They dropped past the silent extraction chambers of the Great Lattice. They entered the office heart of the horror: Entry hall 694, the Vault of the Final Ledgers. This was a low-ceilinged, box-shaped hall faced with polished slabs of dark grey slate, lined with rows of iron filing cabinets secured by brass combination dials.
In the center of the hall, resting upon a massive desk of solid cast iron, lay the Master Census of the Sovereign Harvest. The ledger was not made of paper or parchment. It consisted of three hundred thin sheets of rolled star-fallen bronze, bound together with heavy iron rings. Then it locked to the desk by a case-hardened chain.
Qiao Ming approached the desk with bare, silent feet. His calloused soles were cold against the slate floor flags, but his stance was upright, solemn, and unbending as a foundation pillar. He laid his palm upon the heavy bronze cover of the ledger. The metal was cold as ice, bearing an engraved royal title: Register of the Sovereign Spirit-Contribution, Bureau of Dynastic Preservation, High Zenith.
Behind him, Yan Zhiqiu stepped up to the desk, her horn lantern lighting up the first page. With steady, respectful fingers, she turned the heavy bronze leaf. The metal groaned with a dry, metal creak that sounded like a rusted gate swinging in an empty courtyard.
