The imperial capital’s mess was mostly tidied away, like dust swept off a lacquered floor.

Now Spring Tide and Silver Luan had both reached the Seventh Rank, and their long-distance comms tests had clicked into place like stars aligning.

A week after Silver Luan’s breakthrough, like a new moon turning.

The Holy Maiden’s Grand Pilgrimage convoy stood ready, a row of a dozen magitek carriages lined like shields, with Baili and Qianli spearheading the knights.

"Then, see you next time," Spring Tide said, her tone light as a leaf drifting on water.

"Shouldn’t take long; the remote comm system will get its first frame up, like scaffolding rising in bamboo."

"Reaching out will be easier then, like bridges dropped over a stream."

Spring Tide bid Ninexiao farewell, ease settling like a released bowstring, while Cerqin and White Thought whispered over blueprints like sparrows pecking seed.

Silver Luan and the scarred woman White Feather stood aside with eyes closed, storing strength like stones warming in sunlight.

Tiny Aileaf marshaled the Nuns, loading goods onto the carriages like ants ferrying grain.

They didn’t linger; once the last crate thumped aboard, Spring Tide and Ninexiao cut the farewell clean, like a blade through silk.

"Uncle, I’m heading back," she said, voice steady as a quiet tide.

"Mm," he answered, like a stone dropping into a pond.

With the Holy Maiden back in her convoy and wheels rolling, this year’s pilgrimage ended early, its inspected cities fewer, like a map half colored.

Yet the storms they’d weathered were beyond their old reach, like waves taller than the mast.

Risk bred opportunity, and the harvest was heavy, like fields sagging with grain.

A leap to Seventh Rank, solid allies in hand—these months mattered to Spring Tide, like ink setting deep on a scroll.

"Why’d you put Ming Duo in this room...?" Cerqin complained, her words curling like smoke.

She stared at Ming Duo, bound in a black box with only her head showing; that blank gaze met hers like winter glass, chilling air.

"No choice. One person guarding her’s risky; keeping her on our carriage’s safest, like anchoring in a sheltered cove."

...

Silver Luan and Aileaf didn’t look thrilled either; with an outsider aboard, many things had to be bottled, like fire under wet ash.

"So what do we do on the road?" Cerqin asked, her voice beating like a drum.

She asked the real question; she doubted Spring Tide could hold back for ten days to Eastern Sea City, like a bowstring strained to sing.

"Don’t tell me we really can’t do anything..." The words fell like rain tapping on a roof.

As Cerqin spoke, Silver Luan and Aileaf fixed Spring Tide with level stares, like lanterns turning in the dark.

They’d only learned after departure that Ming Duo would ride in their four-person carriage, like a fifth chair squeezed in.

"Can’t you endure ten days?" The question twanged like a taut string.

"You sure you can?" Aileaf went first, small body and big eyes heavy with grievance, like storm clouds in a teacup.

Cerqin cut in, voice quick as a sparrow.

"Since you made this black restraint box, why not cover the head too?" Her words pecked like beaks.

She pointed at the coffin-like box; without Ming Duo’s head outside, it could pass for decor, just sitting there like a lacquered chest.

"It’s an ancient restraint artifact; it won’t wrap the head, like a net that won’t catch minnows."

Silver Luan, silent till then, cut in like a knife through cloth.

"Cerqin, can’t you whip up another box, put Ming Duo inside, make it soundproof, and add a mana-ripple alarm, like a shell that whistles?"

"I can...," she said, the words dragging like wet rope.

She’d planned to study magitek carriage blueprints on the road; when they bought more, she’d asked Ninexiao for funds, like a squirrel stashing nuts.

She’d bought one extra, stripped it to parts, and drafted each piece, like mapping the bones of a beast.

Cerqin meant to optimize structure and function, like tuning a zither until every string sang.

But a soundproof box now took priority, like a fire that needed quenching first.

She sighed and took the task, the breath drifting like mist.

Ten days of abstinence was unthinkable, yet Ming Duo couldn’t be watched by only one Seventh Rank, like a gate with one hinge.

If it was just her and Aileaf for ten days, well... that was never going to be calm, like sparks near dry tinder.

"Fine, I’ll hurry it out; good thing we stocked extra materials, like rain filling a cistern."

"So what are you arguing about?" Ming Duo asked, her voice cool as a shaded well.

The black box held her body, leaving her head free to talk, but the shackles sealed her power, like frost on a blade.

