“Then let’s send people to investigate first, cast the first net into the water.”

You can’t pry open an organization with a few hands; a net that small tears.

I’m afraid it’s a loose grassroots protest outfit, scattered like fallen leaves.

Spring Tide planned to notify Ninexiao, then pull a handful of trusted eyes for a focused probe, like lanterns lit along a dark path.

The Sanctuary should have detailed records on the Association of Beauty Worshipers; we needed to leaf through those dusty ledgers like autumn pages.

“I expect even if we dig something up, the harvest won’t be much,” she said, voice like a faded drum.

Spring Tide felt a gray tide in her chest, while Silver Luan spoke bluntly, like a straight blade.

“Even so, if there is a link, we can pull out Ultimate Evil’s nails in the imperial capital, weeds from the paving.”

“True—and we can also ask why that one chose the protest hour to slip into the royal city, like a shadow on cue.”

“You mean your perverse senior sister, a thorn in the sleeve?”

Cerqin remembered the first spur that sent them galloping to the capital, dust streaming like banners.

“Could that senior, Ming Duo, be tied to Ultimate Evil as well, like a chain linking two iron rings?”

Such a guess seems likely; Ultimate Evil’s moves in the royal city are louder than that muddled association’s protests, thunder over chatter.

“I think likely not; it feels like cold water on the rumor.”

“Hm? You’re that sure, like a nail set?”

Spring Tide’s look drew Cerqin’s curiosity like a moth to a lamp.

On the road she’d heard rumors: as kids, Spring Tide and that senior got along, like two saplings swaying together.

A few years ago Ming Duo defected from the Sanctuary, slipped the Law Enforcement Hall, and left twisted crimes like scars.

Spring Tide waved helplessly, palms slicing the air like tired wings.

“I actually guessed that too, but Uncle-Master Ninexiao—well, Sister—shot it down, like snuffing a wick.”

“The Bishop said so?” Eyebrow arched like a drawn bow.

“I said it, like a pebble dropped into hush.”

Ninexiao’s voice rang in the room, like a bell behind the door; all four turned to the threshold like grasses to wind.

“That little one should have nothing to do with Ultimate Evil; as for why…”

Ninexiao paused on purpose, letting silence hang like a curtain.

“It’s not my line either; Ming Xi said so.”

Cerqin then understood why Spring Tide had switched to calling her Sister, the honorific settling like silk.

Silver Luan and Aileaf relaxed when they heard it came from Archbishop Mingxi, as if clouds parted.

Both had seen Ming Xi in Eastwind City; that languid elder sister’s depth was like a bottomless lake.

Their status wasn’t ordinary: Silver Luan, daughter of the Half Dragonkin chief; Aileaf, a Littlefolk princess, names like banners in wind.

More or less, both had heard of that mysterious Sanctuary Archbishop, a name carried like wind.

“Didn’t the Archbishop say what Ming Duo is doing in the royal capital, like tracks in dust?”

Silver Luan looked to Bishop Ninexiao; the intel came by special means, like a sealed letter, so Ninexiao had asked as well.

“Ming Xi’s gift is peculiar; even knowing things, some truths can’t be spoken straight, like knots that won’t untie.”

“Then there’s no helping it,” Spring Tide sighed, like rain leaving a stone cold.

Spring Tide remembered her crossings through time, memories fluttering like torn flags.

Since arriving in the royal city, emergencies stacked like storm clouds; Ming Duo’s matter slid down the list like sand.

If there’s no link, that senior likely has already left, a bird from the eaves.

She rushed here hoping to borrow Bishop Ninexiao’s strength—if they could corner her, arrest the defector, net and pike ready.

Thinking that, Spring Tide weighed her current strength like a blade in hand.

She had ascended the Seventh Rank, and now could face the senior she once gazed up to like a mountain.

Ninexiao continued, voice steady as rain.

“I think that one avoids saying plenty, just to watch the show, like a cat at the window.

As for Ming Duo, I have intel—she hasn’t left the royal city yet, footprints still damp.”

Sanctuary knights in the capital spotted someone like the wanted poster, a shadow matching a sketch.

Before reporting, they were ambushed, shadows closing like jaws.

