The second ridge pine wasn't a single tree.
It was a crooked line of old pines clinging to rock, trunks twisted by wind, needles sparse, roots exposed like ribs. A place teams used as a meeting mark because it was hard to mistake and easy to hide around.
Wuchen had named it because it sounded real.
Real was often enough.
Team Twelve moved fast without running, boots careful on loose stone. Qin Sui stayed behind Tu Shun, spear angled so he couldn't turn suddenly without meeting a point. Ma Qiao walked to Wuchen's left, knife low, eyes never leaving Wuchen's sleeves and belt. The freckled boy kept close to Qin Sui like a child following an older sister.
Tu Shun walked in front, shoulders broad, chin up, as if he could bully the mountain itself.
Wuchen kept his gaze down and listened.
No pursuit footsteps yet.
No thin man's voice.
Just wind and distant beast calls.
That was the problem with surviving a fight. The mountain got quiet after, as if it was waiting for you to relax.
They reached the ridge pines near dusk.
Sun Jiao wasn't there.
No pack. No boot prints fresh in the dirt. No deliberate blade marks on bark. Nothing.
Tu Shun stopped and turned slowly, smile thin. "So," he said, "where is Captain?"
Wuchen bowed his head. "This one thought he would be here," he said.
Tu Shun's eyes glittered. "Thought," he repeated. "Thought is boring."
He took one step toward Wuchen.
Qin Sui's spear lifted. "Tu Shun," she warned.
Tu Shun didn't look at her. "Stay out of it," he said. "He lied."
Ma Qiao's knife tip shifted, not fully toward Wuchen, not fully toward Tu Shun. He was weighing which body would be easier to sacrifice.
Wuchen felt the moment tipping.
So he tipped it first.
He pointed, not at Tu Shun, but past him, toward a patch of disturbed ground beneath the ridge pine roots.
"Tracks," Wuchen said quietly.
Everyone's eyes flicked.
Tu Shun scoffed. "Trying to distract—"
But Ma Qiao crouched immediately, survivor instinct overriding pride. He pressed his good hand to the dirt and sniffed.
His face tightened. "Human," he murmured. "Fresh."
Qin Sui stepped closer, eyes scanning. "Two sets," she said. "One heavier. One lighter."
Tu Shun's smile faded a fraction. "Captain?" he asked, irritation creeping in.
Wuchen didn't answer. He didn't need to.
A low whistle sounded from the rocks above.
Not a bird.
A signal.
Sun Jiao stepped out from behind a boulder, saber in hand, posture compact. Two paces behind him stood another figure: a young outer disciple with a bruised face and a bow slung across his back.
Not Team Twelve.
A borrowed extra.
Sun Jiao's eyes swept the group and stopped on Tu Shun first. "You're loud," he said.
Tu Shun's jaw clenched. "You left," he snapped.
Sun Jiao nodded once. "Yes," he said. "I left you to see what you'd do."
Tu Shun laughed sharply. "And?"
Sun Jiao's gaze was cold. "And you tried to eat the team," he said.
Tu Shun's eyes flashed. "I asked for tusks," he said. "I asked for fairness."
Sun Jiao's saber tip lifted an inch. "You asked for control," he said.
The air tightened again, but this time the shape was different.
Now Captain was present.
Now Tu Shun couldn't pretend Sun Jiao was just another outer boy.
Tu Shun's shoulders rose. "You're still outer yard," he said. "You think your saber makes you an elder?"
Sun Jiao didn't smile. "No," he said. "I think your mouth makes you dead weight."
The freckled boy flinched.
Qin Sui's eyes stayed steady, spear still angled.
Ma Qiao's knife lowered slightly. He had chosen a side without saying it.
Tu Shun stared at all of them and realized it.
The team had formed around Sun Jiao.
Tu Shun's grin returned, smaller now. "So what?" he said. "You'll kill me? Over words?"
Sun Jiao's voice stayed flat. "Over patterns," he said.
He pointed at Tu Shun's arm where the boar scrape had cut him earlier. The wound had been wrapped, but the cloth was stained. "You bled," Sun Jiao said. "You didn't let anyone clean it."
Tu Shun frowned. "So?"
Sun Jiao's eyes narrowed. "So you stink," he said. "And stinking men attract beasts."
Tu Shun's face tightened.
Sun Jiao continued, "You kicked a boy," he said. "You grabbed herbs while we fought. You tried to trade Wuchen. You asked where the tusks were."
Tu Shun opened his mouth.
Sun Jiao cut him off. "You are predictable," he said. "Predictable men are dangerous because they can be used."
Tu Shun's eyes narrowed. "Used by who?"
Sun Jiao's gaze flicked briefly to Wuchen, then back. "By anyone who