[POV: Xiao Yan]
[Location: Wu Tan City Market Square]
The marketplace had become a battlefield—but the weapons were bottles and coin, not steel.
I adjusted the hood of my heavy black cloak, ensuring shadows swallowed my features completely. Under Teacher's guidance these past two months, I had mastered the fundamentals of flame control and medicinal alignment. Today marked our counteroffensive.
The Jia Lie Clan's cheap Spring Return Powder had strangled our clan's finances. Father's hair had greyed further with each ledger showing red ink. The weight of his burden pressed upon my shoulders.
"Teacher," I whispered inwardly, "is this price too low?"
"Profit is not the goal today, boy," Yao Lao's voice echoed in my mind, dry as desert wind yet laced with amusement. "We bleed the enemy. Your refined healing powders surpass anything that hack Liu Xi produces. Flood the market. Shatter their confidence."
I stood at a rented stall draped in black cloth. A crowd of mercenaries gathered, drawn by whispers of a "Mysterious Black-Robed Alchemist."
"Ten gold for a vial of healing powder!" a scarred mercenary barked, slapping coins onto my table.
"Sold," I rasped, sliding a jade vial across the wood.
As the mercenary departed, I tracked his path. He did not head toward the city gates for beast hunts. He turned toward the Primer Auction House.
"Strange," I murmured.
"What troubles you?" Teacher inquired.
"The elite mercenaries," I observed. "Those clad in Rank 2 armor—they purchase neither from me nor from Jia Lie."
My gaze sharpened. A burly captain emerged from the auction house, not carrying powder vials but a small wooden box stamped with a crimson seal.
"Crimson Wax," Teacher noted. "I have sensed its residue throughout the city. Exceptional purity. Hemostatic properties beyond common refinement."
"An alchemist's work?"
"No," Teacher mused, tone thoughtful. "It lacks the thermal signature of flame refinement. No fire qi permeates it. The alignment feels... cold. As if medicinal properties were forcibly harmonized through pressure alone. Devoid of soul-seal, yet purity absolute. A mechanical perfection."
"Who crafts it?"
"Likely the same hand that provided your energy conduit," Teacher replied. "The 'Purists.' It seems we are not alone in opposing Jia Lie. But this craftsmanship... heavy. Rigid. Distinct from the pill you received."
"Different?"
"The pill flowed like water. This wax stands like stone. Perhaps a different master from the same lineage?"
Relief warmed my chest. An ally—strange, cold, but an ally nonetheless.
"Let us finish here," I said. "I require ingredients for the next batch."
[POV: Xiao Ren]
[Location: Alleyway Behind Primer Auction House]
I stepped from the servant's entrance, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind me.
I was not Xiao Ren this evening. Nor the Nervous Courier.
I was Hei Tie—Black Iron.
Heavy leather armor beneath a thick grey cloak. Lead weights strapped to my boots, my gait a deliberate, ground-shaking rhythm. Shoulders squared to occupy space—a smith's apprentice or enforcer's lieutenant, not a clerk.
My meeting with Ya Fei had been fruitful. Crimson Wax sold out within hours. The Jia Lie Clan hemorrhaged coin, squeezed between Xiao Yan's affordable powders and my luxury goods—a pincer movement of market forces.
I checked my resources. Twenty-eight thousand gold coins. Liquid capital. Ready for deployment.
I turned toward the main thoroughfare, intending to vanish into the evening crowds and loop back to the warehouse.
The alley narrowed sharply, shadowed by the auction house's high walls—a natural choke point.
A figure rounded the far corner.
Clad in heavy black robes that drank the fading light.
I froze.
The protagonist.
Or rather, the "Mysterious Alchemist" whose appearance coincided precisely with Xiao Yan's recent absences from clan duties. I knew his identity. He did not know mine.
He halted as well.
Silence pooled between us—two disguised figures, both secretly laboring to preserve the same clan, locked in a silent assessment.
I could not appraise living beings. But fabric... fabric was permissible.
I focused upon the woolen cloak draping his shoulder.
[Item: Rough Black Woolen Cloak]
[Tier: 1]
[Quality: 40% (Worn)]
[Description: Standard cloak saturated with potent spiritual resonance. Radiates soul pressure equivalent to Dou Zun cultivation. Prolonged contact may induce disorientation in unshielded souls.]
Ohhh.
Dou Zun-level presence.
My internal calculations aligned the resonance with BTTH's hierarchy. A being who could level mountains with a sigh. And this fifteen-year-old cousin carried such a presence upon his person like a second shadow.
