The copper clasp at the center of the command ledger opened like a small mouth. A red mark stretched from it across the floor and caught Yan around the wrist.
The binding tightened. His hand jerked toward the desk. The oath seal tried to register him as a central operator, to make the next movement follow a command written in the ledger. It was Wuchen’s technique acting through the clasp, not a cost Yan could reverse by cultivating harder.
Yan planted his feet and twisted his arm. The mark pulled against him. He saw a thin copper strip where the clasp joined the ledger’s spine. The seal’s force came through that physical anchor. He drove Thousand Fractures into the strip.
The clasp shattered. The red line snapped apart, leaving a welt around Yan’s wrist. His joints held under the internal strain of the strike, but the binding had been real. He flexed his fingers once, then moved before Wuchen could write another mark.
Two wardens rushed in from the gallery doors. The first swung his baton toward Yan’s head. Yan raised his reinforced forearm to take the blow and redirected the baton into the empty aisle. He used his shoulder to push the warden away from Dalan and the clerks. The man stumbled, lost his grip, and let the baton hit the floor. After one frightened glance at Yan, he backed away.
