The brazier in the council hall still held a few dying embers. Ash-gray chunks of charcoal trembled lightly in the wind, as if they had not quite died. Chen Wuya sat without moving, the cup of coarse tea beside him still steaming. He stared at a tea leaf floating at the rim, waiting for it to sink.
What had just happened was already over—Shen Yan had been taken away, the fake roster had burned into black butterflies and scattered, and the bronze token of the Hengshan branch had fallen to the floor, unclaimed. The crowd had shouted, raged, and slammed their hands on the table, but in the end, they all quieted down. Some began sorting through documents; others quietly checked the battle reports. Firelight reflected on their faces, and there was no longer nothing but hostility there.
Bai Zhi stood before the table and handed him the final draft of the terms. Across the page were the words "Trial Rules for the Unexpected Merit Pool," followed by the names of the review representatives selected by the three factions.
"They agreed," she said.
Chen Wuya took the brush and drew a checkmark at the end. The ink spread into a small blot, like a patch.
"What comes next?" he asked, looking up.
One of the Greenwood Alliance leaders coughed twice. "The rules are set, but how do we divide it? Who should get more, who should get less—we need an explanation for that."
Before his words had faded, an elder of the Southern faction took over. "Three disciples under my command died in battle, yet their relief grain cannot even make it into the first batch. By the old rules, we would have to wait another three months before it was our turn. Since we are recalculating now, then human