In the following days, more Sanctuary knights were attacked in succession, like lamps snuffed one by one.

The attackers stole two small bumps from their bodies, plucked like berries.

From the method, it’s surely Ming Duo, like a signature stroke.

“I meant to take the field myself, but for now there’s no good way,” Ninexiao said, breath like a caged breeze.

“The whole city is under lockdown by many factions; in this weather, my craft can’t stretch its wings.”

Soul power is disrupted by large arrays opened everywhere; wide-area searching by mind is like wading through tar.

“Against a Seventh Rank, mid and low ranks won’t help; even veteran Divine Officers find that little one thorny, a bramble in mail.”

Ninexiao sounded helpless, like rain hitting stone.

“Ming Duo’s skill isn’t strange in form; the problem is she’s one of Ming Xi’s most prized disciples, a hawk raised in a high aerie.

Her gift for magic is fearsome; if she hadn’t defected, Spring Tide’s Holy Maiden title might have fallen to her, a crown to a different brow.

Ming Duo was once the fiercest contender for the East District Holy Maiden, a phoenix circling the altar.”

“Spring Tide, if you encounter her, stall her, then crush this, like breaking a seed.”

Ninexiao pressed a small bead into Spring Tide’s palm, familiar as a star; Ming Xi had given her one before, twin lights in memory.

Spring Tide nodded, then told Ninexiao about the Association of Beauty Worshipers, thread unspooling.

“I had people gather intel before; nothing stood out, just sand through fingers.”

Since Ming Duo might link to that group, and I had word of her arrival, I sent investigators early, sparrows in the hedges.

But we found nothing, no thread to pull.

“So this association has ties to Ultimate Evil too, like two rivers meeting?”

“Also, even if Master says Ming Duo isn’t tied to Ultimate Evil, it doesn’t rule out a tie to that association,” Spring Tide said, words like flint.

Ninexiao frowned, lines like ripples across still water.

“Thinking that way, this organization isn’t simple; there’s definitely something crooked under the floorboards.”

“In that case, I’ll send people to check again, lanterns out into fog.”

She left at once to arrange it, and the room held three people and one soul again, quiet as a pond.

“Cerqin, how long until your soul recovers to a perfect state, clear as a mirror?”

“With consciousness, I can mobilize faster, like wind filling a sail.

It’ll be two or three days, two sunrises and a moon.”

“I see—faster than expected, like spring thaw.”

“What is it?” Cerqin asked, a prickle in her tone.

“After this is done, let’s end the Sacred Patrol, fold the banners.”

“With the array’s help, we should reach the Sixth Rank faster, like stepping stones.”

“Reach Sixth, like climbing another step?

I only hit the Fifth Rank a few days ago, shot up from the Third like a firework.”

“That speed draws envy like bees to nectar, but the foundation lacked settling, clay not yet baked.

At the same rank, it’s hard to win; I mostly grind, leaning on my strong recovery, tide against rock.”

“Mm… better carve out more time, like carving wood.

After the Sixth Rank, deepen pure understanding of your powers, sink roots.

To a degree, we can force mana into the body and raise the body’s strength like tempering steel.”

“Is this because of the Four Pole Stars?” Aileaf asked, voice like dew.

Aileaf asked; Spring Tide nodded to her, eyes calm as moonlight on water.

“Aileaf, you’re close to the Sixth Rank.

Silver Luan is in her comprehension phase now.

So the biggest problem is Cerqin, a knot to untie.”

Once we light all Four Pole Stars, the four of us set our goal, a constellation to chase.

We’ll unlock our awakenings upon rising to the Seventh Rank, like doors opening at dawn.

“Why the rush, like a wind at our backs?” Cerqin asked, doubt drifting like mist.

“I suspect some truths won’t show themselves until the Four Pole Stars blaze, lamps at the four corners.

After the Seventh Rank, I’ve gained new readings and guesses about the world’s falseness, cracks under paint.

They came from secrets I saw while crossing time, but those guesses need testing, hammer to nail.”

Spring Tide and the other three shared a quiet foreboding, like drums under the earth.

Unspoken, yet when the Four Pole Stars shine, many things will rise to the surface, shapes in deep water.