The gnarled root lay on the stone platform between us, an ugly, unassuming thing that had become the most terrifying object in the room. It was no longer just a piece of an herb; it was a key, a map, a tangible link to the phantom menace that had been lurking just beyond our perception. The silence in the forge was heavy, charged with the weight of our discovery.
"Jia Lie Bi," Ming said, breaking the silence. His voice was flat, stripped of all its usual levity. He was no longer the laid-back, confident powerhouse; he was an analyst assessing a critical threat. "The Galeo Clan's head alchemist. Why would his spiritual signature be on an herb sold in a Xiao Clan stall?"
"It's the only thing that makes sense," I reasoned, my mind racing to connect the dots. "This isn't just about a spy. The two traces being on the same item means there's a point of contact. The Galeo Clan's alchemist is either the Hall of Souls agent himself, or he is in direct league with the agent."
"So the clan war," Ming mused, "the price-cutting, the public animosity… it could all be a front. A distraction. While everyone is watching the two biggest families in the city tear each other apart, the Hall of Souls is moving in the background, using the chaos as cover."
"It's a classic strategy," I affirmed, my knowledge of Taigong Wang's tactical philosophies bubbling to the surface. "Create a loud, public conflict to draw the eyes of your enemies, while your true objective is achieved in the resulting confusion. We have to assume that everything happening in this city—the economic war, the timing of the Xiao Clan hunt—it might all be orchestrated by this single, hidden player."
The scope of the conspiracy was staggering. We had stumbled into a web far more intricate than we had ever imagined. Our problem was clear: our faceless ghost now had a potential name and face. But how could we confirm it? How could we possibly surveil a Tier 2 Alchemist, a public figure who was constantly surrounded by the guards and experts of the Galeo Clan? A direct approach was suicide.
"We can't get close to him," I stated the obvious. "But I don't need to get close to him. I just need another sample of his spiritual signature. One that is fresh, and undeniably his. If I can get my hands on one of the pills he's been selling and find both a perfect match for his signature and the trace of the Hall of Souls on it, then we have our confirmation."
"And how do we get one of his pills without him knowing we're interested?" Ming asked, already seeing the problem. "If either of us shows up at his stall, it'll ring every alarm bell in the city. The mysterious alchemist's daughter and her strange guardian suddenly buying a pill from their rival's chief alchemist? They'd know something was up immediately."
"We don't go," I said, a plan forming, a classic espionage gambit. "We hire someone who will. A cutout. An unaffiliated third party who has no idea who they're working for."
Ming's lips curled into a slow, appreciative smile. He understood. "A ghost's errand. I like it."
Our plan was simple in its design, but required precise execution. We would hire a low-level, down-on-their-luck mercenary, someone who needed the money and wouldn't ask questions. This mercenary would be given the funds to purchase a single, common healing pill from Jia Lie Bi's stall. The exchange of money and the retrieval of the pill would be handled through a "dead drop," ensuring no direct contact between us and our agent. To ensure the operation was clean, Ming would act as overwatch, shadowing the mercenary from the rooftops, using his Six Eyes to scan for tails or observers. It was a professional, discreet, and almost entirely risk-free operation.
That night, Ming slipped out of the pavilion. He returned an hour later, having found the perfect candidate in a seedy tavern known for being a hub for desperate sell-swords: a lone mercenary, a 3rd Duan Dou Zhe whose last job had gone sour, leaving him broke and eager for any work. Ming, cloaked and with his voice disguised, had made the deal. The mercenary was to purchase the pill tomorrow at noon and leave it at a pre-arranged dead drop location: inside a hollowed-out brick in the crumbling wall of a forgotten side alley.
The next day, the operation began. I remained in the forge, a knot of anticipation tightening in my stomach. Ming, clad in dark, non-descript clothes, moved like a phantom across the rooftops of Wu Tan City. From his high vantage point, the city was a tapestry of life and energy. He watched as our hired mercenary, a lanky man with a nervous tic, shuffled through the crowded marketplace.
Ming's Six Eyes were a formidable tool for this kind of work. He could see the flows of Dou Qi in the crowd, the powerful auras of the Galeo Clan guards, the faint, flickering energies of the commoners. He scanned for anyone paying undue attention to our mercenary, for any sign of surveillance. There was none. The mercenary was just another face in the crowd, too insignificant to warrant a second glance.
He watched as the man approached Jia Lie Bi's stall. The alchemist was there himself, preening under the attention of the crowd, his face a mask of smug superiority. The transaction was swift and unremarkable. The mercenary paid the coin and received a small, wax-paper-wrapped pill. He then departed, melting back into the throng.
Ming followed from above, a silent, unseen guardian angel. He watched as the mercenary navigated the twisting streets to the designated alleyway. The man quickly glanced around, saw no one, and deposited the small package into the loose brick. He then scurried away, his part in the drama complete.
Ming waited for a full ten minutes, his senses sweeping the area, ensuring the mercenary hadn't been followed and that no one else was observing the drop point. The area remained clear. Like a whisper of wind, he dropped from the rooftop into the alley, retrieved the package, and vanished as quickly as he had appeared. The entire operation had been executed with flawless precision.
He returned to the pavilion, placing the small, wax-paper-wrapped pill on the stone platform in front of me. The air in the forge was thick with anticipation. This unassuming little pill held the answer that could change everything.
"No complications," Ming said, his voice calm. "It was a clean run."
I nodded, my throat dry. I took a moment to center myself, then activated the "Soul-Guiding Hand." I reached out, my spiritual sense touching the pill.
The first thing I felt was the medicinal energy, a simple but well-balanced concoction of healing herbs. Layered over it, like a potter's signature on a piece of clay, was the spiritual imprint of its creator. It was precise, methodical, and tinged with the faint heat of alchemical fire. I compared it to the second signature I had found on the gnarled root. It was a perfect, undeniable match. Jia Lie Bi had handled both.
Now for the real test. I pushed my senses deeper, past the alchemist's primary signature, searching for the fainter, more sinister trace beneath. My soul-sense combed through the pill's energy, searching for that sliver of absolute cold, that fragment of soul-devouring malice.
And then I found it.
It was faint, almost completely masked by Jia Lie Bi's own powerful imprint, but it was there. That same chilling, predatory energy signature. The unmistakable mark of the Hall of Souls.
The confirmation was absolute. It was not a coincidence. It was not a mistake.
Jia Lie Bi, the chief alchemist of the Galeo Clan, the man leading the economic war against the Xiao family, was definitively and inextricably linked to the Hall of Souls. He was either their agent, or he was in direct, willing contact with them.
The faceless phantom we had been hunting for weeks finally had a name and a face. And he was a man who stood at the very center of the city's open conflict, a wolf hiding in plain sight.
I opened my eyes and looked at Ming. I didn't need to speak. The look on my face, a mixture of cold horror and the thrilling excitement of a successful hunt, told him everything he needed to know.
"We found him," I whispered, the words feeling momentous.
The game had changed once again. Our enemy was no longer an unknown shadow. He was a known quantity, a target. And now, we had to decide what a pair of ghosts do when they've finally cornered their demon.