Xinyi

Guangzhou blew Xinyi's mind. Used to the relative calmness of Sichuan despite its fiery reputation, her senses were simply unprepared for this.

She heard voices, countless voices layering over one another. A merchant haggling aggressively over smoked fish, his competitor shouting prices two stalls down. A child's wailing after tripping on uneven cobblestone. Somewhere distant, sailors cursing in dialects she'd never encountered. And beneath it all, the scent of the sea, salt and brine and something indefinably vast. Her first time near the coast. She's a land mammal like no other!

As she passes through the outer gates, the guards seem to recognize her strength. A small nod of acknowledgment that she isn't able to see, only sensing it briefly through the subtle shift in their energy. Her awareness remains active, though not as heightened as usual.

All thanks to one person.

She turns her head toward them, white ponytail swaying with the motion. "That old merchant we met a couple days ago wasn't lying, it seems..." She pauses, drawing in a deep breath through her nose, savoring the freshly discovered tang of sea air. "I can feel the ocean breeze! First time, y'know?!"

She bounces slightly on her heels, spinning partway in their general direction, arms spreading wide as if to embrace the entire city. The energy signatures around her pulse and flow like a living thing, thousands of people moving through the streets in chaotic harmony. Only now does she truly grasp just how massive this place is. So many things to do, so many sounds and smells and sensations!

Now... let's have some fun!

An idea sparks in her mind, and her expression shifts into something impish.

"It's hardly right to leave such a poor and innocent little lady waiting around like this." She leans forward conspiratorially, hands folded behind her back, gripping her spear with both palms as she waves it side to side in a playful tease. Her closed eyes and innocent smile make the performance all the more theatrical. "I wish I could spot some nice street performance myself, or perhaps a cozy inn with decent rice wine and even better gossip..."

Her smirk grows decidedly mischievous.

"But this young lady shall graciously settle for whatever you choose!" She finishes with a cheeky grin, head tilted just slightly to the side.

Gods, I really hope I'm facing the right direction.

Guangzhou grows oddly quiet after sunset. The reason? Pirates.

While the northern districts maintain their bustling energy well into the evening, the southern waterfront becomes a different beast entirely. Streets near the docks empty of honest folk, surrendering the territory to low-lives, corsairs, beggars, and worse. Tonight follows the familiar pattern, save for one addition: a blind woman with distinctive white hair walking purposefully toward the wharves.

The innkeeper said it was somewhere around here...

Xinyi had heard plenty about pirates congregating here after dark. Perfect opportunity to catch them in one place, she'd figured. "See anyone yet?" She turns her head toward her companion, closed eyes aimed in approximately the right direction. "Think any of them are actually cultivators? Heard the officers among them reach Core Formation, supposedly."

Her smile doesn't quite match the tension coiling in her shoulders. They're going in blind, both metaphorically and literally.

"I suppose there's something oddly exciting about not knowing what to expect!" Her tone brightens with forced cheer. "Like biting into a pepper bun that could either make you jump for joy or give you a very unpleasant, pain-filled evening!"

The moment they step onto the wooden dock, she senses it. A shift in the energy around them, multiple signatures that weren't there before. The planks creak beneath her feet, ground suddenly unstable compared to solid earth.

"I think..." She adjusts her grip on her spear, moving it from its resting position behind her back to a proper one-handed hold, ready to snap into combat stance at a moment's notice. "We're caught."

The pirates emerge slowly, caught slightly off-guard by her perceptiveness. From behind crates, out of warehouse shadows, down from ship decks, they materialize. Quite a few of them, actually. Their energy signatures pulse with varying intensities, some barely stronger than common thugs, others... concerning.

Xinyi's smile widens into something theatrical and entirely unbothered.

"My my, what a warm welcome!"

Have my back! Please! Well, I should say I've got yours too!

Guangzhou wouldn't be itself without the Southern Traders, as locals call them. An umbrella term for anyone arriving from across the southern seas, bringing with them exotic goods, strange customs, and occasional fraud.

