The Southern Azure Gate of Canglan had never seen a farewell like it.
Half a million citizens, merchants, blacksmiths, wandering sword masters, and officials lined the imperial highway for three miles. Golden dragon banners flew from the watchtowers. Nine hundred trumpeters played until their cheeks turned purple. Choruses scattered plum petals over red carpets.
Austin led the parade out of the city.
He wore his blue hard hat, grease-stained denim, and steel-toed boots. His five-foot Stellar-Steel pipe wrench rested across his right shoulder.
Xiaoyao walked beside him, newly advanced to Foundation Establishment Stage 1. He held the mules’ lead ropes with easy confidence. His clipboard was thick with shipping lists and delivery receipts.
Jiang Taixu followed in dark-gray work clothes. Two oak crates of lathe tools, drawings, and brass valves rested on his shoulders. His arena repairs were complete, but his six-month probation traveled with him in Xiaoyao’s ledger.
He had chosen the heaviest load without being asked. When spectators crowded the road, Ruan’s guards handled them. Jiang stayed with the cargo and checked the straps at each stop.
Pug trotted between them in a custom pack saddle. The First Epoch server sat in the center basket, wrapped in quilted wool and Austin’s spare socks. All three tongues hung out as he ate flower petals from the carpet.
At the gate, Zhao and Ouyang dropped to their knees.
“Canglan bids farewell to the Supreme Patriarch of the Cosmic Spanner!” Zhao shouted. “May the foundations of Sunset Peak endure for ten thousand years!”
“SEND OFF THE PATRIARCH!” half a million voices roared.
Austin stopped and pushed up his glasses.
“Governor, before the rains next month, clean the leaves and silt from the drains along the eastern wall. Water trapped behind a stone wall can push forty yards of it into the vegetable market.”
Zhao nodded through his tears. “The drains will be cleared before dusk!”
“Good. Copper arrives on the first. Tell the drivers to chock their wheels on the hill.”
Austin turned south onto the open road.
***
The trip home was pure tradesman bliss.
With no tournament deadline, Austin kept them to an easy twenty miles a day. He inspected bridge supports, checked gravel with his heel, and studied the roadside ditches.
On the third afternoon, they entered Red-Rock Gorge.
Austin slowed in surprise.
The old bandit barricade was gone. Loose boulders had been cleared from the shoulders.
Thirty former highway robbers now worked along the ditch in bright orange armbands. They used shovels, tamping bars, and spirit levels to fill the wagon ruts with crushed red stone.
Scar-Face Zhang saw Austin’s hard hat and saluted with his shovel.
“REPORTING TO THE CHIEF HIGHWAY INSPECTOR! The gorge road has been resurfaced! The crown slopes exactly two percent for drainage! Potholes filled and tamped in six-inch lifts! Ditches cleared of deadwood and roots!”
Austin stepped onto the repair and twisted his full weight into the gravel. It held firm, with no rut beneath his boot.
He nodded and tossed Zhang a leather bag containing forty silver coins.
“Good work. Clean stone, proper slope, clear ditches. Keep it up and I’ll see about putting your crew on the regional road payroll.”
Zhang clutched the bag to his chest.
“THANK YOU, CHIEF INSPECTOR! WE WILL DEFEND THIS ROAD AND ITS DRAINS UNTIL WE ROT!”
“Just keep the water moving. Standing water kills roads faster than heavy wagons.”
***
At noon on the fourth day, they reached the crossroads beneath the old locust tree.
The soot-stained noodle shack was gone.
In its place stood the Immortal Wheat Pavilion, a busy two-story cedar lodge with glazed jade roof tiles. Expensive carriages filled the yard. Hundreds of cultivators and merchants waited in four long lines for the legendary noodles of enlightenment.
When Austin’s blue hard hat appeared, the courtyard fell silent.
The kitchen doors burst open.
BANG!
Old Man Liu rushed out. He was now tall and broad-shouldered, with thick black hair, clear skin, and the aura of a Late Foundation master. He crossed the yard in three quick strides and threw himself at Austin’s feet.
“Patriarch! Disciple Liu rested the dough for twelve hours! The gluten is fully developed!”
Five minutes later, the kitchen stopped serving everyone else.
Three large bowls of beef noodles arrived for Austin, Xiaoyao, and Jiang. A cast-iron trough holding sixty pounds of noodles and braised beef was set before Pug.
Austin lifted a noodle, inspected it, and took a long slurp.
SLUUUUUURP.
He chewed slowly and nodded.
“Hydration holds at sixty-four percent. Good stretch and spring. Rich broth, clean finish. Flawless work, Uncle Liu. Five stars.”
Liu wept into his apron.
Austin took a new box of twelve yellow grease pencils from his pack and set it on the table.
“Your tip. Mark the dough tubs and supply bins. It won’t wipe off in steam or grease.”
To the watching cultivators, the pencils looked like sacred talismans. Liu accepted the box with both hands as if it contained the seals of heaven.
***
At dusk on the fifth day, the familiar twin granite peaks of Mount Clear Sky rose above the Southern Cloud Mountains.
Austin stopped on the last crest and looked down.
Along the lower road, the new culvert walls and footings remained wrapped in damp burlap. He checked their moisture readings. The curing had gone well: no cracks, no flaking, and even color across the concrete.
“Good. They’ll handle the imperial copper wagons next week.”
Above the trees, three Golden Sun-Crows swept through the evening clouds, trailing ruby light.
Fifty meters beneath the mountain, a steady sixty-hertz hum rolled through the bedrock. Plant Foreman Tie Kuang and his five hundred yellow-helmeted miners were still on shift.
Austin breathed in pine sap, crushed stone, and warm machine oil. He scratched Pug behind the middle ear.
“Home sweet home. Time to unload, run the conduit, and bolt down the fifty-ton press. Road trip’s over, boys. Back to work.”