Chapter 10: Shadows in Jade Moon Town
Day 25. My clone's awareness pulses stronger than usual.
Something's changed in Jade Moon Town. The fragmented impressions that normally drift to me like background noise sharpen into focus—urgency without words, alarm without details.
I'm in morning cultivation when the full memory transfer hits.
CLONE #2 - THREE DAYS AGO (Day 22)
The merchant identity had worked perfectly for three weeks. "Gu Yue Chen" was known now—friendly trader, good prices, reliable information about market trends. Old Wu had become a regular contact, their evening drinking sessions a comfortable routine.
Tonight, Old Wu was nervous.
The clone noticed the tells: excessive drinking, darting eyes, hands that trembled slightly when pouring wine. Standard anxiety markers.
"Business troubles?" The clone kept its voice casual, concerned.
"Ah, nothing serious." Old Wu waved dismissively. "Just a client getting demanding. You know how it is."
"Demanding how?"
Old Wu hesitated. The clone had built enough trust over weeks that the merchant wanted to confide. But caution warred with alcohol.
Caution lost.
"Between you and me?" Old Wu leaned closer. "I do some... information trading. Side business. Usually harmless stuff—who's advancing in cultivation, which students show promise. There's a market for it."
The clone nodded sympathetically. "Intelligence work. Risky but profitable."
"Exactly!" Relief flooded Old Wu's features. Someone understood. "Been doing it for years. But lately, the client's getting specific. Wants detailed reports on certain students. Movement patterns, habits, vulnerabilities."
"That sounds more like assassination preparation than market intelligence."
Old Wu's face paled. "I... I don't ask questions. The pay is too good."
The clone poured more wine, mind calculating. "Which clan is buying?"
"Bai Clan." The words came out rushed, guilt-driven. "Through intermediaries, but I know the source. They're targeting Gu Yue students with 'statistical anomalies'—that's what they call it. Anyone who might become a threat if they advance too far."
Great Sage logged everything. "Intelligence confirmation: Bai Clan conducting pre-emptive elimination operations. Target selection: Students with exceptional potential or unusual behavioral patterns. Probability host Mo Bei flagged as anomaly: 91.4%."
"How do they decide who's an anomaly?" The clone kept drinking, kept the conversation flowing.
"Pattern breaks. Students who advance faster than expected, fight above their rank, demonstrate unusual Gu techniques." Old Wu laughed bitterly. "Even deliberate mediocrity can be suspicious if it's too consistent. The analysts look for anything that doesn't fit standard curves."
Deliberate mediocrity. Mo Bei's exact strategy.
The clone smiled, laughed at Old Wu's jokes, and filed away every word.
Back in my dormitory, I process the transferred memory. My hands are shaking.
"Analysis: Assassination attempt source confirmed. Bai Clan intelligence network identified host as statistical anomaly despite camouflage efforts. Methodology: Consistent performance suggesting calculated strategy rather than genuine limitation. Irony: Attempting to appear unremarkable made host remarkable. Current threat assessment: Ongoing. Additional attempts: Highly probable."
My strategy to survive made me a target. Perfect.
Day 26. I attend classes on autopilot while Great Sage runs probability trees on how to handle Old Wu.
Option A: Have the clone expose him. Result: Network collapses, intelligence access lost, possible retaliation.
Option B: Have the clone befriend him deeper, become trusted enough to control information flow. Result: Intelligence access maintained, ability to feed false data to Bai Clan.
Option C: Eliminate Old Wu. Result: One threat removed, countless questions raised, clone cover potentially blown.
"Recommendation: Option B. Maximize strategic value while maintaining operational security."
The clone receives new orders through our connection: Deepen friendship with Old Wu. Become indispensable. Control the flow.
Day 27. Academy.
Gu Yue Qing Shu's rumor campaign has reached critical mass. I overhear three separate conversations about my "lack of ambition" and "administrative path considerations."
The gossip is precise, calculated to justify her rejection without overtly insulting me. She's good at social warfare—I'll give her that.
Great Sage catalogs the damage. "Reputation shift detected: -12% among peers, -8% among instructors, +3% among administrative staff (perceived as potential recruitment target). Net impact: Minimal. Host's deliberately mediocre positioning absorbs social attacks with negligible consequence."