Xinyi experiences this cultural peculiarity firsthand, currently standing before what generously could be called a stall. More accurately, it's a patterned rug spread on the ground with herbs and questionable goods laid out across it. The proprietor, a weathered man perhaps in his fifties and decidedly not a cultivator, sits cross-legged behind his wares.

"This, this unlock meridians!" He waves his prize dramatically overhead, voice pitched to carry across the street. The way he presents it, one might think he's holding some sacred treasure, a surefire path to power and glory.

It's a dried date.

Just a date.

"Mmm, I don't know..." Xinyi murmurs, leaning forward with theatrical interest. Her hands fold behind her back, spear gripped casually between them. "It looks like a regular dried fruit. Don't feel any energy from it at all."

The merchant pauses, visibly confused. She said 'looks' while her eyes remain firmly closed. His Mandarin, already barely recognizable through his thick accent, stumbles over itself as he processes this.

"This... this secret energy! Different! Not like Chinese!" He recovers quickly, gesturing wildly. Really putting effort into selling her a date for a full silver tael.

Man, this is fun!

She turns her head briefly toward her companion, wanting to gauge their reaction to her teasing. The smile tugging at her lips is entirely too amused.

A few paces down, another merchant watches the exchange with a resigned sigh. Young, barely into manhood, possibly Indonesian or from even further south. His array of goods is smaller, more modest, but the energy signatures coming from them are genuine. Quality materials, carefully preserved herbs, legitimate spirit stones.

Yet his corner remains empty. Most passersby dismiss him as just another foreign kid trying to make quick coin, not worth the time to examine his wares properly.

The older merchant continues his passionate sales pitch, oblivious to everything except the potential silver tael dancing before his eyes.

The summons came through unusual channels: a beggar's whispered message, a jade token left at their inn, a meeting place on the docks at midnight. All of it screaming "trap" loud enough to wake the dead.

Xinyi went anyway.

Now she stands on the deck of a ship that doesn't officially exist, surrounded by energy signatures that range from Foundation to several very concerning Core Formation presences. The Red Sail Brotherhood, largest pirate fleet on the southern coast, and she's been invited to their flagship.

The woman who leads them radiates power that makes Xinyi's teeth ache. Captain Crimson Tide, they call her. Core Formation, late stage, with energy that flows like blood through water.

"You're probably wondering why you're here instead of feeding fish," the captain says, voice carrying an accent Xinyi can't quite place. Indonesian, maybe? "You've been making waves. Disrupting operations, protecting merchants, acting like proper little heroes."

Xinyi keeps her expression neutral, spear held in a non-threatening but ready position. "Just taking contracts. Nothing personal."

"Exactly." The captain's energy shifts with what might be amusement. "You're practical. Not ideological. So here's my proposition: work for us."

The words hang in the salt air.

"The Red Sail Brotherhood isn't what people think. We're not mindless raiders. We're..." She pauses, choosing words carefully. "Let's call it maritime wealth redistribution. The Chen family controls all legitimate sea trade, bleeding southern merchants dry with tariffs and fees. We provide alternatives."

"By stealing," Xinyi points out flatly.

"By liberating," the captain counters. "And we're good at it. Good enough that certain powerful people in Guangzhou prefer we continue operating. Keeps Chen honest, keeps prices competitive. Everyone benefits."

This is starting to make an uncomfortable amount of sense.

"We need someone who can navigate the city freely. Someone with no obvious connection to us. You'd provide information, occasionally intervene in operations we want disrupted, maintain your mercenary cover." The captain's energy pulses with intensity. "The pay would be exceptional. Protection would be guaranteed. And you'd be part of something larger than escorting merchants and hunting bandits."

Xinyi's mind races. This is... not what she expected. The smart move is to refuse, maintain neutrality. Getting involved with the Red Sail Brotherhood means making enemies of the Chen family and imperial authorities.

But it also means resources, information networks, and backing that most independent mercenaries could only dream of.

"And if I refuse?" she asks carefully.

"You walk off this ship. We pretend this conversation never happened." The captain's tone suggests this is genuine. "But the offer expires tonight. We're not interested in people who need to think about it."

The ship creaks beneath her feet. Somewhere in the distance, Guangzhou's lights glitter against the darkness. Behind her, she senses her companion's tension, waiting for her decision.

