The orchard was no longer just rows of fruit-bearing trees—it had become part of the Root Division's pulse. The evening light scattered in warm, golden shafts through the leaves, carrying the scent of ripening pears and the faint perfume of medicinal herbs growing along the edges.
Tian Shen walked the narrow earthen path between the trees, boots silent against the loam. He carried no spear today, only the small jade token that marked him as Root Division captain. To most, it was a symbol of authority. To him, it was a reminder that leadership was more about weight than privilege.
Feng Yin was ahead, kneeling beside a sapling she had planted weeks ago. The tiny plum tree was still fragile, its branches trembling in the evening breeze. Her hair was bound up loosely, strands catching the light in silver threads. She didn't notice him at first.
"You've been here since noon," Tian Shen said as he approached.
