The camp slept under a bruised red sky.
Ash from the burned grain wagons still hung faintly in the air, but inside Duke Lian's tent, the light of a single lamp burned steady.
Stacks of sealed scrolls lay before him — ledgers, signatures, coded letters — proof of everything.
The name Chen Wei appeared again and again, stamped beside forged seals and false deliveries.
Each mark was a nail in the coffin of Lady Chen's uncle, the man whose greed had bled the Empire's borders dry.
General Han Yi stood beside the table, silent but watchful.
"You have enough evidence to bury a dynasty," he said finally.
Duke Lian tied the scrolls together with red silk. "Then let us bury one snake first."
He handed a smaller bundle to his most trusted guard, a scarred man named Shen.
"You will ride ahead," the Duke said. "Deliver this to His Majesty's hands only. No ministers, no guards, no one in between. You ride through the night. Do not stop until dawn."
