Jiang watched the guard captain slip through the polished double doors, shadows curling absently at his feet.

As directed, the man left the doors open, which meant Jiang got to see the exact moment the Broker looked up from a desk cluttered with scrolls and spotted him. For a heartbeat, the man froze.

"What in the hells—" he began, voice sharp with alarm.

Jiang wasn't going to lie – he found that reaction very satisfying.

The captain moved quickly across the room, dipping his head and lowering his voice as he bent toward the Broker's ear. Jiang narrowed his eyes, pushing a trickle of Qi toward his ears.

"He came up through the cistern, sir. There's no sign of the cultivators you sent down there. Killed two of my men that I saw, probably killed Wan in the basement as well."

There was a long, heavy silence.

"And Teng Min?" the Broker finally asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

"He left this morning, sir. Said something about… the Qi being unsuitable in the city? He said not to expect him back for three days."

"Useless," the Broker hissed, running a hand over his face. His gaze flicked back to Jiang. For a moment he simply stared, lips tight, weighing options.

Then he leaned closer to the captain, speaking in a hush that had Jiang straining to overhear. "I'll deal with him," he said. "I want you to fetch the city guard, tell them there's been a break-in or something. I don't care what, just get them down here. And send a runner to the Quiet Scroll, with instructions to inform Mistress Bai that a cultivator is breaking the rules."

Jiang tensed. That… was potentially very bad. He could handle the city watch – long enough to flee, at the very least – but a cultivator of her power was another matter entirely. He had to be gone before she arrived.

The guard captain nodded and turned to leave. As the man walked towards the doorway, a thought surfaced in Jiang's mind, simple and brutal.

Kill him.

It would be easy. A quick lunge, a blade between the ribs. No message would be sent. No city watch. No Mistress Bai. It was the clean solution. The easy option. The more powerful he became, the more often killing presented itself as the most efficient path.

He caught himself as the hand holding his sword twitched. Something about that thought felt… dark. Not just in the sense that it was a 'dark' thing to do, but in the sense that it felt like his Qi was tugging at him to move, to act. It reminded him of the way his Qi had shifted after killing Kaelen.

A jolt of ice ran down his back. Old Nan hadn't said anything about the Pact affecting his mind or actions – but then, why would she? He wasn't blind to the fact that she clearly had her own agenda. Until now, he hadn't been too bothered by the fact either. It made sense, and as far as he could tell, her agenda mostly involved teaching him how to cultivate using the Pact to spite the sects, with the side benefit of making sure her way of life didn't die out.

This… this was something he was going to have to figure out quickly. If cultivating was somehow twisting his thoughts, he needed to know about it before it was too late – and before it could possibly be a danger to his family.

The guard hurried past, not knowing how close he had just come to death.

The Broker waited until the captain's footsteps had faded down the stairs. The featureless bone mask turned fully toward Jiang, the empty eyeholes seeming to bore right through him.

"Well then, cultivator Jiang," he said, a forced note of civility in his tone. "Since you've gone to such effort to reach me… please, come in."

Jiang stepped into the study, his boots silent on the plush carpets. This office was all but indistinguishable from the one under the Bar, and he idly wondered if that was because the Broker preferred to work in a familiar environment, or if both were simply an image he wished to present.

"Have a seat," the Broker offered, gesturing to a padded chair opposite his desk. "Can I offer you some tea? Wine, perhaps? It has been a long and, I imagine, trying day for you."

Jiang didn't move. He watched as the Broker, with a sigh that was only slightly theatrical, reached up and removed his featureless wooden mask. The face beneath was disappointingly plain. A man in his middle years, with thinning hair, a soft chin, and the tired, perpetually worried eyes of a low-level merchant. He was the kind of man you would forget the moment he left a room. The kind of man who had clearly built his entire empire on being underestimated.

Honestly, the mask was far more memorable than the man. Jiang wondered if that was why the Broker had started wearing it – simply because it was more impressive.

"There," the Broker said, his voice losing its flat, masked tone and becoming that of a reasonable, slightly harried businessman. "No more masks between us. I must apologise for the… misunderstanding. Business, I'm afraid, sometimes creates these unfortunate conflicts of interest. The Iron Dogs were a means to an end, nothing personal."

"They took a friend of mine," Jiang said, his voice a low, cold thing. "But then, you already knew that, considering they got her name from you."

