Neutral ground is a lie.
It just means no one has attacked yet.
Iron Lake City learned that at dawn.
The market opened.
The streets filled.
And then—nothing moved.
Sound vanished.
Not suppressed.
Removed.
I stood up slowly.
"That's not a sect," I said.
Xueyi's hand tightened on her sword.
"No banner. No presence."
"Exactly."
The air folded.
A domain formed.
Colorless.
Borderless.
Perfect.
Three figures appeared.
Not walking.
Not teleporting.
Inserted.
They wore gray.
No insignia.
No emotion.
Each carried a tablet carved with Heavenly law.
Heavenly Enforcers.
One spoke.
"Neutrality is inefficiency."
The second continued.
"Observation breeds contamination."
The third looked directly at me.
"Deviation must choose: submission or removal."
I sighed.
"You skipped negotiation."
The domain tightened.
Gravity bent.
Time resisted.
Xueyi moved—
And froze.
Not restrained.
Outprioritized.
I stepped forward.
The domain shuddered.
"You don't understand," I said calmly.
"I don't choose within systems."
I raised my sword.
Not against them.
Against the domain itself.
One slash.
Conceptual.
The domain cracked.
Sound rushed back like a scream.
The Enforcers staggered.
Tablets flared.
Law activated.
I watched the symbols.
Learned them.
Rejected three.
Corrected two.
Combined one.
"Law is just technique with authority," I muttered.
I stepped inside their formation.
They struck.
Perfect coordination.
Flawless execution.
Outdated assumptions.
Their attacks passed where I had been expected to exist.
I wasn't there.
Two fell.
Unwounded.
Unconscious.
Disconnected.
The last Enforcer retreated half a step.
The first mistake.
I tapped his tablet.
It split.
Law unraveled.
He dropped to one knee.
Not dead.
Not broken.
Defeated.
"Tell Heaven," I said softly,
"neutrality just became expensive."
The city breathed again.
Markets resumed.
People whispered.
Heaven recalculated.
Again.