Shifu, I really hope you're not watching this.

The heat is oppressive, though not from temperature alone. Xinyi has endured worse in Sichuan summers. No, it's the humidity that makes every breath feel like drinking hot tea through her nose.

I hate Yunnan... I hate Yunnan... I hate Yunnan...

The mantra loops endlessly in her head as she navigates the narrow jungle path. Everything here is damp, close, and suffocatingly thick. Even the air has weight to it. Her senses pick up the moisture clinging to leaves, the dense concentration of energy saturating every surface. At least the abundance of life makes sensing her surroundings easier than usual.

"Heard there are Yaoguai here! Lots of them, actually." She forces brightness into her voice, desperately trying to focus on something positive about this miserable place. "Apparently most of the local population is beast-born. Isn't that fascinating?"

She hopes her companion shares even a fraction of her forced enthusiasm.

"But what kind..." Her left hand comes up to cup her chin thoughtfully while her right continues gripping her spear, the weapon resting partially against her shoulder for balance. The humidity makes everything stick, including her ponytail to the back of her neck.

Then it hits her.

"Tigers!" She practically jumps, excited despite herself. "Of course it would be tigers! The jungle, the territory, it all makes-"

A sound cuts through the undergrowth. Something large moving fast. Very fast.

Her earlier academic curiosity evaporates instantly.

"TIGER!"

The scream tears from her throat as an energy signature explodes into her awareness, already mid-pounce. Some kind of enhanced beast, spirit-touched, she doesn't have time to analyze what exactly. Her spear snaps into both hands, body pivoting into a proper combat stance on pure instinct.

So much for fascinating cultural experiences!

The heat is oppressive, though not from temperature alone. Xinyi has endured worse in Sichuan summers. No, it's the humidity that makes every breath feel like drinking hot tea through her nose.

I hate Yunnan... I hate Yunnan... I hate Yunnan...

The mantra loops endlessly in her head as she navigates the narrow jungle path. Everything here is damp, close, and suffocatingly thick. Even the air has weight to it. Her senses pick up the moisture clinging to leaves, the dense concentration of energy saturating every surface. At least the abundance of life makes sensing her surroundings easier than usual.

"Heard there are Yaoguai here! Lots of them, actually." She forces brightness into her voice, desperately trying to focus on something positive about this miserable place. "Apparently most of the local population is beast-born. Isn't that fascinating?"

She hopes her companion shares even a fraction of her forced enthusiasm.

"But what kind..." Her left hand comes up to cup her chin thoughtfully while her right continues gripping her spear, the weapon resting partially against her shoulder for balance. The humidity makes everything stick, including her ponytail to the back of her neck.

Then it hits her.

"Tigers!" She practically jumps, excited despite herself. "Of course it would be tigers! The jungle, the territory, it all makes-"

A sound cuts through the undergrowth. Something large moving fast. Very fast.

Her earlier academic curiosity evaporates instantly.

"TIGER!"

The scream tears from her throat as an energy signature explodes into her awareness, already mid-pounce. Some kind of enhanced beast, spirit-touched, she doesn't have time to analyze what exactly. Her spear snaps into both hands, body pivoting into a proper combat stance on pure instinct.

So much for fascinating cultural experiences!

From Xinyi's perspective, the figure before her radiates overwhelming presence. If she could see, she'd be staring up at a towering elephant-kin easily twice her size. No trunk, but massive ears and a frame built like a fortress. The glaive in his hands could probably cleave her in half without much effort.

She can't see any of this, of course. She just knows he's big and completely unmoved by her presence.

"Outsiders are not permitted without the chief's approval." The words come out flat, mechanical. It's actually clever, she realizes. Not giving her anything to work with, no emotion to leverage.

"Now now, I'm certain that such a big and st-"

"No."

I was never good with compliments anyway.

She pouts, turning her head away with exaggerated offense. Her spear rests between her crossed arms. Fine. Different approach.

"Alright, alright... what's troubling you then?"

"A lost-" He catches himself. "Outsiders are not permitted without the chief's approval."

