"No living may claim offerings anymore," Lord Mingxiu said, and his voice cut the Hall like a command cutting rope.
Bai blinked, then smiled. "You mean no living may come to the gates and ask for payment?"
"He means no living," Hei answered. "No one with warm blood and a pulse."
Mingxiu did not elaborate. He raised a pale hand and flicked a silver seal into the space above the main dais.
The seal spun, then snapped flat against the ceiling with a sound like a coin slapped on wood.
Bai leaned forward, palms flat on the railing. "This will break the old order," he said aloud, as if tasting the words.
Hei's mouth went hard. "This will break us," he replied.
A courtier tried an objection. "My lord, offerings return to the Underworld by law—"
Mingxiu cut him off with a single curl of his fingers. "The law now says living hands cannot take those offerings." He tapped the seal twice. "Enforce it."
A ripple ran through the hall. Ministers moved from formal posture into hurried action.
"Do you realize what this does to price?" one merchant demanded.
"It ruins the livelihoods of gate attendants," another said.
"It will strand offerings on the thresholds," a pale clerk muttered. "They will rot if no one claims them."
Mingxiu's eyes did not leave the seal. "Then change the thresholds."
"Change them how?" Bai asked.
"Make offerings property of the Underworld. Make them accounted. Make them tax revenue." Mingxiu's