The Broker spread his hands in feigned helplessness. "It's true, I admit. But I assure you, it was nothing personal – simply business. I am an information broker, and an information broker that refuses to sell information doesn't stay in business for long."

"And the fact that they helped run your slaving operation?" Jiang asked, doing his best to stay calm now that he was aware there was a possibility of his cultivation affecting his mentality. Probably a lost cause, considering the way the shadows in the room snapped and writhed despite his calm tone.

The Broker stiffened. "Calling it my slaving operation is inaccurate," he said somewhat hastily. "I certainly didn't start it, and I'm not the one who organises raids or coordinates the bandit groups. Slavery was a facet of life long before I came along. The city runs on such arrangements, whether polite society wishes to acknowledge it or not. Someone must provide the introductions, make the connections. I merely… smooth the process."

The shadows stirred behind Jiang, long and jagged, though he hadn't willed them to. He exhaled slowly, tightening his grip on his sword hilt. "You make it sound noble."

"Not noble," the Broker refuted. "Never noble. Practical. The world is built on trade, Jiang. Qi stones, grain, flesh – it's all currency. Would you fault a merchant for selling what the market demands?"

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Jiang's jaw clenched, fighting his initial reaction. "I'd fault him for selling people like cattle."

The Broker gave a sad little shrug. "Morality is a luxury of the powerful. You'll learn that in time, if you haven't already. You wouldn't be standing here otherwise. How many have you killed to reach me? Five? Ten? And all of them thought their lives precious too."

The words bit harder than Jiang expected. He thought of the guard captain brushing past him, alive only because Jiang had forced himself to stop. His fingers twitched again. Was it his choice, or was the Pact tugging at him? Was sparing the captain strength – or weakness?

"You seem troubled," the Broker observed softly. "Which tells me you're not the kind of man who enjoys killing. That's good. You'll go further than most. Believe me, the reckless ones burn out quickly. You—" He tapped a finger against his desk, eyes sharp. "You're clever enough to last."

"Don't pretend you know me," Jiang snapped. The idea of the Broker complimenting him did nothing to help his uncertainty about his recent actions.

"Oh, but that's my business," the Broker replied smoothly. "Knowing people. Knowing their needs, their weaknesses. Yours is simple – you want your family. I can help you with that. More than anyone else in this city."

"And I'm supposed to just trust you? You've had me running around chasing bandit groups you knew wouldn't have the information I need."

The Broker's smile didn't falter, though the lines at his eyes deepened. "And what, pray tell, is your alternative? Cutting me down where I sit? Because corpses don't talk. And men like me? We leave our secrets buried in places only we can reach. Kill me, and your family may well be forever out of your grasp."

This time Jiang didn't bother restraining his response. "There's a lot I can do short of killing you."

The Broker stilled. His fingers curled once, then relaxed. "So there is," he admitted, voice thinner now. "But you don't strike me as that kind of person – if for no other reason than you are pragmatic enough to realise you would have no way of verifying any information you got from me."

…Jiang actually hadn't thought that far ahead, though in fairness, he probably would have before he'd actually done anything that couldn't be taken back.

The fact that he couldn't be entirely sure that he wouldn't do something like that was not a comforting realisation – because he was self-aware enough to know that, even six months ago, he never would have considered torture as a viable option regardless of the circumstances.

"Desperation changes people," he said simply.

The Broker swallowed nervously. "Indeed. Which is why it's in my best interest to give you what you need – but naturally, you don't trust me. And I would not trust a man who just tore through my security to simply walk away once he has what he wants."

That was… reasonable, Jiang was forced to admit, even if only to himself.

"So where does that leave us?"

"That leaves us turning to a third party," The Broker leaned back in his chair, the picture of a man reclaiming control. "My man has already been sent to request Mistress Bai's presence. She will oversee our exchange. In her presence, I cannot lie about the information I give you, for her reputation would be tarnished if she were seen to broker a false deal – and I assure you, she is not a woman I am willing to cross." He chuckled dryly. "My forces couldn't even stop you from reaching me – they wouldn't even slow her down. And in return, you," he gave Jiang a thin, knowing smile, "will not be able to go back on your word once it is given before a cultivator of her standing. Thus, you are assured of the veracity of the information you receive, and I am assured of my life."

Jiang scowled as his mind raced. He hated the idea of it for multiple reasons – not only did it feel like the Broker was getting away with what he'd done, but Mistress Bai was not someone Jiang wanted to be around. She was, as far as he knew, the most powerful independent cultivator in the city. Even if she wasn't the most powerful, she was so far above him that it wasn't even funny.