But the slip was enough. His energy signature shifts, attention drifting toward the horizon as if desperately searching for something. Elephant-kin aren't stupid, she knows. He's just profoundly distracted by something more important than gate duty.

"A child. My child was lost."

The voice comes from behind her, aged and weathered. Definitely elderly, perhaps eighty years old, but the energy signature tells a very different story. Core Formation, stable and controlled. This is no ordinary village elder.

She turns toward the speaker. Tiger-kin, she determines from his signature. Hunched with age but still carrying himself with quiet authority. The air grows heavier as his energy extends outward, probing, suspicious.

If a blind girl managed to kidnap his son, then honestly he'd deserve it.

The thought is absurd enough to almost make her smile, but she keeps her expression neutral.

After a long moment, the pressure eases. "You are fangs." Not a question. Using the local term for mercenaries, blades for hire. "Find my son, and you will earn my eternal gratitude and this village's approval."

Then he bows. One hand fisted, the other held flat, pressing together as he bends deeply at the waist. The formal gesture carries weight.

"Please."

Just that single word, but it strips away the authority and suspicion. In this moment, he's simply a father worried for his child.

Xinyi and her companion have found themselves in a surprisingly pleasant place: Pu'er, a city in southwestern Yunnan that defies expectations. The racial tensions so common elsewhere seem minimal here, evidenced by the multicultural festival currently in full swing.

It started with hesitation. Then just a taste to be polite.

Now Xinyi sits at a communal table with a boar-kin, a crane-kin, a regular Han merchant, and a lamia, all of them deep in animated conversation about absolutely nothing important. Perfect.

"Pff, wait until you try a proper Sichuan pepper bun!" She gestures wildly with her cup, sloshing rice wine dangerously close to the rim. "That's what really gets you. Makes your whole mouth go numb!"

She drains the cup. Then another. Then one more for good measure. The burn stopped registering two rounds ago.

"Alright, everyone!" A massive boar-kin bellows from near the city square where a makeshift fighting ring has been assembled. His voice carries across the festival grounds. "We're taking bets for friendly matches! Who's brave enough?!"

He's clearly well-known and trusted, judging by how quickly people start gathering around him with coin in hand.

Several beast-kin immediately volunteer. Boar-kin, tiger-kin, even a mantis-kin whose energy signature suggests she's going to absolutely destroy whoever faces her.

So does Xinyi.

She slips away from the table without her companion noticing, weaving through the crowd with the focused determination only the properly drunk can manage.

They don't realize what she's done until she climbs into the ring, a gourd of booze clutched in her left hand. Her spear has been left behind since these are bare-handed matches only. Her opponent is already waiting: an ox-kin whose energy signature suggests he could probably headbutt through a brick wall.

Most of the crowd immediately places their bets on him, especially once they notice Xinyi swaying on her feet like a reed in strong wind.

"Cooome on..." She giggles, taking another deep swig from the gourd. The burn that should accompany it doesn't even register anymore. "Don't be shyyy..."

Whoa... he's really big. Easy-peasy though.

The crowd can't quite decide if they're watching a drunken-style master in the making or about to witness a blind idiot get absolutely pulverized.

Three days deep into Yunnan's interior, and Xinyi knows something is fundamentally wrong.

The job seemed straightforward: investigate why several Yaoguai settlements had gone silent over the past month. The payment was generous, but not suspiciously so. Standard reconnaissance work.

Except nothing about this is standard.

The first village they found was empty. Not abandoned in haste, but drained. Every building intact, belongings untouched, but not a single living soul. The energy residue clinging to everything felt wrong in a way that made her skin crawl. Corrupted, yes, but with a pattern to it. Methodical.

The second village was worse. They found the inhabitants, or what remained of them. Bodies withered like they'd been mummified over decades rather than weeks. Their expressions frozen in terror, empty eye sockets staring at nothing. The corruption here was stronger, seeping from the earth itself.

Now they stand at the entrance to a cave system that shouldn't exist according to every map they consulted. The energy signature emanating from within is overwhelming, making her earlier encounters with demonic cultivation feel like children playing with fire.

It's segmented. Chitinous. Ancient and hungry and vast.

Thousand Legs Catacomb.