Well. The Fallen Genius trope, manifest. Of course the protagonist possessed a grandmaster mentor.
If that spirit wished it, my soul would unravel before I drew breath to scream.
I tightened my grip on the gold-filled sack beneath my cloak.
Stay in character, I reminded myself. Hei Tie is stone. Stone does not tremble.
[POV: Yao Lao]
[Location: Xiao Yan's Consciousness / Alley Perception]
The ancient spirit extended his perception down the alley like ripples across a still pond.
He scanned the bulky figure standing in shadow.
"Heavy," Yao Lao observed to his disciple. "Thick armor. Lead weights. No alchemist's fire-scent. He reeks of wax and cold-forged iron."
"An enemy?" Xiao Yan's hand drifted toward the Heavy Xuan Ruler strapped to his back.
"Hold," the spirit commanded.
He inhaled through soul-perception, tasting the alley's air.
Gold. Crimson Wax. But no ozone-tang of the nervous courier who had delivered the energy conduit weeks prior.
"This is not the runner," Yao Lao decided. "That boy moved like a sparrow—light, skittish. This one moves like a landslide. Yet the 'scent of purity' upon his goods matches. Same lineage. Different hand."
"The Purists' enforcer?"
"Likely their smith or quartermaster. Dangerous in a blunt, physical way—not subtle like their courier."
[POV: Xiao Ren]
The black-robed figure did not attack. He stood motionless, humming with restrained power.
I seized initiative. Hei Tie would not yield ground.
"You block the path," I grunted, voice pitched to a gravelly bass that vibrated in my chest. No honorifics. No deference.
The black robe tilted slightly.
"The path is narrow," Xiao Yan replied, voice distorted by hood and intent. "Yet wide enough for those who share an enemy."
"Enemy?" I scoffed, shifting my weight so boot-heels crunched stone. "My master recognizes no allies. Only transactions."
"The flies grow bold," he said, gesturing vaguely toward the Jia Lie district. "Their buzzing disrupts commerce."
Ah. He acknowledged the pincer strategy.
"Flies crush easily," I replied. "My master prefers hammers to swatters."
"Hammers suffice," the black robe conceded dryly. "Though powder reaches further."
Tension dissolved—not into friendship, but professional respect between two forces pursuing parallel paths.
He pressed against the wall, granting me passage.
I advanced. Heavy, deliberate steps. Eyes fixed ahead—never upon him—as I passed within arm's reach.
One step. Two.
The Dou Zun-level soul pressure washed over me like standing beside a slumbering volcano. My skin prickled. Every hair stood erect. Not pain—presence. The weight of a mountain held in human form.
I reached the alley's end. Turned the corner.
Clear.
Thump. Thump.
Two distinct weights settled in my chest—solid, immediate.
[Feat Unlocked: Shadow's Acknowledgment]
[Reward: +2 Charges]
I slumped against the outer wall, exhaling a breath I hadn't realized I'd held.
"Two charges," I whispered. "High risk yields high return."
Hei Tie's persona held. The grandmaster had not pierced my disguise.
My reserve now stood substantial—daily accumulation over recent weeks plus Feat rewards had built a hoard sufficient for significant projects. The immediate concern was not the count, but the opportunity it represented.
But the war was not won.
I gazed toward the Jia Lie estate. Torches flared within its walls. Figures moved with purpose—guards assembling, weapons being distributed.
Ohhh. Desperation bred violence. When coin failed, steel would follow.
[POV: Jia Lie Bi]
[Location: Jia Lie Clan Hall]
"We bleed!" Jia Lie Bi roared, hurling a jade vase against the wall. Shards exploded across the floor like frozen tears.
The clan leader's face purpled with rage. "Our powders gather dust while that black-robed bastard undercuts us! And the elite captains? They purchase 'Crimson Wax' from Primer House! We are squeezed from both sides!"
Liu Xi, the alchemist, cowered in his corner. "I... I could lower prices further, but ingredients cost—"
"I have no coin to pay for ingredients!" Jia Lie Bi screamed. "The treasury empties by the hour! If we cannot turn profit by week's end, the mercenaries abandon us!"
He whirled toward his Captain of the Guard.
"Economics has failed us," Jia Lie Bi snarled. "We return to the sword's logic."
"Clan Leader?"
"Take every guard. Arm them with the new blades purchased from Black Iron Smithy. At dawn, provoke Xiao patrols in the market square. Kill them. Drive them from the streets. Control the thoroughfares, and no merchant dares trade with our enemies."