And Old Nan had warned him about the Pact being easier to sense the more powerful he got. Mistress Bai hadn't noticed it the last time they'd spoken, but then he'd been several stages weaker back then. To say nothing of how she'd been suspicious of his rapid advancement, which had only gotten faster. It would be a miracle if she didn't instantly realise something was wrong, and she seemed the type of person to strike first and ask questions later.

Unfortunately… he couldn't think of a way around it. Even if he was willing to give in to his darker impulses – a dangerous prospect considering he wasn't sure those impulses were his at all – he didn't actually know the first thing about extracting information from an unwilling target. He had no skill in it, no knowledge of the techniques. He could break bones, cause pain, but that was a crude, inefficient tool. A man like the Broker would likely tell him a thousand lies just to make it stop, and he would have no way of knowing the truth from the fiction. He would be left with a broken man and a handful of useless, poisoned words.

He was trapped. Utterly and completely.

He couldn't even run away and try again later – the Broker would doubtlessly hire more cultivators to protect him, or simply vanish somewhere else in the city. Hells, he couldn't even contact Zhang to ask for help, certainly not before Mistress Bai arrived. There was a slim hope he could use the Azure Sky Sect token he still had to convince the Mistress to back off a little, but he didn't have much hope. At this stage, his best choice was to hope his stealth technique was enough to divert her attention until he could get away.

He exhaled, a sharp sound through his nose. "Convenient, that your plan requires me to sit still until someone much stronger than me shows up."

"Convenient for us both," the Broker countered smoothly. "You want certainty. I want survival. Mistress Bai provides both."

"Fine," Jiang said, the word tasting like ash. "We wait."

He stalked over to the padded chair the Broker had offered earlier and dropped into it, his sword resting across his knees. The Broker, for his part, was smart enough to keep quiet and return to the documents scattered across his desk. The faint scratching of his quill was the only sound in the tense, silent room.

Jiang closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to even out, and turned his focus inward. The anger was still there, a hot coil in his chest, but beneath it was a deeper, colder unease. The notion of killing the guard captain – a man who had done nothing to Jiang personally, and who had demonstrated an impressive degree of courage – had been so clear, so simple.

He replayed the moment in his mind, the way the hand holding his sword had twitched, the way his own Qi had seemed to surge in agreement with the murderous impulse. It had felt… natural. As natural as drawing a bow or tracking a deer.

He sifted through his Qi, searching for any foreign presence, any hint of the Raven's influence twisting his own thoughts. But there was nothing. The energy in his meridians was his own, dense and powerful after his recent breakthrough, but it held no alien will that he could detect.

The realisation was not comforting. Was it just him, then? Was this what power did? Strip away the complications, the messy, inefficient business of morality, and leave only the cleanest, most direct solution? The easy option. He thought of his life as a hunter. He had never enjoyed the kill, but he had never shied away from it. It was a necessity. The bandits, the Iron Dogs… their deaths had been necessary, a means to an end, a way to protect those he cared about. But the guard captain? Killing him would have just been… convenient.

No. That wasn't him – at least not solely. Jiang prided himself on the fact that he didn't shy away from difficult choices, but that didn't make them easy. The moment he'd killed Kaelen, he'd come to terms with the fact that there was little he wouldn't do to save his family, but acknowledging that fact didn't remove the uncertainty he felt every time he had to live up to his decision.

He thought back to the fight in the cistern. He'd wounded the woman in self-defence, a move he was still perfectly comfortable with. But after escaping and learning that he needed to kill at least the earth-alinged cultivator, he had circled back and put an arrow through her throat. At the time, it had seemed like the logical, practical choice. A hunter doesn't leave a wounded predator at his back.

But… was it? She was just a hired blade, an obstacle – an injured one at that. Was killing her necessary?

And even further back, to the Iron Dogs. He had stormed their den, fueled by a rage and guilt so profound it had burned away all caution. It had worked, but it had been reckless. He was winning these fights, but each victory felt messier, less like the clean necessity of a hunt and more like a chaotic, brutal scramble.

He had been so focused on moving forward, on taking the next step, that he hadn't stopped to look at the path he was carving through the world. Now, sitting here, trapped and waiting, he was forced to. And he wasn't entirely sure he liked what he was seeing.

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