She'd heard rumors, like everyone else. Whispers about the most disturbing branch of the Demonic Sect, the ones even other demonic cultivators avoided. Necromancy, corpse puppetry, regeneration through grafting dead flesh. Led by something called the Progenitor that might not even be human anymore.

Xinyi's grip tightens on her spear. Her cheerful demeanor has evaporated entirely, replaced by cold focus.

"We need to report this." Her voice is steady despite the fear churning in her gut. "This isn't a job for mercenaries. This is... this is way beyond us."

But even as she says it, she senses movement deeper in the caves. Energy signatures that pulse with unnatural life. And something worse: fresh ones, recently converted, still carrying traces of the tiger-kin and crane-kin settlements they'd found empty.

Whatever the Thousand Legs Catacomb is doing here, they're building something. Experimenting. And the Yaoguai population, already marginalized and ignored by imperial authorities, makes perfect test subjects that no one will miss.

The realization settles like ice in her chest.

They can report this. Flee back to civilization and tell the authorities about a Demonic Sect operation in remote Yunnan. And by the time anyone bothers to investigate, if they even do, how many more villages will be empty?

Shifu would tell me to run. He'd say living to fight another day isn't cowardice, it's wisdom.

But he'd also taught her that some fights choose you, whether you want them or not.

Xinyi takes a slow breath, centering herself. "Or..." She turns her head toward her companion, expression grim. "We go in quiet. Scout the operation, gather information. Maybe sabotage something if we're lucky. Get out before they notice us."

It's a terrible plan. They're Foundation Establishment cultivators walking into what's clearly a major Demonic Sect operation. The smart move is to run.

But sometimes the smart move and the right move aren't the same thing.

Xinyi takes longer than necessary passing through Chengdu's gates. She needs the moment to simply breathe, drawing in air thick with memories.

The scent hits her first. Sichuan pepper, sharp and numbing. Street vendor smoke carrying that distinctive tang she'd know anywhere. The energy signature of the city itself, martial and disciplined in a way Guangzhou's chaotic commerce never was.

She's not from Chengdu specifically, but she is from Sichuan. She visited this city many times as a child, before the disownment. Later, she returned with Shifu. This is also where he died, peacefully, under a plum tree in a small courtyard she could probably still find if she tried.

Xini...

The nickname surfaces unbidden. He'd called her that once when drunk at an inn, slurring her full name until it shortened. It stuck. She never told him how much she loved it.

Her grip tightens on her spear, held in standard march-carry as she walks through the gate. She senses two guards flanking her path, their energy signatures sharp and controlled. Her companion walks beside her.

Feng family has a stronger presence here than before.

The observation comes automatically. There are far more Feng cultivators in the city than she remembers from years ago. Either something significant happened, or they've simply tightened their control over their ancestral stronghold. Either way, the change is notable.

She's here to relax for a day or two after weeks of travel through Yunnan's humidity and chaos. Maybe enjoy some proper Sichuan food that actually burns the way it's supposed to.

"So..." She turns around with a cheeky grin, the sprawling city spread behind her along with that imposing fortress that dominates the skyline. "Maybe this time I'll be the one showing you around? I do know this place pretty well, despite the whole..." She gestures vaguely at her closed eyes. "Situation."

The air carries spice and memory in equal measure.

They spend their last day in Sichuan at a familiar inn. Xinyi knows the owner from childhood, used to sleep in these same rooms with Shifu when they passed through the city. The old woman recognized her voice immediately and gave them the best room without being asked.

After breakfast, they prepare to leave. The moment Xinyi steps onto the main street, she freezes.

That energy signature. Familiar in a way that makes her chest tighten.

Mother.

She can sense her somewhere in the crowd. Father too, his presence always larger, more solid. And two other signatures that carry similar resonance to her own. Siblings, probably. The ones who replaced her.

But they find her first.

"Xinyi?!"

A woman's voice, late fifties, possibly sixty. The energy signature confirms it before the voice does. White hair like Xinyi's own, blue eyes, dressed in white and blue that suggests comfortable wealth.

"It is... Xinyi."