The rumors strengthen my cover. Let her talk.
During afternoon formation practice, Fang Zheng approaches. "I heard what Qing Shu's been saying. Want me to talk to her? It's not right."
"Don't." I keep my tone flat. "She needs to justify her choice. Let her. It doesn't affect me."
"It should affect you. She's making you sound—"
"Mediocre? Unambitious?" I meet his eyes. "Maybe I am. Maybe that's fine."
He looks troubled but drops it. Righteous people struggle with accepting tactical losses.
That evening, Qing Shu finally approaches Fang Zheng directly. I watch from across the training yard—her smile genuine for the first time in weeks, his surprise and pleasure obvious.
They talk for twenty minutes. By the end, they're laughing together.
"Relationship formation detected: Fang Zheng and Gu Yue Qing Shu. Romantic development probability: 83.7%. Strategic impact on host: Neutral to positive. Fang Zheng's attachment to host strengthens through perceived support of his happiness."
Pieces moving on the board. Exactly as planned.
Day 28. Medical tent.
The training injury is minor—shallow cut on my forearm from a practice blade. But Shen Cui calls me over personally instead of sending an assistant.
She treats the wound in silence, her healing Gu warm against my skin. The cut seals cleanly.
Then she asks: "Why do you flinch at sounds no one else hears?"
I freeze.
"And why," she continues quietly, "do you watch the academy entrances like you're expecting attacks that never come? And why does your merchant friend from Jade Moon Town—the one I saw you talking to last week when I was visiting family—have your exact mannerisms? The way you tilt your head when thinking. The specific pause before answering questions."
She saw the clone. She's been watching me for weeks.
"Distant cousin," I say carefully. "Family resemblance."
Her eyes are too knowing. "Distant cousins don't share mannerisms that precise. Those are learned behaviors, not genetic."
Silence. She's not accusing. Just observing. Waiting to see what I'll do with the information that she knows.
"Everyone has secrets," she says finally, finishing the bandage. "Yours are clearly complicated. Just... be careful with them. The world is dangerous enough without making it worse for yourself."
She walks away before I can respond.
"Assessment: Subject Shen Cui has identified clone connection (probability 76.4%). Has chosen non-confrontational approach suggesting: Genuine concern, respect for privacy, preference for host safety over satisfying curiosity. Threat level: Minimal. Ally potential: Significant."
She knows something's wrong with me. And she's choosing to let it be.
Why? Why does she care?
The question haunts me through the rest of the day.
SHEN CUI
Mo Bei was drowning in secrets, and they were going to kill him if someone didn't help.
Shen Cui had pieced together the evidence over weeks: the phantom pains, the hypervigilance, the impossible coincidence of a "distant cousin" who moved exactly like him. Add the pattern of near-misses with dangers that should have caught him, and the picture became clear.
He had some ability. Something that let him survive situations he shouldn't. Something that terrified him more than it helped him.
He's alone with it. Completely alone.
She couldn't force him to trust her. But she could make sure he knew the option existed when the loneliness became too much.
Healing wasn't always about closing wounds. Sometimes it was about showing someone that safety could exist.
Day 29 dawns.
One day left on the survival quest. Twenty-nine days of calculated mediocrity, paranoid caution, and strategic retreats.
My clone has identified the intelligence network. Shen Cui suspects my secrets. Qing Shu's rumors barely touch me. Fang Zheng trains with me regularly. And Fang Yuan watches from his position of absolute power, tolerating my existence because I might be useful.
"Probability of completing 'Survive First Month' quest: 97.3%. Outstanding threats: Bai Clan intelligence network (ongoing), unidentified assassin operative (active but currently unpositioned), Fang Yuan observation (passive but potentially lethal if host deviates). Overall survival outlook: Favorable with continued caution."
Ninety-seven percent. Better than the thirty-four percent I started with.
But Great Sage's final note chills me: "Warning: In this world, the most dangerous moments occur immediately after perceived safety. Recommend maximum vigilance during final 24-hour period."
Day 30 approaches. The finish line is visible.
And everything I've learned says that's exactly when things go wrong.
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