The second formation pushed people toward the storehouses.
Its blue lines ran along the stones of the central path and met at a bright mark beside the gate. When the seal flared, the air seemed to press against anyone standing within its reach. The orchard families nearest the road stumbled backward. Two shield students caught an old man before he fell.
Ning was already moving the families the other way. “Take them through the corridor. Keep the well lane open.”
“The formation is closing that path too,” Wei called.
He had moved his shields to protect the clinic and storehouses. One group held the entrance to the homes; another stood beside the well path, where water carriers had to pass even during the retreat. The students were tired, but they followed his calls.
Yan approached from the clinic. Qinghe came behind him with Ren’s pulse notes in hand. She had made him promise to return if his arm worsened, and he had kept it bandaged. The cut stung as he moved, but the fingers remained steady.
“Ren’s circulation has improved,” she said. “He stays inside. The rest of us need a clear route to move the wounded.”
“The path’s locked,” Wei said. “The seal is pushing toward the storehouse. It wants everyone in one place.”
