Jiang chewed his bread slowly, letting the noise of the inn wash over him.

  He felt… untethered.

  For weeks, the confrontation with the slaver had been the fixed point on his horizon. He had built it up in his mind – a battle, an interrogation, a rescue. He had prepared for violence. He had prepared for blood. Instead, he had walked into a quiet office, looked at a ledger, and walked out again. It felt like drawing a heavy bowstring to its limit, bracing for the recoil, and then having the string snap harmlessly in his hands.

  The lack of release left him feeling restless, his thoughts spinning in circles.

  After leaving Feng’s establishment, Jiang had wandered for nearly an hour without a clear direction, moving through streets that blurred together in his mind. In the end, he’d found this place in a cheaper district, away from the main roads and the tournament crowds. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was clean.

  He’d ended up paying for a week upfront. It was more than he normally would have committed to in an unfamiliar city, but considering his family had been claimed by a Sect, winning their freedom was not going to be a simple matter. At least the food here was decent enough – after weeks of dried jerky and hardtack, it might as well have been a banquet.

  Jiang tore off a chunk of the dense, greyish bread and used it to mop up the last of the gravy in his bowl. Around him, the common room of the Broken Wheel was a cacophony of noise. Travellers shouted over cups of watered-down wine, merchants haggled over imaginary profits, and the serving staff wove through the chaos with the harried expressions of people who were underpaid and overworked.

  Part of him, the part that was tired of thinking and plotting, just wanted to walk up to the front gate of the Ninefold Jade Sect and knock. In theory, it wasn’t a crime to ask to see one’s family. The Sect had purchased them legally; they weren’t criminals being hidden away. If he presented himself as a cultivator, a relative, surely they would grant a meeting?

  He snorted softly, drawing a glance from a man at the next table.

  No. That was naive.

  The Ninefold Jade Sect wasn’t a charity. They had bought his mother and sister because they saw value in them – specifically in Xiaoyu. They might be willing to grant a meeting, but they certainly wouldn’t be willing to just… let his family go. Not without seeing some kind of return on their investment – and that was ignoring the obvious problem that they were hardly going to let a Pact-bearer who all but delivered himself to them just wander away.

  He could use it, in an emergency. Trade his cooperation for his family’s freedom – pretty much exactly what he’d been planning to do with the Azure Sky Sect. But his reasons for slipping away from Li Xuan and Zhang were still just as valid now as they had been then. Not to mention that he couldn’t support them if he were bound to a Sect. And he had no illusions about what a Sect would do once it knew he cared about two particular mortals. They wouldn’t even need chains. They would just have to point a sword at his mother, and he would do whatever they wanted.

  He couldn’t risk it. Not until he knew the lay of the land.

  Really, his first step was clear; he needed to confirm that his family actually was there, and that they were safe. He couldn’t rely on Feng’s word alone. The slaver had been honest, he thought – if nothing else, the man had no reason to lie and every reason to tell the truth – but records could be faked, or outdated.

  But how was he supposed to confirm their presence without entering the Sect himself?

  Jiang gazed absently around the common room as he considered the matter. His eyes caught on the serving girl as she dodged the groping hand of a drunken mercenary with practised ease. She was invisible to most of the people in the room. Just a mechanism for delivering food and drink.

  Servants.

  The Ninefold Jade Sect would have hundreds of them. Cooks, cleaners, porters. People who moved in and out of the compound to buy supplies, to dispose of waste, to visit their own families in the city. If he could find one – someone who worked in the kitchens, or the laundry – he might be able to ask them about any recent arrivals to the Sect. Or better yet, get them to carry a message; if he could manage to set up a line of communication between them, it would greatly simplify the task of getting them out.

  It would cost him, though. While it was possible that he might be able to find a servant sympathetic enough to his situation to pass a message or look into things for free, it was far more likely that he would have to grease a few palms – and bribing a Sect servant wouldn’t be cheap. They would be risking their positions, perhaps even their lives, to help an outsider.

  He patted the pouch at his belt. He had enough for now, but if he was going to be here for weeks, bribing servants and paying for information, he would need more. Tomorrow, then, he would go to the markets and sell the two beast cores he had. That should give him a healthy chunk of gold, enough to at least get started. Then, he would find the Sect compound; not to enter, not yet, but to watch. To see where the deliveries came in and where the servants exited.

  The knot in his chest loosened slightly as the steps arranged themselves in his mind. Not because the problem was solved, but because it was no longer shapeless. He could do something with a list. He could act.

