Chapter 16 (Arc 2 – Chapter 1): The Price of a Breath
Three days after the incident at Mist Valley Village.
Inside a damp limestone cave, nearly a hundred li from Yan Clan territory, Yan Kesh sat cross-legged. The dying glow of the campfire cast his shadow against the stone wall—a hunched, fragile silhouette.
"Cough!"
The sound wasn't loud, yet it grated painfully, as if coarse sand were scraping against his throat.
He pressed a hand to his chest. The suffocating tightness was no longer temporary.
The corrosive poison incident in the village had been resolved through Deferred Retribution, but every transaction had its price. The capacity of his lungs had been permanently reduced. Each breath he drew now felt slightly shorter than that of an ordinary human.
Within his mind, The Audit lay open. Its pages had grown calmer, yet a single line continued to flicker faintly in the lower right corner.
[DAILY EXISTENCE COST]
[Body Status: Damaged (Lungs 95%, Meridians Severed)]
[Vitality Consumption: Increased by 0.1% per hour]
[Transaction Balance: ZERO]
Yan Kesh read it with an icy gaze.
"Inflation," he muttered.
Without cultivation to nourish his body, and with accumulated damage, his flesh now demanded more energy merely to remain alive. If he stayed idle, he would slowly die from what could only be described as energetic bankruptcy within a year.
"Young Master Yan?"
He Qiu's voice broke his train of thought. The youth entered the cave carrying two river fish that had already been cleaned. His appearance had changed. The blue robes of the Iron River Clan were long gone, replaced by coarse burlap garments looted from bandits. The innocence in his eyes had faded, replaced by sharp vigilance.
"You're spacing out again, Young Master," He Qiu said as he skewered the fish over the fire. "Does… the injury still hurt?"
"Just a reminder," Yan Kesh replied flatly, accepting one of the fish. "What's the situation outside?"
"Quiet," He Qiu reported. "But I heard rumors from a traveling merchant on the footpath. The Yan Clan and the Iron River Clan have begun sending scouts into Black Mist Forest. They're searching for the cause behind the deaths of the Black Vein Sect disciples."
Yan Kesh bit into the bland river fish without expression.
"Good. Let them hunt ghosts."
"Young Master…" He Qiu hesitated. "We've already fled far enough. We have looted money. We have medicine. Why don't we go to a neutral city and live peacefully? With your ability to manipulate… fate, you could become a wealthy physician or merchant."
Yan Kesh stopped chewing. His gaze settled on the campfire.
A peaceful life?
For ordinary people, that was a dream. But for Yan Kesh, who held The Audit, peace was equivalent to death.
The system in his mind thrived on imbalance. He needed the sick to heal—transactions. He needed the wicked to destroy—transactions. He needed conflict. Without it, he had no leverage against his own mortality.
"He Qiu," Yan Kesh said softly, "do you know why the wealthiest merchants never stop doing business, even when they have enough money for seven generations?"
"Because… they're greedy?"
"No. Because capital that lies dormant is capital that dies." Yan Kesh tossed the fish bones into the fire. "My power doesn't come from meditating atop a silent mountain. It comes from chaos."
Yan Kesh rose to his feet. His gaunt figure appeared taller in the flickering firelight.
"We're not retiring. We're looking for a new market."
"A market?" He Qiu was confused.
"A place where the desperate gather. A place where lives are cheap, and the desire to live is exorbitantly expensive."
Yan Kesh took out a tattered map he had looted from the corpse of the Black Vein Sect's leader. He pressed a finger to a barren borderland that major clans avoided due to the lack of spirit stone mines.
The Ash Vein Mountains.
"Here," Yan Kesh said, tapping the map. "There's a minor sect called the Ash Vein Sect. It's a dumping ground of a sect. Criminals, failed cultivators, cripples clinging to life through heretical methods."
"That sounds dangerous, Young Master," He Qiu swallowed.
"Exactly." Yan Kesh curved his lips into a thin smile. "The crippled and the desperate make the best customers. They don't care about the price, as long as they can be healed."
"We're going there. Not as disciples…"
Yan Kesh's eyes glinted coldly.
"But as consultants."
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