The first talisman struck the upper sluice before Yan reached it.
Its black hook bit into the wet wood. The paper snapped tight, and the gate lurched sideways with a groan. Water slapped over the stone lip and rushed toward the orchard ditch. A second strip curled around the lower gate, twisting its hinge against the current.
Yan ran along the channel. Behind him, Wei called for the shield students to hold the lane. The nearest imperial cultivator raised his arm. A row of thin arrows of qi shot across the orchard path.
One struck a shield and burst into blue sparks. Another cut the air over Yan’s shoulder. A third hit the channel wall, chipping stone into the water.
The shots did not soften because Yan had cultivated dangerous arts. He lowered his head and kept moving.
“Pei!” he called.
The grower was beside the lower gate with his sleeves rolled above his elbows. He had left his market stall to help the water carriers close the furrows. “The upper hinge is twisted. If you pull that gate loose, it’ll drop into the channel.”
“Can you hold the lower one?”