  A man at the next table slammed his cup down hard enough to slosh ale onto the wood. “I’m telling you,” he said, voice thick with drink, “the Ninefold’s putting up prize money that’ll make a merchant weep. You get through the first round, and you’re set for the year.”

  His companion snorted. “You? In the ring? They’d scrape you off the floor.”

  Jiang ignored them, but the word prize money lodged in the back of his mind anyway. He had no real desire to enter a tournament – and really, he wasn’t terribly skilled in fighting anyway – but it was worth keeping in mind. The fact that the city was going to be full of random cultivators could well work in his favour if things got messy. Then again, it could also make things significantly more difficult; doubtlessly the Ninefold Jade Sect was keeping a closer eye than usual on the comings and goings of wandering cultivators.

  For now, though, he had more important matters to attend to. Like sleep.

  — — —

  The marketplace of Biragawa was less a collection of stalls and more a city within a city.

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  High walls of whitewashed stone enclosed a broad square, its entrance marked by a pair of carved pillars shaped like twisting dragons. Inside, the noise of the city dulled, replaced by a quieter murmur of conversation. The stalls here weren’t really stalls at all, but permanent shops with tiled roofs, polished wooden fronts, and tasteful signs written in neat, expensive calligraphy. Silk banners fluttered from the eaves, each one bearing the emblem of a merchant house or clan.

  Even the guards here looked different – cleaner armour, sharper eyes, hands never more than a breath away from the hilts of their weapons. Jiang noticed the faint, restrained presence of several cultivators scattered through the compound, though most of them were only in the first realm.

  Jiang walked down the central thoroughfare, feeling painfully aware of how his hunting leathers made him stand out. He didn’t look destitute, but he certainly didn’t look like he belonged among merchants selling spirit herbs in lacquered boxes and jade talismans laid out on silk cushions.

  Maybe once he’d sold the beast cores, he would have enough to buy a new outfit. Part of him rebelled against the notion. What did he care about people judging him for the way he was dressed? On the other hand, if he wanted to move through this city without drawing eyes, he needed to look less like a hunter who had just crawled out of a swamp and more like… well, like he belonged.

  He stopped before a shop with a sign depicting a mortar and pestle picked out in gold leaf. The innkeeper had mentioned it when he’d asked about a good place to sell beast cores this morning. The man had seemed a little dubious when Jiang had claimed to be a cultivator – another point in favour of buying new clothes – but he clearly didn’t care enough to make an issue of it.

  A bell chimed softly overhead as Jiang pushed the door open. Glass-fronted cabinets lined the walls, displaying neatly arranged pills, talismans, and small, carefully labelled boxes. A long counter ran across the middle of the room. Behind it stood a man in his forties with a neatly trimmed beard and a robe that was just expensive enough to suggest success without being ostentatious.

  He glanced up as Jiang entered, eyes flicking automatically to the small square of jade set into a lacquered stand at the corner of the counter. The jade gave a single, soft hum, as if someone had plucked a string.

  The merchant’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly – from mild disinterest to polite attentiveness.

  “Honoured customer,” he said, inclining his head. “Welcome to Yunhe Trading. How may I be of service this morning?”

  Jiang placed his hand on the pouch at his belt. “I was told you buy spirit beast cores?”

  “Of course.” The merchant’s smile widened, professional and smooth. “We deal in all kinds of cores and related materials. If you would be so kind?”

  Jiang pulled the two small orbs from the pouch and set them on the polished wood of the counter. One was roughly the size of a plum, the other closer to a small egg. Both were cloudy, their colours dull – evidence of their lower stage and his less-than-delicate harvesting. They looked unimpressive in the lamplight, and not for the first time, Jiang wished he’d known to harvest the core from the spirit beast he’d fought outside Shanmei.

  The merchant’s eyes flicked over them quickly, and Jiang saw the moment his initial enthusiasm dampened a fraction. Regardless, he picked up the smaller one first, holding it up to the light. He produced a small monocle from his pocket, holding it up to his eye. Jiang could sense a faint thread of Qi coming from it.

  “First realm, third stage,” the man said, tapping the core lightly with one finger before picking up the next. “And this one… fifth stage, with a weak wind alignment. Reasonable quality, but nothing particularly valuable.”

  He set them back down, drumming his fingers on the counter. After a moment, he picked up the larger core, turning it under the light, then set it down again with a faint sigh.

  “Unfortunately,” he continued, “you have chosen a poor time to sell, honoured customer.”

