry accounts for treatment the same way it accounts for loss."
Deng Kai adjusted his grip with his good arm and said nothing.
"We move," Cao Renyi said.
Deng Kai straightened with visible effort, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"After the crates are logged," he said.
No one argued.