The road did not end at a gate.
It loosened.
The packed earth widened into stone that had been laid, repaired, and relaid so many times it no longer showed its age. Hoofbeats softened, absorbed rather than echoed. Lanterns hung at measured intervals, already lit though dusk had only just settled, their light steady and warm, revealing nothing urgent and nothing hidden.
They rode straight in.
No shout followed them. No spears lowered. No challenge rang out.
Soldiers were everywhere.
Not clustered, not bristling, but distributed. Two at a corner where a bridge met the road. Three near a grain store, speaking quietly. A pair standing beneath a lantern, armor clean, posture relaxed but exact. They did not stare. They did not need to. Their presence was constant enough that attention became unnecessary.
Li felt it immediately. The Central Kingdom did not occupy a city; they inhabited it.
In Bing Ya, guards marked danger. They were a jagged fence of steel meant to keep the chaos at bay. But here, they were the atmosphere itself. They marked routine.
The outer district unfolded around them, an administrative town stitched neatly onto the edge of the Radiant Center. Inns with open doors and hanging signs. Tea houses still serving. Carts rolling unhurriedly toward storehouses. Everything moved according to a rhythm that did not break for travelers, no matter how well armed.
It would be easy to vanish here, Li realized. One turn, one crowd, one wrong street and a person would dissolve into motion.
It would be impossible to move without being recorded.
They were directed toward a waystation without anyone raising their voice. A soldier stepped forward at an intersection, gestured with two fingers, and stepped back again. No explanation. No escort. Just an assumption that they would comply.
They did.
The waystation courtyard was broad and clean, its stone swept clear of mud and debris. More soldiers stood there, some leaning against pillars, some seated at a low table sharing tea, their weapons close but unattended. A notice board stood near the entrance, freshly updated. Schedules. Assignments. Public postings.
Li did not slow as they passed it, but his eyes caught fragments.
Dawn rotation confirmed.
Crowd management teams assigned.
Execution platform inspection complete.
Nothing named. Nothing emphasized.
Liang Wei did not look at the board at all. Her gaze stayed level, her posture unremarkable, her presence precise. She had gone quiet again, the way she did when thought narrowed into function.
At the registration hall, they dismounted.
This time, the separation came gently.
A clerk in clean robes sat behind a long table, brush poised, expression neutral. He smiled as they approached, the smile practiced and unremarkable.
"Travelers register here," he said. His eyes flicked once to Li's insignia, then to the escort. "Military personnel may proceed to the adjacent desk."
Li paused.
The clerk was already turning the page.
Another attendant stepped forward, gesturing Liang Wei toward a second table set slightly apart. "Soldiers this way."
Liang Wei moved without hesitation.
The escort followed her path with his eyes, then stepped neatly into place beside Li, as though it had always been intended.
Li did not object. He understood the cost of doing so.
At the second table, a younger clerk took Liang Wei's details. Name. Unit. Point of origin. Destination.
Her responses were minimal and accurate. With an even tone that revealed neither eagerness nor resistance, she set her unit aside.
The clerk nodded, satisfied, and pressed a stamp onto a small wooden token before sliding it across. "For lodging and movement after second bell," he said. "Keep it visible."
She accepted it and stepped back.
At Li's table, the questions were different.
Purpose of travel. Rank confirmation. Expected duration of stay.
The escort answered one before Li could, smoothly, deferentially. "Official business. Time is sensitive."
The clerk's brush paused for a fraction of a second.
"Then you will want to be mindful of dawn schedules," he said mildly. "The city is… structured."
Li inclined his head. "Where are the detained transfers held?"
The brush did not stop this time. The clerk continued writing, unfazed.
"Detention and transfer fall under the Ministry of Order," he said. "Facilities vary depending on classification. Executions are handled separately, of course."
"Of course," Li said.
The clerk finally looked up. "Attendance has already been confirmed."
Li thanked him and stepped away.
They regrouped near the horses, now being led toward the stables by attendants who did not wait for instruction. Around them, the district continued to breathe. Lanterns glowed brighter as night settled fully. Voices rose and fell. Somewhere nearby, a bell rang, not loudly, but clearly enough to be heard across several streets.
Second bell.
Movement adjusted almost immediately. Shops began to close. Soldiers shifted positions. Doors were barred, not hurriedly, but with habit.
Li stood still, absorbing it. "This city doesn't chase," he said quietly.
Liang Wei glanced toward the street where two patrols crossed paths, exchanged nods, and continued on without breaking stride. "It counts."
The escort's attention sharpened. "You've been here before," he said, not accusing. Observing.
Liang Wei did not answer.
Her silence did not read as defiance. It read as compliance trained too deeply to be careless.
Li watched her from the corner of his eye.
She was already mapping it. The spacing of guards. The rhythm of bells. The way clerks deferred upward rather than outward. The invisible lines that led from desk to desk, seal to seal, cell to scaffold.
He understood then what Zhou had done.
Speed would not save them.
Force would only announce them.
"If Wei Deng is alive," Li said softly, "he is already processed."
"Yes," Liang Wei replied. "But processing leaves gaps."
Li turned to her fully. "Where."
She did not answer immediately. She watched the waystation doors close. Counted footsteps. Noted which guards remained and which rotated out.
"Between custody and ceremony," she said at last. "No one watches the man. They watch the schedule."
The escort said nothing.
Above them, the lanterns burned steadily, their light unblinking.
Somewhere deeper in the Radiant Center, preparations continued.
And for the first time since they crossed the boundary stone, Li felt the shape of a plan forming that did not rely on speed, or strength, or luck.
Only understanding how the Empire moved when it believed itself unchallenged.