Morning light had only just crested the ridge, yet Chen Wuya's palm still clenched that lingering heat. He did not let go or speak, merely slowly slipped his left hand into his belt and pressed down on the faintly burning scar. In the distance, a wisp of dust rose at the canyon entrance—faint, yet drawn straight through the wind.
"Get to work." His voice was not loud, but like a stone dropping into water, it set everything around him in motion at once.
Chen Xuan led seven or eight children toward the southern slope, each with sharpened bamboo stakes over their shoulders. The soil was looser than expected. The first two children had barely planted several stakes when a gust of wind swept through, and the entire row tilted crookedly.
"The angle's wrong." Chen Xuan set down his bundle of bamboo and crouched, brushing away the loose dirt with his hands. "If you drive them straight in, they'll topple easily. Bury them at an angle, crisscross them in pairs, and wedge the bases into rock crevices. That's how they'll hold."
The moment he finished speaking, he got to work. When he had dug half a foot down, his knuckles scraped against broken stone. Blood seeped from his fingertips, but he did not stop. Seeing this, the children followed suit and reset the formation. Before the time it took to burn an incense stick, the entire gentle slope was covered in concealed spikes, their surfaces layered with thin soil and dead leaves. From afar, it looked no different from barren ground.
Bai Zhi watched from higher up for a while. She said nothing, only gave a faint nod.
Elsewhere, Chen Yao was leading several youths in moving rolling logs. The cliff face was steep. The original plan had been to lower