Roots fed. Frostbound oath forged. Now rumor's roar pressed iron boots into the crown's oldest coil.
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Li Shen stood at the orchard's gate, the churned frost path stretching behind him — every muddy bootprint stamped with hush turned vow. The Wolfchain banner snapped above his shoulder — the ghost rune burning pale against silk streaked with orchard ash and crown blood.
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At his feet, orchard fathers checked spear shafts wrapped in fresh frost sigils. Mothers bound iron helm rims with cloth dipped in melted snow, sealing serpent runes under frost promise. Children too small for blades tied bundles of frost herbs tight to ration sacks — hush healing for wounds not yet drawn.
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Yue Lan crouched beside the churned path's edge, spirit threads flicking ghost runes into pine roots where the orchard hush would trail rumor's march into coil stone.
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Master Tian sat on his stump, breath rasping low but eyes bright as dawn frost. He spat once into the churned mud — a grin splitting thin lips cracked by hush and iron.
> "March too far," he wheezed, "and frost breaks off from root. Coil swallows rumor like stone drinks salt."
Li Shen's grin cracked hush wide.
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"Roots hold," he said, palm pressed to the churned path. "Rumor feeds frost. Frost binds oath. We don't march alone."
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He rose — boots squelching frost mud under hush. He lifted the Wolfchain banner high, silk snapping sharp under orchard wind. The Fang's dagger glinted at the hem — rumor's first tooth stitched into oath cloth.
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Yue Lan's spirit threads drifted up the pole — frost tips biting silk, ghost rune burning cold enough to smoke orchard hush into pine shadows.
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She leaned close, breath brushing Li Shen's jaw.
> "Spies coil in pine. Old traitors slither where rumor slips stone. Crown roads feed iron fangs."
Li Shen's blade hummed against his shoulder. His grin sharpened.
> "Then rumor eats them first."
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Orchard fathers formed two ranks — spears braced across broad shoulders, iron spearheads hammer-forged from serpent helms buried under frost trenches. Mothers passed pitch oil jars down the line — hush fires waiting for crown steel to taste frost again.
Children gathered at the rear — pulling orchard carts strapped with salt bricks, rusted chains, lumps of pitch coal, frost herbs bundled like shrine offerings.
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At dusk, Tian's Watch opened its gate. Old hinges groaned where orchard roots once fed hush to keep the crown out. Now rumor pushed through, frostbound oath slipping dusk into pine trails where crown spies once slithered unseen.
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Li Shen stepped first — boots sinking hush into churned frost. The orchard line followed — iron breath, frost mist, hush turned roar carried in each step.
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Above Tian's Watch, the frost banner fluttered once — ghost rune flickering hush bright before dusk swallowed orchard roots from sight.
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Roots fed. Frost risen. Oath bound.
Rumor marched.
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⚡ End of Chapter Thirty-Six — Crowncoil March
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