Yet anything worked by mana had holes to her eyes; they could never leave it unattended, like a dam with hairline cracks.

"Why can she still talk..." Cerqin muttered, her words fluttering like moths.

Ming Duo tilted her head, blank as moonlight on water.

"My head’s out, after all," she said, dry as sand.

...

Cerqin shot Spring Tide a sidelong glare; Spring Tide looked away, guilty, like a cat caught pawing fish.

She hadn’t expected the ancient device to leave the head outside, like a lock that won’t shut.

When Ninexiao handed her the black box before departure, Spring Tide had been speechless, like wind cut off mid-song.

Cursing her Uncle in her heart like a simmering kettle, Spring Tide changed the subject.

"We’ll stay in Eastern Sea City for a while; when Cerqin hits Sixth Rank, we head for the continent’s center, like geese flying true."

"To the Azuremist Empire?" The name rose like mist over pines.

"On the way. I need a stop at the Sanctuary’s headquarters, like paying respects at a mountain shrine."

Spring Tide paused, then faced Silver Luan and Aileaf, her gaze steady as a lantern flame.

"We agreed, right? We’ll swing by your hometowns too, like tracing a river to its springs."

"Good. I told our clan at the capital’s hall, and Mother sent word; then it depends on you, Cerqin," Silver Luan said, eyes like amber.

"Huh?" The sound popped like a bubble.

For a beat Cerqin didn’t parse it, like a wheel slipping on mud.

"What do you mean it depends on me..." Her voice trailed like fog.

"Well... my mother is the Half Dragonkin’s chieftain," Silver Luan said, words turning like a shy fish.

"Spit it out already," Cerqin pressed, tapping like fingers on a sealed jar.

Her look set a bad premonition in Cerqin’s gut, like wind before rain.

"It’s... we Half Dragonkin take reproduction very seriously, like law carved in stone."

"If Mother pushes, just say you’ll lay the egg!" The line dropped like a pebble in still water.

"Wait—what?!" The shout cracked like thunder in clear sky.

Cerqin froze, her mind blank as snow; Spring Tide spoke, curious as a cat.

"So that’s why you asked me for the Sanctuary’s secret medicine?" The question spun like a leaf.

The Radiant Sanctuary’s elixir lets same-sex pairs conceive; to quiet clan mouths, Silver Luan took a dose long ago, like tucking away a talisman.

"Lucky you. We Littlefolk, even if we love other races, only we can carry the child," Aileaf said, voice soft as moss.

"If I remember right, the Littlefolk are all female, yeah?" The words fell like seeds.

"Yeah." Her nod was a pebble in a brook.

That elixir was modeled on the Littlefolk way of bearing life, like copying a pattern from old brocade.

"Aileaf, you ran away, didn’t you?" Cerqin asked, eyes bright as flint.

Cerqin remembered their first meeting and Aileaf’s hints; back then she didn’t know her true identity, like a mask not yet lifted.

It had been her first time seeing a larger-framed Littlefolk, like a rare blossom out of season.

"Mother’s probably furious, but I couldn’t stand that custom..." Aileaf sighed like wind through reeds.

Princess of the Littlefolk and first in line, Aileaf slipped out to dodge a betrothal from their customs, like a bird fleeing a gilded cage.

She sighed; Cerqin ruffled her hair, then gathered her in with a satisfied hug, like pulling a quilt close.

"Heh-heh." The laugh bubbled like spring water.

"Keep that up and I won’t be able to hold back..." Her warning was a spark near tinder.

"Heh-heh..." The sound lingered like a cat’s purr.

"Quit it. Make that shielding device already," Spring Tide said, tone firm as a palm on a drum.

"Alright..." Cerqin yielded like a wave folding.

Shielding and alarms sound simple, but tuning them to mana sensitivity took real design, like weaving silk that won’t snag.

After trials, on the third day out of the capital, Cerqin built a box and set it over Ming Duo, like a bell over a candle.

In the days after, they worked by day and played by night, like tides trading places.

They lived on a rhythm of surfacing every two or three days, like whales coming up to breathe.

Not just Cerqin’s group drowned in it; Baili and Qianli, and White Feather with White Thought, all savored it, like bees in overfull bloom.

Around thirteen days later, from a hillside they saw a vast seaside city and the wide blue sea, spread like polished sapphire.

After the handover, it meant the yearly months-long Grand Pilgrimage had closed perfectly, like a seal pressed on warm wax.