The trail gradually widened, the packed earth giving way to a more defined road grooved with the deep ruts of countless cart wheels. The dusty, traveled air of the open plains replaced the humid scent of the jungle. With every step, the city on the horizon grew, shedding its ethereal haze and resolving into a structure of breathtaking immensity.
Its walls, a testament to some forgotten age of titans, rose from the earth like a natural mountain range. They were built from colossal blocks of a dark, almost black stone, stacked so high they seemed to graze the underbellies of the clouds. Time had worn their surfaces, rounding sharp edges and cultivating a patina of grey-green moss in the crevices, but it had not diminished their power. They seemed to hum with a latent energy, to breathe with the weight of a thousand years. Towers, square and unadorned, punctuated the vast expanse of the wall at regular intervals, their stony gaze fixed upon the approaching road. This was no mere settlement; it was a fortress, a bastion that had weathered the long march of centuries.
As the scale of the city imprinted itself upon him, Mu Yan felt a sudden, sharp heat bloom on his chest. He flinched, his hand flying to the spot beneath his tunic where the coin's tattoo rested. The sensation flared, a pinpoint of intense warmth, before it vanished as quickly as it came, leaving behind a trace of unnatural coolness against his skin. He frowned, rubbing the area. A signal? A warning? He glanced at Qin Ying, but the sight absorbed her before them. The coin remained a puzzle, its logic his alone to decipher.
The solitude they had grown accustomed to began to fray. First, it was a lone traveler, a man with a weathered face and a heavy pack, who gave them a cursory nod as he passed in the opposite direction. Then, they heard it—the rhythmic creak of wood and the low grunt of beasts. A wagon lumbered toward them, pulled by two creatures that looked like a cross between an ox and a lizard, their scaled hides the color of dried mud. The merchant driving them, a portly man in homespun clothes, eyed Mu Yan and Qin Ying with a practiced, assessing gaze before clicking his tongue and urging his team onward.
Soon, the road was no longer empty. They fell into a sparse stream of humanity. Families with children chasing one another around their parents' legs. Stern-faced guards with spears resting on their shoulders, their armor scuffed and practical. More wagons, laden with everything from cages of squawking fowl to barrels of what smelled like strong wine. The air filled with a murmur of voices in a dialect that was only slightly unfamiliar, the rumble of wheels, and the lowing of beasts.
The city loomed ever closer, its massive gates now a distinct archway in the formidable walls.
Etched into the stone of the massive lintel above the gate, characters from a language ancient and profound language spelled out a single name: Patliputra. The script flowed with an elegance that defied the sheer scale of the gate itself, an archway so vast it could permit multiple carriages to pass through its shadow at once without jostling. The air thrummed with the condensed energy of countless lives, a stark contrast to the quiet menace of the jungle.
Near the entrance, a heated dispute captured their attention. Two groups of men, their faces flushed with anger, stood in a tense standoff. The men on the left wore tunics embroidered with a silver thread depicting a ship, its sails full as it crested a wave. Their opponents were garbed in green, a stylized, deep-rooted tree emblazoned on their chests. Their voices were low but sharp, their hands resting near a collection of blades and cudgels at their belts. A silent war of attrition was waged just meters from the city's ingress.
Mu Yan guided Qin Ying toward the side, their movements slow and deliberate, aiming to dissolve into the flow of travelers without incident. They reached the checkpoint, a line of guards in polished steel armor bearing the city's sigil—a stylized fortress wall. The men's gazes were sharp, missing nothing. One of them, a man with a jaw like a block of granite, stepped forward, his hand raised. His eyes raked over their torn clothes and dirt-streaked faces.
"Identification tablets. And two copper for the entry toll." His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.
Mu Yan met the guard's gaze without flinching. He gestured vaguely back the way they came. "We have no tablets. We've traveled a long way, from a village deep in the wilds. This is my first time seeing a city."
The guard's expression remained unchanged, but his eyes softened a fraction. He looked from Mu Yan's steady expression to Qin Ying, who stood quietly, her presence a mix of weariness and apprehension. He scanned their empty hands, their lack of any significant possessions. Another guard leaned over. "They look like they went through quite a lot. Let them go, Harun. They can't afford the toll, and they don't look like trouble."
The first guard, Harun, grunted. He waved a dismissive hand. "Get through. Don't cause any problems."
A simple nod of thanks was all Mu Yan offered before he and Qin Ying stepped past the guards and through the great shadow of the gate.
Unseen by them, the curtain of a lavish carriage, pulled by a pair of magnificent horned horses, shifted slightly. A pair of eyes, cold and assessing, watched them pass from the checkpoint into the city proper. The gaze lingered, sharp and predatory, fixed on the girl at his side.