Her father's voice comes from behind, deeper, cautious. Gray hair, about a head taller than her, wearing an elegant tunic. She senses the formal headwear that marks his civil servant position.

The weight of seventeen years collapses into this single moment.

"It has been a while, Father. Mother."

Her smile hides the nervous energy coiling in her stomach. She maintains proper posture, spear held correctly, every inch the successful cultivator rather than the blind child they abandoned.

Then she turns her head toward her companion. The gesture is deliberate, claiming their presence as statement and shield. She's not that helpless girl anymore. She has people. She has purpose.

The tension in the air shifts, acknowledgment of what's changed.

"Would you care to join me for tea?"

She bows respectfully, spear held horizontally in both hands. The formal gesture her mother taught her before everything fell apart.

Let's see if they remember teaching me that.

Xinyi stands before the imposing gates of the Feng family fortress, attempting to whistle casually. The sound that emerges can only be described as anxious wheezing.

"Pff... pff pff..."

Two guards flank the entrance, their energy signatures marking them as Foundation Establishment at minimum, possibly Core Formation. They show absolutely no reaction to her nervous display or whatever her companion is doing beside her. Professional to the point of being unnerving.

She can't quite bring herself to face the fortress directly, but turning her back to stare out at Chengdu feels equally wrong. So she settles for wheezing awkwardly at the horizon while waiting.

Right, right... easy. It's just an escort job for an heir. Simple. Professional. Don't embarrass yourself.

The gates open with heavy finality.

Two more guards emerge first, then a figure that radiates controlled power. Long black hair, the distinctive red eyes that mark cursed bloodline, black robes that suggest main branch status. A jian rests at her waist with the ease of someone who knows how to use it.

"We are leaving." The young woman's voice brooks no argument or small talk.

"Right away!"

Xinyi responds immediately, falling into step behind the Feng heir with perhaps too much enthusiasm borne from stress. Her professional mercenary instincts kick in, even as her mind races. This is what the contract specified: escort duty, protection, discretion.

They walk in silence for several steps before Xinyi's nerves get the better of her.

"So, uhh... where exactly are we going?"

She'd tried to use an honorific. Except basic math says she's older by several years, and calling someone younger "senior" feels absurd even by cultivation standards.

They would execute me for calling her Junior Sister!

That would absolutely be the case under normal circumstances. The Feng family doesn't tolerate disrespect toward their heirs.

But this isn't a normal heir. This is Hana Feng. The cursed one. The failure.

Which makes this situation infinitely more complicated than a simple escort job.

Chengdu is embroiled in silent chaos.

On the surface, everything appears normal. Merchants hawk spicy treats from street stalls, children chase each other through narrow alleys, the morning market bustles with its usual energy. But within the Feng fortress, the carefully maintained order is fracturing.

Accusations fly through council chambers. Raised voices echo off ancient stone. Panic spreads like poison through the hierarchical structure.

Feng Qiang departed three days ago to secure passage along the northern Silk Road, taking his most trusted generals to confront another Mongol incursion. His absence leaves a power vacuum that's rapidly destabilizing the court. Without his iron presence to maintain balance, old rivalries and factions are surfacing with alarming speed.

The catalyst came this morning: a merchant caravan was raided within sight of Chengdu's walls. Attacked by riders on horseback, plundered and burned, survivors left traumatized but alive to spread the tale. Such brazen disrespect practically spits in the Feng family's face. A raid this close to their ancestral seat, in territory patrolled by a standing army, shouldn't be possible.

Someone has to pay for that insult.

Which is how Xinyi finds herself standing in the family's judgment chamber, before a council of elders sitting in seats that are mostly empty.

The chamber itself is ancient, carved from stone that predates the current dynasty. The vaulted ceiling disappears into shadow, and the elders sit so far above the floor that they appear as little more than dark silhouettes to anyone with normal vision. Even to Xinyi's energy sense, they feel distant and removed, like judges peering down from another world entirely.

"No need for bloodshed, honored elders." She keeps her voice calm, hands raised in a placating gesture. Her spear remains confiscated at the chamber entrance. "I understand tensions are high, but surely we can resolve this misunderstanding through reason?"

