Seven days after the Lin Clan's secret council, Elder Lin Feng descended into the eastern hills. The mist here was thick, clinging to stone. He moved alone through Widow's Ravine—a narrow fissure where sunlight never touched the floor.

  Lin Feng arrived at the predetermined meeting point, a small clearing where overhead cliffs nearly met. Water dripped steadily from somewhere above, each drop echoing through the ravine.

  From beneath a jagged stone overhang, a figure stepped forward. This was Scarred Fang. A jagged scar ran from his left temple down to his jaw, twisting his face into a permanent half-smile. He wore dark robes that had seen years of hard use, patched and faded.

  At his feet, a black-furred spirit beast prowled in a slow circle around Lin Feng. Its eyes glowed violet. Lin Feng remained still, his hands folded within his sleeves. He tracked the beast's movement with only his eyes.

  "You Lin people are punctual," Scarred Fang said. "That means you're either confident or desperate. Which is it?"

  "The Lin Clan has business to discuss. Are you interested in profit, or should I take this elsewhere?"

  Scarred Fang's gaze flicked to the quality of Lin Feng's robes before returning to his eyes. "Depends on the work. What's worth dragging me out to this freezing hole?"

  "The Huo Clan discovered a spirit stone vein in the eastern sector. We want their mining operations disrupted. Make it unprofitable for them to continue."

  The spirit beast growled low. Scarred Fang raised a hand, and the creature fell silent. "Disruption work." Scarred Fang's eyes gleamed. "That's delicate and expensive."

  "Name your price."

  "One thousand low-grade spirit stones upfront. Five hundred per successful operation. Forty percent of whatever my people take."

  Lin Feng's expression remained unchanged. "Ridiculous. You're pricing yourself out of work."

  Scarred Fang grinned, showing teeth. "Then find someone else willing to poke a clan with three Foundation Establishment experts for pocket change."

  Silence stretched between them. Water continued to drip from above. The spirit beast had stopped circling and now sat at Scarred Fang's feet, watching Lin Feng. "Five hundred upfront. Three hundred per operation. Twenty percent of seized goods."

  Scarred Fang studied him for a long moment, then barked out a laugh. "You high-born types really do think you're better than everyone."

  He scratched his jaw. "Fine. But I want one hundred stones extra for every one of my people who comes back injured. Performance bonus."

  "Acceptable."

  "And captives?"

  "Ransom anyone with valuable spirit roots back to the Huo. The rest are yours to handle."

  Scarred Fang gestured toward the shadows behind him. Three figures detached themselves from the darkness along the ravine walls.

  They'd been there the entire time, hidden and watching. "My lieutenants," Scarred Fang said casually. "Just making sure you came alone. Can't be too careful with clan folk."

  Lin Feng's fingers twitched slightly within his sleeves. Scarred Fang's spirit beast rose and padded closer, close enough that Lin Feng could feel its hot breath. The creature's violet eyes locked onto his face, and a low growl rumbled in its throat. Lin Feng ignored it completely.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  "One more thing," Scarred Fang said, his voice dropping. "If the Huo send their Foundation Establishment experts after us, we disappear. My people survive because we know when to fight and when to run. We're not dying for your schemes."

  "Then don't give them reason to send their experts. Keep it controlled."

  Scarred Fang whistled sharply, and his spirit beast padded back to his side. "Seven days to position our people. After that, the eastern hills become very uncomfortable for the Huo Clan."

  Lin Feng extended his hand. A grey blood-binding talisman materialized in the air between them—plain and neutral, bearing no clan insignia. Both men pricked a finger with a sharp flick of Qi and pressed blood to the paper's surface. The talisman flared with crimson light, pulsed three times, then dissolved into scattered motes of Qi that faded completely.

  "Contract sealed," Scarred Fang said. "We'll send word when it's done. Until then, keep your people out of the eastern sector."

  Lin Feng turned and walked back into the swirling mist. His footsteps faded quickly.

  Scarred Fang called out after him. "Arrogant bastard." The echo carried through the ravine, but Lin Feng was already gone.

  Scarred Fang looked down at his spirit beast, then toward his three lieutenants who emerged fully from the shadows. All three were hardened cultivators at the eighth or ninth layer of Qi Refining, their faces weathered by years of survival.

  "You heard the deal," Scarred Fang said. "Start moving people into position. I want eyes on the Huo supply routes by tomorrow evening."

  "And if their Foundation experts come?" one lieutenant asked.

  Scarred Fang's scarred face twisted into a cold smile. "Then we vanish. We're here for profit, not heroic deaths."

  He turned toward the deeper shadows. "The Huo got comfortable with their new vein. Time to remind them that comfort costs blood." The three lieutenants nodded and melted back into the darkness. Scarred Fang remained for a moment, his hand resting on his spirit beast's head. The panther purred.

  "Seven days," he murmured. "Then we see how much they're willing to bleed."

  The Huo Clan Grounds – Evening

  Huo Chen sat cross-legged in his chamber, eyes closed. Through his clone's senses, images flooded his mind. The clone was positioned in a shallow crevice on the eastern ridge, hidden within the rock itself.

  A rogue camp sat barely concealed beneath a rocky overhang about fifty paces away. Seven cultivators around a small, smokeless fire. Sixth and seventh layer Qi signatures.

  One of them, a lean man with a braided topknot, was sharpening a curved blade. "How many supply wagons per week?"

  "Three, sometimes four," another replied, consulting a crude map on leather. "Dawn departure, midday arrival at the mine, back before dusk. Six or seven guards per convoy."

  "Easy," the first man grinned. "Hit them on return when they're tired and loaded. Three hundred stones per raid plus whatever we carry."

  A woman with short hair laughed. "Huo disciples are already nervous. Doubling patrol sizes. Makes them slower." "When do we move?"

  "Three more days. Boss wants positions confirmed first. Then we hit hard—make them bleed enough to pull back from the vein entirely."

  The others murmured agreement. Huo Chen's eyes snapped open in his chamber. His heart pounded.

  Three days. He stood and moved to the center of his room.

  He needed to test something. Huo Chen focused his will on the clone and pulled.

  The world shifted. One moment he stood in his chamber, the next he crouched in the rocky crevice. Cold wind bit his face. Pine and stone filled his lungs. The rogue camp was less than fifty paces away, voices carrying clearly.

  "What the"— He looked down at his hands.

  Real. Solid. He was actually here, twenty li from his chamber. And back in his chamber, the clone now stood where he'd been. A laugh escaped him before he could stop it.

  He actually teleported. Just like that. He focused again and pulled. The world shifted. He was back in his chamber, warm behind barred doors. The clone had returned to the crevice seamlessly.

  Huo Chen tried it again, faster this time. Chamber to ridge. Ridge to chamber. Back and forth. Each transition smoother than the last.

  "This is insane," he muttered, grinning despite himself. Twenty li range. Instant swap. Any ambush meant for him would hit empty air. Any trap would close on stone instead of flesh.

  Let them plan whatever they wanted. He could just vanish. Huo Chen sat down slowly, his heart still racing from the discovery.

  Three days until the first attack. The rogues would hit supply convoys first—easy targets, high reward. After that, they'd escalate. He walked to his storage pouch and pulled out his supplies. Five mid-grade spirit stones, a basic healing pill and emergency communication talismans.

  When the attacks began—and they would begin soon—he'd be ready. His hands moved through cultivation forms, Qi flowing steadily. Outside his window, the mountain loomed in darkness.