As the Liu clan mobilized their forces in preparation for the journey to come, discontent rippled through its ranks like a hidden current beneath calm waters.

Many of the members were not pleased by the abrupt order to build a formation that would spirit them to some unknown corner of the world. Their ancestors had laid roots beneath Crescent Moon's shining towers; to abandon it felt like carving flesh from bone.

Men whispered in corridors, women wept over family altars, and even the youngest disciples looked upon their masters with questioning eyes. Yet the clang of hammers and the glow of forge-fires did not falter or dim, their discipline held where faith wavered.

Liu Feng, standing upon the balcony of the ancestral wing, looked out across the compound where banners fluttered and laborers swarmed. He, too, felt the unease in his chest. Crescent Moon was his cradle, his father's grave, and his grandfather's glory.

To tear it from beneath his feet was a wound his heart could scarcely bear. Still, the winds of fate did not bend for mortal nostalgia. "The reed that refuses the storm is the first to break," he murmured.

Below, Ning Xue crossed the courtyard with steady steps. Her robes, white with silver trim, caught the sun's pale gleam as she moved from group to group, issuing orders, soothing quarrels.

Every bow and salute she received carried a trace of fear and reverence. The authority Li Wei had left her sat heavy upon her shoulders; without his reputation and the awe it commanded, the Liu might have splintered already.

Jia Lin walked beside her, vigilant and unsmiling. Where Ning Xue spoke with reason, Jia Lin's presence enforced it with quiet threat. The guards under her command obeyed like trained hawks, circling the compound walls in ceaseless patrol.

"Too many tongues wag tonight," Jia Lin muttered, eyes sweeping the rooftops. "Another hour of gossip and they'll start calling the array a funeral pyre."

Ning Xue's lips curved faintly. "Let them. Even the cicada complains before shedding its shell."

Jia Lin gave a short laugh, though unease lingered behind her mirth. "I would prefer a little less philosophy and a few more swords."

"You and every general who ever lost sleep before a war," Ning Xue said, and turned her gaze toward the study wing. "Come. Mei Yu should have finished compiling the archives by now .The inner courtyard smelled of ink and parchment. Scrolls were stacked like miniature towers across the polished floor, and candles guttered low in bronze holders.

Amid the chaos sat Mei Yu, the smallest of the three women, her hair tied in a loose knot, brush poised between slender fingers. Though only nineteen, her mind moved with the precision of an abacus. For hours she had pored over a century of clan records—treaties, trade manifests, genealogies—determined to preserve every thread of the Liu lineage before their departure.

The scribes assigned to assist her could only gape. They had first dismissed her as a naïve girl whom Li Wei had favored out of pity; now they watched her transcribe ten scrolls to their one, never once pausing to rest her hand.

"Scholar Mei," one whispered, bowing low, "forgive our blindness. We see now why Master Li called you 'the memory of a hundred lanterns.'" Mei Yu did not look up. "Flattery dulls the ink," she said softly. "Save your breath for copying." Yet a trace of color rose in her cheeks.

When Ning Xue and Jia Lin entered, the young woman rose and bowed. "The historical logs will be sealed by dawn," she reported. "I've included the family tablets and the records of every outer disciple. If Crescent Moon City burns, its story will not vanish with it."

"You've done well," Ning Xue said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "When we reach our new ground, these will be the roots we plant anew." Before Mei Yu could reply, a soft knock came from the outer door. Jia Lin's instincts flared—her hand went to the hilt of her sword. "At this hour?"

The knock came again, quieter, deliberate. She slid the door aside—then froze.

A figure stood framed in moonlight, garments torn, face spattered with blood that was not her own. Her eyes, sharp and cold as Imperial steel, glimmered beneath disheveled hair.

"Leng Yue," Jia Lin breathed, half in relief, half in dread. The woman stepped in without ceremony, sandals leaving faint crimson prints on the polished floor. Behind her, the night wind carried the iron tang of murder.

Mei Yu gasped and nearly dropped her brush, but Ning Xue raised a calming hand. "Steady," she murmured. Leng Yue's voice was low, almost detached. "Your sentries are blind. I passed twelve assassins circling this compound. They will not trouble you further."

Jia Lin's stomach turned cold. "You—killed them all?"

"They came to kill you. The balance is fair." She brushed a smear of blood from her sleeve as though it were dust. "You've grown careless."

Ning Xue met her gaze evenly. "We thank you for the warning—and the cleanup."

Leng Yue's eyes flicked toward the stacks of scrolls. "Preparations proceed?"

"They do," Ning Xue replied. "But the people grow restless. Every order I give feels like a stone added to their chests."

Leng Yue stripped off her outer robe, revealing lean muscle scored by fresh cuts. "Let them complain. Fear is a rope—they will hold tighter to it than to courage."

Her tone carried no malice, only weary pragmatism. She crossed to the water basin and began washing the blood from her hands. "How long until the array is functional?"