Her nerves are screaming. The oppressive weight of the ancient stone and the cold energy signatures above her make it hard to maintain her usual cheerful facade.

"The caravan survivors provided descriptions." An elder speaks, voice echoing unnaturally in the vast space. Slightly younger than the others, his energy signature suggests late Core Formation. "The leader of the raiding group was reported as: 'A figure of white, black, and blue.'"

He lets that hang in the air, accusation implicit.

Xinyi's mind races. White hair. Black clothes with blue embroidery. Gods damn it.

"They also reported the leader wielding a spear with unusual technique." The elder's energy focuses on her like a blade. "Flowing attacks that seemed to bypass defensive formations entirely. This matches known descriptions of your style, does it not?"

The chamber goes silent except for the faint whisper of air through stone corridors.

"..."

For once, Xinyi has no immediate response. Her usual deflections and humor feel useless here. The description is too specific, too deliberate. This isn't mistaken identity or bad luck.

Someone set her up. Someone chose her specifically to take the fall for this raid.

But why? And more importantly, who benefits from framing a wandering mercenary?

This is a deeper conspiracy. I'm just a convenient scapegoat.

"I would also note," another elder speaks, this one older with energy that suggests they're nearing the end of their lifespan, "that the raid occurred during one of the few windows when our patrol schedules shifted. The timing suggests inside knowledge of our defensive patterns."

The implication crystallizes with sickening clarity. Whoever orchestrated this raid had access to Feng military intelligence. And by framing Xinyi, they're not just eliminating a witness or diverting attention. They're testing something: how easy it is to manipulate the family's justice system while Qiang is absent.

This is about succession. About proving the court is vulnerable without the patriarch's presence.

The sound of footsteps echoes from the entrance. Xinyi's head turns automatically, sensing a familiar energy signature being escorted in.

No. Not them too.

Her companion is brought into the chamber by armed guards. They're not restrained, not yet, but the threat is implicit.

She has no idea how, but she knows with absolute certainty that it will take ludicrous amounts of evidence and probably some spectacular bullshitting to get both of them out of this intact.

The younger elder leans forward slightly, shadow shifting. "Given the severity of this insult to the Feng family, and the circumstantial evidence, we are prepared to offer you an opportunity to prove your innocence through traditional means."

Oh no. That sounds exactly like the kind of 'opportunity' that gets people killed.

"Find the real culprits within three days, or face formal charges." His tone suggests this is generous mercy rather than an impossible task. "You may retain your freedom and weapons during this time. But be aware: we will be watching. And if you attempt to flee Chengdu, that will be taken as admission of guilt."

Three days to solve a conspiracy that clearly reaches into the Feng family's inner circles, with no resources, no authority, and everyone treating her as the primary suspect.

Xinyi's mind spins through possibilities. Someone raided a caravan specifically to frame her. Someone who knew her appearance and fighting style. Someone who had access to patrol schedules. Someone who benefits from destabilizing Qiang's court during his absence.

The list of people with all those qualifications is disturbingly short, and all of them are far more powerful than a Foundation Establishment mercenary.

She forces her brightest smile. "Three days? That's plenty of time! I'll have this sorted before you know it."

I'm so completely screwed.

Guangzhou grows oddly quiet after sunset. The reason? Pirates.

While the northern districts maintain their bustling energy well into the evening, the southern waterfront becomes a different beast entirely. Streets near the docks empty of honest folk, surrendering the territory to low-lives, corsairs, beggars, and worse. Tonight follows the familiar pattern, save for one addition: a blind woman with distinctive white hair walking purposefully toward the wharves.

The innkeeper said it was somewhere around here...

Xinyi had heard plenty about pirates congregating here after dark. Perfect opportunity to catch them in one place, she'd figured. "See anyone yet?" She turns her head toward her companion, closed eyes aimed in approximately the right direction. "Think any of them are actually cultivators? Heard the officers among them reach Core Formation, supposedly."

Her smile doesn't quite match the tension coiling in her shoulders. They're going in blind, both metaphorically and literally.

"I suppose there's something oddly exciting about not knowing what to expect!" Her tone brightens with forced cheer. "Like biting into a pepper bun that could either make you jump for joy or give you a very unpleasant, pain-filled evening!"

