As Lin Xuan melted into the winding streets, the weight of his decision settled like a honed blade at his side. Ironcliff's corruption had festered too long, Gao Wen's rule a blight that threatened the fragile balance he sought to nurture for his clan.
Thorne first—ambush in the brothel's haze, where guards were lax and witnesses drowned in ale. A swift takedown, qi-sealed meridians to prevent cries, then interrogation in some forgotten corner. The captain's boasts would yield Gao Wen's vulnerabilities: patrol schedules, manor layouts, the lord's personal habits. With that knowledge, the neutralization would be surgical—slip past outer defenses under cover of night, strike before the rooster crowed.
The market district lay quiet now, stalls shuttered and lanterns dimmed, the earlier bustle a fading echo. Lin Xuan moved with predatory grace, his gray robes blending into the gloom, aura suppressed to a mere whisper. No trace of the guard he'd humbled earlier lingered; the man's retreat had been hasty, but reinforcements might stir by now.
He veered eastward, toward the Crimson Lotus, its garish red lanterns a beacon amid the residential sprawl. The brothel squatted at the quarter's edge, a two-story affair of carved wood and silk drapes, laughter and moans spilling from open windows like illicit invitations.
He circled the building once, senses attuned to the flow of qi within—scattered early Qi Refining auras from patrons and working girls, nothing formidable. Thorne's description matched the tales: a hulking figure at a corner table, scarred cheek illuminated by candlelight, a tankard in one meaty hand and a painted woman's arm draped over his shoulder.
The captain's laughter boomed, slurred with drink, as he regaled his companions with exaggerated exploits."...and the lord says to me, 'Thorne, you're the only one I trust with the vaults!' Ha! While you lot chase shadows, I'm countin' the gold!"
Lin Xuan waited in the alley's mouth, timing his approach to the brothel's rear entrance where servants dumped refuse. The stench of rot lingered, masking presence and sound alike.
A shadowed figure emerged—Thorne, staggering out for a piss, his bladder demanding relief amid the revelry.
Perfect.
Lin Xuan struck.
A palm to the neck—precise, controlled—his qi slipping into the man's meridians like a silent lock, sealing his voice before it could even form a scream. Thorne's eyes bulged, instinctively trying to shout, but nothing came.
The tankard slipped from his hand.
Clatter.
Before reaction could follow, Lin Xuan's knee drove into his gut, folding the man in half. Air fled his lungs in a silent gasp. A sharp chop to the temple followed—clean, efficient.
The large body collapsed.
Unconscious.
Dragged.
Gone.
Minutes later, in a derelict shed not far from the brothel, the world returned to Thorne in fragments.
Pain.
Weight.
Darkness.
And then—
Breath.
Sharp. Ragged.
He tried to move.
Couldn't.
His wrists were bound tight behind him, ankles secured, body pinned to rough wooden planks. A presence loomed over him—cold, unmoving.
Lin Xuan.
A single dim lantern cast shadows across his face, making his expression unreadable.
Only his eyes remained clear.
Calm.
Still.
Dangerous.
"Wake up, Captain," Lin Xuan said softly, his voice neither loud nor hurried.
Thorne groaned, struggling.
"You… bastard… do you know who I—"
A dagger pressed into his cheek, slicing just enough to draw blood.
Not deep.
Just enough.
"I know exactly what you are," Lin Xuan replied.
A pause.
"Now speak."
Thorne spat to the side, rage flickering through fear. "Go to hell—"
The dagger moved.
This time, not a graze.
A slow cut across his forearm.
Controlled.
Measured.
Deliberate.
The pain hit immediately.
A muffled scream tore from his throat—cut short as Lin Xuan's qi tightened around his vocal meridians again, suppressing the sound into a strained wheeze.
"You misunderstand your position," Lin Xuan said, almost conversationally.
His hand shifted, pressing down on Thorne's chest, pinning him further.
"You are not here to resist."
Another cut.
Not random.
Placed.
Strategic.
Nerve-rich areas.
Enough to hurt.
Not enough to kill.
Yet.
Sweat beaded instantly across Thorne's face.
"Guards," Lin Xuan said. "How many in the manor?"
Silence.
The dagger pressed deeper.
"Twenty…" Thorne gasped. "Twenty… rotating shifts…"
"Strength."
"Qi Refining… most of them…"
A pause.
Lin Xuan tilted his head slightly.
"Most?"
The dagger shifted—this time pressing against the man's throat.
Thorne's breathing turned frantic.
"There—there used to be more…"
"Explain."
Another slow slice, this time across the shoulder.
Thorne broke.
"There was… a guard… stronger… Peak Foundation Establishment…"
Lin Xuan's eyes sharpened.
"And?"
"He's gone!" Thorne blurted. "Not here anymore!"
"Why?"
"Cost… too expensive…!" His voice trembled. "That kind of guard isn't permanent—they're assigned by higher authority, but the city lord has to maintain their salary—Gao Wen didn't want to keep paying…"
A faint pause.
Lin Xuan processed it.
Greed.
Predictable.
"And now?"
"Highest… highest is Peak Qi Refining… no one stronger…"
For the first time, a subtle shift passed through Lin Xuan's gaze.
Not emotion.
Calculation.
Maybe a bit of ridicule.
Saves time.
"Sentries. Weak points."
"Eastern wall… after midnight… fewer rotations…"
" And the inner chamber?"
"Private… one attendant… no heavy guard presence… he trusts… trusts the outer perimeter…"
Another cut.
This one deeper.
Thorne screamed again, his voice choking under suppressed qi.
"His routines."
"Drinks after the eleventh hour… alone… always alone…!"
"Hidden arrays? Any traps or failsafes that he has boasted about, or you know of?"
"No… none…! He relies on people, not formations…!"
Lin Xuan studied him for a moment.
Breathing erratic.
Pulse unstable.
Eyes broken.
Truthful.
Useless now.
A brief silence settled in the shed.
Then—
A flicker.
A notification.
[You have killed a target of moderate informational value]
[+25 System Coins Awarded]
Total: 431 System Coins
Thorne's body went still.
The dagger withdrew cleanly.
No hesitation.
No excess.
Lin Xuan stood.
Greed and arrogance…
His thoughts moved quietly.
He removed his strongest defense to pocket coin.
A mistake.
One that would cost him everything.
Lin Xuan stepped out of the shed, the night air greeting him once more.
The city remained unaware.
Unchanged.
For now.
But not for long.
His hand brushed lightly against the hilt of his sword.
First hunt.
His gaze shifted toward the distant silhouette of the manor, barely visible under torchlight.
No longer uncertain.
No longer cautious.
Now—
Calculated.
Prepared.
No need for excessive planning.
No need for contingencies meant for stronger opponents.
Just execution.
Clean.
Efficient.
Final.
And with that—
Lin Xuan moved.
Into the night.
Toward the manor.
Toward Gao Wen.
Toward the end of his first true target in this world.
Time to hunt...