The captain grinned, fingers caressing the hilt of his gleaming new sword. "These blades feel eager, Leader. We shall paint the cobblestones red."
"Go," Jia Lie Bi hissed. "Let Wu Tan City remember the Jia Lie name."
[POV: Xiao Ren]
[Location: Warehouse Roof]
[Time: Midnight]
I sat upon the clay tiles, the city spread beneath me like a tapestry of light and shadow.
Movement stirred within the Jia Lie compound—squads forming, torches igniting, steel glinting beneath moonlight.
I focused my appraisal upon the weapons they carried.
[Item: Shatter-Steel Sword (+1)]
[Tier: 1]
[Quality: 100% (Sabotaged)]
[Description: A blade of beautiful betrayal. Internal stresses held in perfect equilibrium. Upon forceful impact against solid resistance, the blade will fragment into a storm of razor-sharp shards.]
They armed themselves with my creations. Unaware they carried not weapons, but delayed judgments.
I took a slow sip from my water flask. The liquid cooled my throat.
"Tomorrow," I whispered to the night wind, "the debt comes due."
I had manipulated their supply chain. Fed them poison disguised as strength. Now they marched to war clutching glass swords.
My charge reserve stood ready. The aftermath would bring chaos—questions, suspicion, the inevitable search for the hidden hand behind Jia Lie's collapse.
"I require an exit strategy," I decided.
Wu Tan City could no longer contain my growth. Tier 2 Fire Cores for cultivation advancement. Tier 3 materials to test the third slot of my ability. These lay not in markets, but in the wild places—the Magic Beast Mountain Range.
It was time to prepare for departure.
But first—tomorrow's reckoning.
I stood, brushing dust from my robes. The moon cast my shadow long across the tiles—a slender silhouette against the vast night.
Well. Two shadows had met in an alley tonight. Two hands working separate looms, weaving threads that would soon converge into a single tapestry.
[Omake: The Hinges]
[POV: Deacon Gu]
[Location: Warehouse Office]
Three days after the market square incident, Deacon Gu approached his office door at dawn—exhausted from inventory counts, shoulders slumped with the weight of the clan's fragile recovery.
He reached for the handle.
Click-whirr.
The sound was wrong.
Not the familiar gritty scrape of worn iron. This was a soft, multi-layered whisper—like silk sliding over polished jade.
He pushed the door open.
It swung without resistance. Without squeal. Without the slightest tremor. The hinges moved with impossible smoothness, as if oiled by celestial hands.
Deacon Gu blinked. Pushed the door closed.
Click-whirr.
It settled into its frame with perfect alignment—no gap at the top, no drag at the bottom. Absolute harmony.
He stared at the hinges as if they held cosmic secrets.
A slow, dawning realization filled his chest.
He marched to the warehouse floor. Found Xiao Ren sweeping near the eastern wall.
"Boy," Deacon Gu said, voice uncharacteristically quiet.
Xiao Ren turned, bowing slightly. "Deacon?"
"These hinges," Deacon Gu pointed toward his office. "They... whirr now."
Xiao Ren's expression remained placid. "I applied oil during yesterday's maintenance cycle, Deacon. As instructed."
"Oil doesn't make hinges whirr like spirit mechanisms!" Deacon Gu insisted. Then his eyes widened. "You didn't... polish them?"
"I merely ensured functional integrity, Deacon."
Deacon Gu stepped closer, lowering his voice. "The abacus calculates perfectly. The broom sweeps with unnatural efficiency. The lock clicks like a treasure vault. The hinges whisper like silk."
He studied Xiao Ren's face—the calm eyes, the untroubled posture.
"You are not a clerk," Deacon Gu whispered, not with accusation, but awe. "You are... an artisan. A refiner of small things."
Xiao Ren tilted his head. "I sweep floors, Deacon. Nothing more."
Deacon Gu nodded slowly. Backed away. Returned to his office.
He closed the door.
Click-whirr.
A slow smile spread across his face. Not fear. Reverence.
"Tomorrow," he whispered to the empty room, "I shall request he 'maintain' the clan's main gate hinges."
Xiao Ren, sweeping quietly in the distance, allowed himself a faint, private smile.
Ohhh. Recognition was not exposure. Sometimes, being seen clearly was safer than being ignored.
And sometimes—the simplest click-whirr held more power than a shouted technique name.
13 Charges Banked