At dawn, the river mist clung to the bridge pylons like old silk. Li Shen and Yue Lan sat on the far bank, backs to the leaning tower, watching the current carry last night's silver pouch downstream — swallowed by mud, reeds, rumor.
They didn't speak. Words wouldn't change the truth: the South Gate elders wouldn't offer coin again. Next would come the teeth — polished and hidden under monk robes or trader cloaks. Maybe sect blades in silk, but Li Shen knew how silk tore.
---
By midday, they walked the old trader's road that wound along the ridge above the river. Sparse pine, yellow grass, the carcass of a shrine gate toppled by storms long ago. Each turn brought distant glimpses of Gray Hollow's crumbling wall — behind them now, but not far enough.
Li Shen felt the watchers before he saw them. Shadows slipping between trees, footsteps muffled in dry needles. Yue Lan felt it too — her threads drifted wider now, brushing brush and trunk like a weaver's hand searching for knots.
---
They stopped when the path narrowed to a gap between boulders — no way around, no way to run without turning their backs.
Li Shen rested his blade across one shoulder. Yue Lan's eyes flicked at the pines behind them.
"They're not the thieves," she murmured. "Too quiet."
Li Shen's grin was thin. "Too patient."
A figure stepped out first — not ragged like the dock thieves, nor soft like the silver courier. This one wore a dark traveling robe marked with a single white stitch at the collar — a symbol older than most sect banners: a crow feather in flight.
Li Shen almost laughed. "Heaven's crows," he said. "They finally send the watchers."
---
The figure bowed — polite, mocking. A woman, older than Li Shen by a dozen winters at least, face lined by cold wind, eyes bright with the glint of someone who never forgot a face.
"Chain-breaker," she said. Her voice was dry paper. "I expected you sooner."
Li Shen didn't bow. "Sorry. Broke my leash. Roads are slower when you walk free."
The crow tilted her head. She did not smile. Behind her, three more stepped out — all marked by the same white stitch, all too calm for thieves.
"You made quite the mess in Hollow Sky," the crow said. "The elders still count the cracks in their stones."
Li Shen shrugged. "They can use them for graves."
A faint flicker of approval ghosted her lips. "Bold. Good. The Nine Heavens prefer bold prey."
Yue Lan's threads flicked up, quivering between them and the crows.
"Speak your threat," Yue Lan said, her voice soft but edged with the bite of frost. "Or bite."
---
The crow laughed once — no warmth in it.
"No threat. An invitation. The elders would rather tame you than bury you. They think your roar might still fit a leash. And if it doesn't—" Her fingers tapped the air, like counting coins that never existed. "Then we cut out your name, root and branch."
Li Shen stepped forward — so close the nearest crow shifted, hand brushing the hilt hidden under the traveling robe.
"You'll have to swallow a lot of blood to bury my name," he said. "I hope your stomach's stronger than your crown."
---
Silence. Pine needles drifted down between them. Somewhere deeper in the wood, a crow — a real one — cawed once, sharp as a snapped bone.
The elder crow watched him a moment longer, then flicked her sleeve. The three behind her stepped back, vanishing between the trees without a sound.
She stayed, voice dropping to a whisper only Yue Lan's threads could catch.
"You broke one chain, boy. But the sky has a hundred more. And each crown you spit out plants thorns in your throat."
She stepped back too — fading into the mist.
Li Shen stood still, blade resting against his heartbeat. Yue Lan's threads brushed his knuckles like silk ghosts.
She didn't speak. Neither did he.
Above them, the crow called again. One note. Two.
The sky didn't break this time.
But it listened.
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⚡ End of Chapter Seven — Crows at the Gate
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