The ordinary corridor folded back toward its own entrance when Yan reached the Registry’s inner threshold. A seal glowed on the lintel, redirecting anyone who followed the marked passage. Two wardens held the crossing, each carrying a baton linked to the command network.
Yan recognized a confinement formation, not a locked door. The route he had taken ended where it began, though the stair behind him remained visible. He could not waste the buffer window walking in circles.
He used the Heaven-Burial Step he had recovered and practiced earlier. The step carried his body across the sealed threshold and reinforced his foundation through its own cost. He followed the full sequence and crossed on the first attempt.
The fold did not stop the wardens from attacking. One lunged with the baton as Yan landed. Yan turned aside and disarmed him, striking the weapon hand rather than the man’s throat. The baton hit the floor and rolled under a bench.
The second warden saw his partner’s weapon fall and lowered his own. Yan asked which way the upper hall lay.
“Service stair,” the warden said. “Wuchen went through the records wing.”
A corridor runner arrived with a report from the west village. The crew had disconnected its node and moved residents to the high shelter. The neighboring barrier remained lit. Yan asked the runner to take the safer stair back to the furnace and deliver the report to Wei.