  Jiang’s jaw tightened. He had been expecting that. “What do you mean?” he asked anyway.

  The man folded his hands, clearly slipping into a speech he’d given many times over the last few weeks. “Under ordinary circumstances, first realm beast cores of these stages would fetch a respectable price. There is always steady demand among lower-realm cultivators; the cores are useful for stabilising foundations, tempering meridians, and so on. However, as you are no doubt aware, Birigawa is currently hosting the provincial tournament. The city is full of wandering cultivators, minor sect disciples, and ambitious youngsters hoping to make a name for themselves.”

  His gaze sharpened slightly. “And where there are that many hungry cultivators in one place, honoured customer, there is naturally an… excess of supply. Every hopeful squad that returns from the frontier brings back a sack of low-stage cores just like these. Some merchants have halted purchases entirely. We are still buying, but we must adjust our prices accordingly or be left with shelves full of unsold stock.”

  “So you’re saying they’re worth less because everyone else is selling the same thing,” Jiang said.

  “Precisely. This is a buyer’s market.”

  The merchant gave him a sympathetic look. “Under better conditions, I would offer you perhaps four gold for the fifth-stage core and two for the third-stage. Today… I can offer you three for the pair. It is not what they are truly worth, but it is the best I can do while keeping my own books balanced.”

  Jiang stared at the cores. Three gold.

  Half what they were worth. It felt like being cheated, even if the logic made sense. He opened his mouth to argue, to try and haggle the price up, but the words died in his throat. What was he going to say? He didn’t know the market. He didn’t know the supply chains.

  And three gold… it was still a fortune. It was enough to live comfortably for months. It wasn’t like he couldn’t go out and hunt some more spirit beasts if he needed to – by the sounds of it, there were plenty to go around. It was possible he was getting ripped off at that price, of course, but there wasn’t an easy way to tell and he didn’t have the patience to go around and check the price at the surrounding stores anyway.

  “Fine,” Jiang said, keeping his face neutral. “Three gold.”

  “Pleasure doing business with you,” the merchant said, his smile looking a fraction more genuine. “You’re taking this better than the last three who walked in here. Had one fellow threaten to burn my beard off because I wouldn’t pay a premium for a cracked rat core.”

  He opened a drawer, counting out three heavy, golden coins stamped with the Imperial seal, and slid them across the counter.

  Jiang swept the coins into his pouch, feeling the satisfying weight of them. “I don’t think you would stay in business long if you were ripping off cultivators,” he remarked.

  “Very true,” the man chuckled. “You’re here for the tournament, then? Or the tide?”

  “Something like that,” Jiang said noncommittally. “I hadn’t actually heard about the tide before now. Is it common?”

  “Aye. Every year the beasts migrate down from the frozen peaks,” the merchant explained, gesturing vaguely north. “Usually it’s a trickle. But every few years… it’s a flood. That’s how the tournament started, you know. Years back, the city called for aid to hold the walls. Cultivators came for the bounties, and, well… they tended to fight the beasts by day and each other by night. Eventually, the Sects decided to organise it, make some money off the spectacle.”

  He paused, looking Jiang over again.

  “If you’re looking to hunt for some more cores,” the merchant said, lowering his voice slightly, “and you want better rates than I can give you, you might want to check out the Black Dragon.”

  “The Black Dragon?”

  “It’s a tea house. West district, near the river,” the merchant said. “A lot of the wandering cultivators use it as a hub. They form groups for the tide there, trade information, things of that nature. I have a… business arrangement with the owner to source materials. They pay better because they have direct buyers in the alchemy guilds.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a bit exclusive, but you seem like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Might be worth your time if you’re planning to stay in the city for a while.”

  Jiang nodded slowly. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

  “Just tell them Old Chen sent you,” the merchant called out as Jiang turned to leave. “Might get you a better table.”

  Jiang stepped back out into the cold air, the bell chiming behind him. He patted the pouch at his belt again. Three gold.

  It was a good start.

  The Black Dragon sounded interesting – a hub for information and potentially higher-paying work was exactly what he might need if his stay in Biragawa dragged on. Hunting spirit beasts was dangerous, but it was honest work, and clearly profitable.

  But that was for later.

  He adjusted his cloak, shielding his face from the biting wind, and turned his gaze toward the inner city. The grey stone walls of the Ninefold Jade Sect’s compound rose above the rooftops in the distance, a silent, imposing fortress.

  Now, the real work began.

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