The capital crew received the release instruction and opened its manual disconnect. Its command mark dimmed before Wuchen could force it brighter. The barrier remained on the independent line.
A speaking mirror beside the desk lit with Qinghe’s face. The separate channel had reached the hall. “The capital wall is clear,” she said. “They opened the release. Their gauge is steady.” Behind her, Yan heard a metal tool tap against the console.
The population channel was nearly gone, but Wuchen still held the central seal and a direct current from the command hall. The furnace line was separate. Qinghe could track the reserve; Yan had to finish the ledger’s control.
Wuchen swung the brush sideways and struck Yan’s bound shoulder. Pain flashed down his arm, and the old cut bled through the cloth. Yan kept the injured side close and answered with a full-body step. He caught the brush handle and forced it away from the provincial page.
Wuchen twisted his bound wrist. The oath mark tightened around his skin. He had chosen the seal to anchor his hand to the ledger, and now it limited his turn. Yan used the opening to shift the book. It scraped across the desk and slid from the central alignment notch. Wuchen lost the clean path to the capital wall, but the command page remained connected to the hall’s own ward.
