Xianyang's walls loomed like the jaws of a beast, their stone etched with the Qin's unyielding decrees. Lin Han, Chen, and the peasant brothers had slipped away from the ambush, leaving the grain to Zhao's men. Bo hadn't made it. His betrayal, or someone else's, gnawed at Lin Han's mind as they hid in a merchant's cart, bound for the capital. Mei-Ling had stayed with them, her bow hidden under a cloak, her silence heavier than the city's gates.
Xun's words drove them: the jade seal, buried beneath the terracotta guardians, could sway the people to their cause or doom the empire. Lin Han didn't trust the old man, but a relic tied to the First Emperor's legacy was too powerful to ignore. If Zhao sought it, Lin Han would claim it first.
The cart rattled into Xianyang's market, a chaos of silk traders and shouting scribes. Lin Han's group slipped into the alleys, guided by Chen's memory of a sewer grate near the imperial vaults. The air grew thick with damp earth and decay as they descended, their torches flickering against clay walls. The vaults, said to house the emperor's treasures, lay beneath the terracotta army's silent watch.
In the tunnels, Mei-Ling broke her silence. "This is madness," she whispered. "Zhao's guards patrol these vaults. If we're caught, it's not just death. It's erasure."
"Then stay quiet," Lin Han said, his voice sharp. "Or tell me whose side you're on."
Her eyes flashed. "I saved you from those riders. Don't test me."
Chen hissed from ahead. "Here." A stone door, carved with Legalist edicts, blocked their path. Lin Han traced the carvings, finding a hidden latch. The door groaned open, revealing a chamber where terracotta warriors stood in endless rows, their painted eyes cold and unyielding.
At the chamber's heart, a jade seal glowed faintly on a stone plinth, its surface etched with dragons. Lin Han reached for it, but Mei-Ling grabbed his arm. "Wait. It's too easy. Zhao's men should be here."
She was right. The air shifted, and boots echoed from the tunnel. Lin Han shoved the seal into his tunic as guards poured in, led by a man in black robes, Lord Zhao's sigil on his chest. "Surrender the seal," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Or your names end here."
Lin Han's mind raced. Fight, and they'd die. Flee, and the seal was lost. Mei-Ling's hand twitched toward her bow, but her eyes held a question, not for the guards but for him. He saw it then: she'd known the trap was coming. She hadn't betrayed him, but she'd known.
Before he could speak, Xun's voice echoed from the shadows. "The seal chooses its bearer, boy. But it carries a curse." A torch flared, revealing not just guards but a scroll in the leader's hand, its text glowing faintly, like the seal.
Lin Han tightened his grip on his knife. The seal burned against his chest, and Mei-Ling's choice, whatever it was, would decide their fate. But the scroll, and Xun's warning, hinted at a truth larger than rebellion, one that could break the Qin apart.