"Two days if fortune favors us," Mei Yu said. "Three if the spirit stones arrive late."

Leng Yue's reflection in the water wavered. "Then we have less time than either. The Wu Clan's riders were less than half a day behind me. By dawn they'll reach the city gates."

The room went still.

Jia Lin swore under her breath. "They move faster than we thought."

Ning Xue's mind raced. "Then we accelerate construction. I'll double the shifts."

Leng Yue dried her hands on a towel, unhurried despite the urgency. "You'll need to do more than work faster. The rival clans have spies in your ranks—I found two wearing your insignia among the dead outside."

Ning Xue's expression darkened. "Do you know their origin?"

"The Teng Clan. But their tongues were cut before I could ask whose coin bought them."

A silence fell thick as frost. At last Ning Xue spoke. "Then tonight, we trust only those who have shed blood for the clan. Everyone else is to be confined to the outer quarters until we depart."

Leng Yue nodded. "Good. Paranoia, when earned, becomes wisdom." By the time the moon reached its peak, the inner compound thrummed with renewed activity. Disciples hauled crates of spirit stones under torchlight; artisans carved channels into the stone courtyard, their chisels sparking with each strike.

The nascent teleportation array sprawled like a web of glowing veins, faint runes pulsing in rhythm with the earth's breath. At its center stood Ning Xue, Mei Yu, and Jia Lin, each directing their portion of the work. Leng Yue, freshly bathed and dressed in darker garb, perched on a rooftop above, eyes scanning the perimeter.

"Master Li always said destiny was a tide," Jia Lin muttered as she passed Ning Xue holding a fresh bundle of talismans. "If that's true, this tide is trying to drown us."

"Then let us learn to swim," Ning Xue answered.

Beneath them, the etched glyphs flared brighter. A hum filled the air—low at first, then rising until it set teeth on edge. Mei Yu knelt, pressing her palm to the pattern. "The leyline beneath Crescent Moon is responding. I can feel it… angry, but willing."

"Good," Ning Xue said. "It will obey or it will break."

Hours later, a thin mist crept over the walls. The guards at the southern gate stiffened as shapes moved beyond the fog—silent, too many to count.

A shout rose: "Riders approaching! The Wu banner!"

Leng Yue's blade was in her hand before the echo faded. "They come sooner than dawn," she said grimly.

Jia Lin barked orders; horns sounded across the compound. Gates slammed shut, barricades rolled into place. The artisans scattered as the first flaming arrow arced over the wall and burst against a pagoda roof.

Within the courtyard, Ning Xue stood unmoving. "Continue the formation," she commanded. "No one halts unless I fall."

Mei Yu hesitated. "But if the walls—"

"—fall, we leave through the array, finished or not." Ning Xue's voice was like tempered steel. "Li Wei entrusted us with survival, not comfort."

Outside, the clash of steel erupted. Leng Yue dropped from the rooftop, cutting through the first wave of infiltrators who vaulted the wall. Her sword left no sound, only flashes of cold light. Jia Lin joined her, twin blades weaving arcs of flame. "Let them test our patience," she snarled. "They'll find it sharpened."

The compound became a maelstrom of light and shadow. Yet amid the chaos, Mei Yu's hands moved faster, drawing runes across the courtyard floor, voice whispering the incantations Li Wei had left sealed within the parchment.

"The third circuit connects!" she cried. "One more and we can trigger partial activation!"

Ning Xue's heart pounded. "Do it."

She turned, parrying a spear that nearly took her throat. The assailant wore Liu colors—but his eyes glowed with vile qi. Leng Yue's dagger found his heart a heartbeat later.

"Teng spy," she spat, yanking the blade free. "I told you they'd burrow deep."

"Remind me to thank you later," Ning Xue said through clenched teeth.

At last the final rune flared to life. The ground trembled; air distorted above the courtyard, forming a shimmering dome of light. The first wave of enemy cultivators halted, shielding their eyes.

"Now!" Mei Yu shouted. "The portal will hold for moments only!"

Liu Feng appeared at the stair, blood on his sleeve. "Everyone into the array! Protect the elders!"

The Liu clan surged inward, dragging wounded and carrying what treasures they could. Screams and prayers mingled with the roar of collapsing walls.

Ning Xue stood at the center, guiding the flow of energy with both hands raised. "Spirits of the Liu clan," she intoned, "bear witness to our retreat not as defeat, but as rebirth!"

A column of white light erupted skyward. For an instant Crescent Moon City seemed to pause, every sound drawn into the void's breath—then the courtyard exploded with radiance.

When the light faded, the compound lay empty. Only scorched sigils remained, smoking in the dawn air.

Far beyond the horizon, in a forest glade untouched by war, the same light coalesced. Figures collapsed onto soft earth—exhausted, trembling, but alive.

Ning Xue opened her eyes to the scent of pine and distant thunder. Around her, the Liu clan began to stir. She looked up at the pale sky, whispering, "Master Li… we have done as you commanded."

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