*Chapter 16: Shadows of Authority**

The first thaw had come to Qingyun Village, melting the ice-bound river into a rushing torrent. Li Tian stood at the water's edge, his hands submerged in the icy flow as he practiced the **Quake-Step** technique. The Kitsune's lesson thrummed in his bones—a delicate balance of qi that vibrated through the earth, sensing disturbances like a spider's web. Today, however, the ground trembled not from his efforts, but from hoofbeats.

A caravan approached.

Six riders clad in lacquered leather armor circled a ornate palanquin carried by sinewy laborers. The lead horseman bore a banner stitched with a coiled serpent—sigil of Magistrate Heng, the regional tax collector infamous for bleeding villages dry.

Li Tian's fingers curled into fists. He'd heard tales of Heng's visits: grain stores emptied, daughters "borrowed" for service, men disappearing into debtors' mines. The **Earthen Veil** stirred instinctively, but he forced it down. *Not yet.*

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**The Village Square**

Elder Guo, recently returned from White Maple Town, stood hunched beneath the ancient cedar that marked Qingyun's heart. His face paled as the palanquin curtains parted.

"A generous season, yes?" Magistrate Heng's voice slithered through the crowd. He was a man of soft edges and hard eyes, his silk robes straining over a belly fattened by bribes. "My auditors say your barley yield tripled last harvest. The Emperor's tax adjusts accordingly."

Murmurs rippled through the villagers. Widow Lan clutched her granddaughter tighter. The blacksmith's forge hammer slipped from nerveless fingers.

"Respected Magistrate," Elder Guo began, knuckles white on his staff, "the extra yield was spent healing the sick after the winter—"

Heng flicked his fingers. A guard backhanded the elder, sending him sprawling.

"The Emperor's tax," the magistrate repeated, smiling, "adjusts accordingly."

Li Tian stepped forward before he could stop himself.

The guards tensed. Heng's gaze sharpened. "Ah. The ghost boy they whisper about. Tell me, child—do you also dispute imperial decree?"

Qi surged—celestial wrath mingled with mortal rage. Li Tian opened his mouth, ready to unleash the **Quake-Step**'s fury.

A hand gripped his shoulder.

"Forgive my son, Honored Magistrate." Wen Lin bowed low, her voice trembling with practiced humility. "He is simple, struck dumb by your magnificence."

Heng's eyes narrowed, lingering on Li Tian's star-flecked irises. "Simple. How... convenient."

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**Dusk, Thirty-Sixth Moon Cycle**

The villagers gathered in Elder Guo's longhouse, their faces lit by guttering tallow candles.

"They took half our seed grain," the miller growled, bandages stark against his split lip. "We'll starve before spring planting."

Widow Lan spat into the fire. "And my Mei-Ling—Heng's men looked at her like she was meat."

Li Tian crouched in the shadows, unnoticed. The **Earthen Veil** clung to him like second skin, but Wen Lin's warning hissed in his ears: *"Not yet. Not openly."*

"There's another way."

All eyes turned to Old Man Heng (no relation to the magistrate), the reclusive herbalist who dwelled in Bone Hollow's shadow. He unrolled a yellowed scroll—a map of the Mistveil Mountains. "The Icebloom Caves. They bloom with golden moss this time of year. A single bushel sells for ten silvers in White Maple."

The miller snorted. "The caves are haunted. Old Wu vanished there last winter—came back mad, babbling of singing stones."

"Madness is preferable to starvation," Old Man Heng retorted.

Li Tian's Kitsune-sharpened ears caught the tremor in the herbalist's voice. *Liar.* The old man knew more than he said.

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**Midnight, Icebloom Caves**

The mountain's breath howled through limestone teeth as Li Tian navigated the tunnels. His qi pulsed in time with the **Quake-Step**, mapping chambers ahead. Behind him trailed six villagers—desperate men led by the miller, their torches guttering in the unnatural wind.

"Here!" The miller gestured to a glimmering patch on the wall. "The moss!"

As the men set to scraping, Li Tian pressed a palm to the stone. The cave *hummed*, a resonance that prickled his meridians.

"You feel it too, boy?"

Old Man Heng materialized from the shadows, his eyes reflecting torchlight like a cat's. "The mountain's song. They say it drives men mad... or reveals truths."

Li Tian's hand fell to the dagger at his belt—a recent acquisition, honed with celestial sharpness. "Why send them here?"

The herbalist smiled, gaps in his teeth like missing tombstones. "Gold buys Magistrate Heng's mercy. But some prices are paid in blood."

A scream echoed.

The miller stumbled back, his arm sheened in glowing blue liquid where the "moss" had brushed his skin. "It burns! Gods, it burns!"

Li Tian moved. The **Seven Celestial Steps** carried him across the chamber as villagers writhed, their torches revealing the truth—the walls weren't moss-clad, but *crawling* with bioluminescent larvae.

**Stone-Dragon's Roar**, a Verdant Dragon technique amplified by scripture's qi, shattered the nest. Acidic ichor rained down, sizzling where it struck stone.

"Out!" Li Tian roared, herding the men toward daylight. "Now!"

Old Man Heng's laughter chased them. "The mountain thanks you, hybrid! Its children were hungry!"

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**Dawn, Thirty-Seventh Moon Cycle**

The survivors gathered at Li Tian's hut, their burns bandaged with his starlit salves.

"You saved us," the miller rasped, pressing a jade amulet—a family heirloom—into Wen Lin's hands. "Whatever you are... thank you."

Wen Lin's smile trembled. Li Tian saw the fear beneath—fear of him, for him.

As the villagers dispersed, Magistrate Heng's spy watched from the treeline.

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