The field was silent again, save for the wet sound of Rylan ripping a spatial pouch from the belt of the dead Crimson Lotus captain.
He stood up, swaying slightly. The adrenaline that had allowed him to tackle a cultivator with a mangled shoulder was fading, replaced by a cold, grinding agony. His left arm felt heavy, like it was made of lead and broken glass.
"Lyra," Rylan croaked. "Secure the drakes."
Lyra, who had rushed out from the gate with a squad of militia, looked up from a crater where a body used to be. She scanned the sky.
"They're gone, Master," Lyra said, her voice tight. "The shockwave scared them off. They flew east."
Rylan froze.
The drakes were gone. That meant they would return to their roosts. And their handlers would see empty saddles.
"They know," Rylan whispered. "The clock just sped up."
He looked at the carnage around him. Six elites dead. A reconstruction specialist dead. The refugees obliterated.
"Strip them," Rylan ordered the militia, gesturing to the broken bodies of the captain and the crawler. "Armor, weapons, tokens. Leave nothing but meat."
He turned and limped back toward the gate. He didn't wait for them. He couldn't. He needed to sit down before he fell down.
The command room was oppressive. The windows were shuttered to hide the light. On the table lay the spoils of the night: three heavy crimson spatial pouches, a curved serrated sword made of red-steel, and the captain's bone mask.
Rylan sat in his chair, his shirt off. Lena was working on his shoulder again, her hands glowing soft white. She was crying silently, her tears landing on his back, but she didn't stop knitting the muscle fibers he had torn open with his tackle.
"You are reckless," Lena whispered. "You are undoing my work faster than I can do it."
"I am buying time," Rylan grunted, taking a swig of raw spirit-alcohol to dull the pain.
Lyra stood at the table, examining the spatial pouches. She used a drop of her own blood to bypass the simple locks—a trick she had learned from the Art of Veiled Desire.
"Jackpot," Lyra muttered, dumping the contents of the first pouch.
Spirit stones spilled out. Not the dusty, low-grade chips used by village merchants, but glowing, cut gemstones. Medium-grade.
"Fifty... sixty..." Lyra counted, her hands shaking. "Rylan, there is enough Qi here to power the barrier for a month. Or to buy a position in a city sect."
She dumped the second pouch. Scrolls tumbled out. Maps. Orders.
Lyra unrolled a map. Her face went pale.
"Rylan."
He looked up, pushing Lena's hands away gently. "What?"
"This isn't a raid," Lyra said, turning the map so he could see. "It's an invasion plan."
She pointed to a red line drawn directly through Oakhaven.
"The Crimson Lotus isn't just fighting the Jade Empire. They are hunting for an 'Earth-Vein Node.' A natural convergence of spiritual ley lines."
She tapped Oakhaven.
"We are sitting on it. The Spirit Ore mine wasn't the prize. The village is. That's why the ore is here. The earth is rich because the ley line is beneath us."
Rylan stared at the map. The irony was bitter. He had taken over a backwater village to hide, only to find out he was squatting on a strategic nuclear bomb.
"Do they know we have it?" Rylan asked.
"The Seeker was tracking something," Lyra said. "If he sensed the ley line before Elara shot him..."
"Then the army coming isn't a punitive force," Rylan finished. "It's an occupation force."
He stood up, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder. He picked up the bone mask. It was cold to the touch.
"We can't defend against an invasion," Lena said, her voice trembling. "Not with a few ballistae and a barrier."
"No," Rylan agreed. "We can't."
He looked at the mask. A plan, dark and desperate, began to form in the sludge of his pain-filled mind.
"If we can't defend the prize," Rylan said softly, "we have to poison it."
Rylan descended into the dungeon again.
Senior Brother Lin was awake. He looked haggard, his eyes bloodshot. He had felt the shockwaves of the battle. He had heard the screams.
When Rylan entered, carrying the red-steel sword and the bone mask, Lin flinched.
Rylan threw the mask onto the dirty floor. It clattered to a stop at Lin's feet.
Lin stared at it. He recognized the markings.
"Crimson Lotus Elite," Lin whispered. "You... you killed an Elite?"
"I killed six," Rylan said, leaning against the doorframe. "And a Seeker."
Lin looked up, genuine terror in his eyes. "You fool. You insane fool. If you killed a Seeker, the Blood-General will come. He will skin this valley alive."
"He is coming for the Ley Line," Rylan lied smoothly. "He knows the Jade Empire left it undefended."
Lin's eyes widened. "The Ley Line? That myth? It's here?"
"It is," Rylan said. "And I am the only one standing between it and the Crimson Lotus."
He stepped closer, towering over the crippled cultivator.
"I am going to make you an offer, Lin. A chance to be a hero."
Lin laughed, a dry, cracking sound. "You want me to fight for you?"
"No," Rylan said. "I want you to run."
He tossed a small pouch onto the floor next to the mask. It contained the Crimson Lotus captain's token and a map—a fake map Rylan had drawn, marking the "Ley Line Access Point" not at Oakhaven, but at the Jade Empire's nearest outpost.
"Tomorrow," Rylan said, "I will leave the dungeon door unlocked. You will escape. You will take this mask and this token. You will run back to your masters."
"Why?" Lin asked, suspicious.
"Because you will tell them that the Crimson Lotus has secured the Ley Line at their outpost," Rylan said. "You will tell them that Rylan Sterling is dead, killed by the Crimson Lotus while trying to defend the Empire's territory."
Lin stared at him. "You want me to lie? To claim you died a martyr?"
"I want the Jade Empire to think I am gone," Rylan said coldly. "And I want them to launch a full-scale assault on the Crimson Lotus to 'reclaim' the Ley Line."
"And while they fight..." Lin realized, looking at Rylan with a mixture of horror and awe. "You disappear."
"I fade into the shadows," Rylan corrected. "And I take the real prize with me."
"They will execute me if they find out I lied," Lin whispered.
"Then be a good liar," Rylan said. "It's better than dying in this cell when the Blood-General arrives."
Rylan turned and walked out, leaving the door unlatched.
Outside, the first light of dawn was breaking. The sky was grey, the red glow of the east fading into smoke.
Mei was waiting for him by the well. She was scrubbing her hands with sand, trying to get the spiritual residue of the "Core-Breaker" charges off her skin. Her hands were raw and red.
"It doesn't come off," Mei said, her voice hollow. "I can still feel them... popping."
Rylan walked over to her. He didn't offer comfort. He took her hands in his.
"It stays," Rylan said. "That feeling? It's the weight of survival. Carry it."
Mei looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I built a horror, Master. In the Empire, we were taught that Artificers bring order. I brought chaos."
"You brought victory," Rylan said.
He released her hands.
"Pack your tools, Mei. We aren't staying."
Mei blinked. "What? But the wall... the array..."
"The wall is a distraction," Rylan said, looking at the sleeping village. "We are leaving Oakhaven. We are going to the Neutral City."
"But the villagers..."
"We take who is useful," Rylan said. "The militia. The craftsmen. The young."
"And the rest?" Mei asked, her voice trembling. " The old? The injured?"
Rylan looked at the sunrise. It was beautiful and indifferent.
"They stay," Rylan said softly. "Someone has to keep the fires burning so the enemy thinks we are still home."
End of Chapter 40