77. Leaving No Scraps

I return to the inn. Shen Qiao opens his door before I knock twice.

“Sect Leader?”

“Pack what you need. We’re leaving.”

He senses the urgency in my voice and furrows his brow.

“How much time?”

“Sunset.”

He does not ask why. That, more than anything, confirms I chose correctly.

He turns back into his quarters. As I grab my remaining belongings from my room, he waits by the door with everything he owns bundled against his chest.

“Ready?”

“Yes, Sect Leader.”

I grab him by the back of his robe and lift him onto my back.

“Hold on tight.”

He makes a strangled sound.

“Sect Leader, please carry me with dignity.”

“Dignity costs time.”

Then I run towards Wei Zheng’s shop. To his credit, he only screams once. By the time we return to Wei Zheng’s street, Shen Qiao’s face is pale and his hair is ruined. Wei Zheng’s shop looks unchanged from outside.

Han Ru remains frozen against the doorframe, eyes open, face grey with suppressed panic. Luo Min lies on the floor, bound and gagged, his breathing shallow but steady. Neither man looks visibly injured beyond bruising and frostbite around the wrists. But… they both refuse to look at Ling’er. She stands near the workbench, hands folded in front of her.

“They tried to activate the marks,” she says. “Several times. I also asked them questions.”

Han Ru closes his eyes as if praying for deliverance. Luo Min makes a small sound through the gag and then immediately stops when Ling’er glances at him. Wei Zheng has put more distance between himself and my disciple. He still looks pale.

I want to ask what she did. But I don’t; mostly because we do not have time, partially because I’m scared to know.

“What did you learn?”

“The brand triggers after a missed check-in.” Ling’er looks at Luo Min. “In four hours.”

I curse.

Sunset was too generous.

“We leave now.”

Shen Qiao’s eyes move from the agents to Ling’er to me. He does not ask what happened. He looks between me and Wei Zheng with curiosity.

The jaded craftsman finally speaks.

“What happens to me?”

His voice is rough. I turn to him, the words coming out before they’ve settled within my mind.

“Come with us.”

He does not answer immediately. Instead of the blustering refusal I half-expected, his gaze sweeps the shop. Shelves of repaired tools. Measuring cords. The cold furnace. The scarred workbench. A life narrowed into something survivable.

“My tools are here,” he says.

“Bring the ones that matter.”

His jaw tightens. “They all matter.”

The shop feels smaller than before.

“… I wanted to leave you alone after the repair,” I say. “I meant that. I did not want to drag you into cultivator trouble.”

Wei Zheng gives a humorless breath.

“And yet.”

“The next people Hollow Scale sends may not pretend to be debt collectors. Next time, they may not bother with paperwork and take you outright.”

Wei Zheng says nothing.

“I am not asking you to come because of the sword,” I say. “I am not asking you to repair anything. If you reach my sect and never touch a weapon again, then you never touch a weapon again.”

His eyes flick to mine.

“You can refuse work. You can curse at cultivators. You can fix door hinges and cooking knives for the rest of your life if that is what you choose. I will still give you a roof, food, and protection.”

The room is quiet.

“This happened because of me. Because I brought myself here. Because I kept coming back. Because I thought I could take from the city without the city noticing the people beside me. I cannot promise safety, I will not insult you with that. But I can promise you will not be alone when trouble comes.”

His jaw clenches. Then he turns away from me. At first, I think he is refusing.

Then he reaches beneath the counter and pulls out a small wooden chest, and he starts packing. Measuring cords looped and tied. A set of chisels in a leather roll. A hammer worn smooth by years of use. A small scale. A bundle of old notes. The remaining frost crystals and Frostbite are handed to me, carefully wrapped. I store them in my ring. Last, he goes to the front and removes a long, narrow box from beneath the workbench.

Wei Liang’s broken sword.

I turn to the two Hollow Scale agents.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The decision has been waiting since I saw Ling’er standing outside with Luo Min in her hand.