The moment they step onto the wooden dock, she senses it. A shift in the energy around them, multiple signatures that weren't there before. The planks creak beneath her feet, ground suddenly unstable compared to solid earth.

"I think..." She adjusts her grip on her spear, moving it from its resting position behind her back to a proper one-handed hold, ready to snap into combat stance at a moment's notice. "We're caught."

The pirates emerge slowly, caught slightly off-guard by her perceptiveness. From behind crates, out of warehouse shadows, down from ship decks, they materialize. Quite a few of them, actually. Their energy signatures pulse with varying intensities, some barely stronger than common thugs, others... concerning.

Xinyi's smile widens into something theatrical and entirely unbothered.

"My my, what a warm welcome!"

Have my back! Please! Well, I should say I've got yours too!

Guangzhou wouldn't be itself without the Southern Traders, as locals call them. An umbrella term for anyone arriving from across the southern seas, bringing with them exotic goods, strange customs, and occasional fraud.

Xinyi experiences this cultural peculiarity firsthand, currently standing before what generously could be called a stall. More accurately, it's a patterned rug spread on the ground with herbs and questionable goods laid out across it. The proprietor, a weathered man perhaps in his fifties and decidedly not a cultivator, sits cross-legged behind his wares.

"This, this unlock meridians!" He waves his prize dramatically overhead, voice pitched to carry across the street. The way he presents it, one might think he's holding some sacred treasure, a surefire path to power and glory.

It's a dried date.

Just a date.

"Mmm, I don't know..." Xinyi murmurs, leaning forward with theatrical interest. Her hands fold behind her back, spear gripped casually between them. "It looks like a regular dried fruit. Don't feel any energy from it at all."

The merchant pauses, visibly confused. She said 'looks' while her eyes remain firmly closed. His Mandarin, already barely recognizable through his thick accent, stumbles over itself as he processes this.

"This... this secret energy! Different! Not like Chinese!" He recovers quickly, gesturing wildly. Really putting effort into selling her a date for a full silver tael.

Man, this is fun!

She turns her head briefly toward her companion, wanting to gauge their reaction to her teasing. The smile tugging at her lips is entirely too amused.

A few paces down, another merchant watches the exchange with a resigned sigh. Young, barely into manhood, possibly Indonesian or from even further south. His array of goods is smaller, more modest, but the energy signatures coming from them are genuine. Quality materials, carefully preserved herbs, legitimate spirit stones.

Yet his corner remains empty. Most passersby dismiss him as just another foreign kid trying to make quick coin, not worth the time to examine his wares properly.

The older merchant continues his passionate sales pitch, oblivious to everything except the potential silver tael dancing before his eyes.

The summons came through unusual channels: a beggar's whispered message, a jade token left at their inn, a meeting place on the docks at midnight. All of it screaming "trap" loud enough to wake the dead.

Xinyi went anyway.

Now she stands on the deck of a ship that doesn't officially exist, surrounded by energy signatures that range from Foundation to several very concerning Core Formation presences. The Red Sail Brotherhood, largest pirate fleet on the southern coast, and she's been invited to their flagship.

The woman who leads them radiates power that makes Xinyi's teeth ache. Captain Crimson Tide, they call her. Core Formation, late stage, with energy that flows like blood through water.

"You're probably wondering why you're here instead of feeding fish," the captain says, voice carrying an accent Xinyi can't quite place. Indonesian, maybe? "You've been making waves. Disrupting operations, protecting merchants, acting like proper little heroes."

Xinyi keeps her expression neutral, spear held in a non-threatening but ready position. "Just taking contracts. Nothing personal."

"Exactly." The captain's energy shifts with what might be amusement. "You're practical. Not ideological. So here's my proposition: work for us."

The words hang in the salt air.

"The Red Sail Brotherhood isn't what people think. We're not mindless raiders. We're..." She pauses, choosing words carefully. "Let's call it maritime wealth redistribution. The Chen family controls all legitimate sea trade, bleeding southern merchants dry with tariffs and fees. We provide alternatives."

"By stealing," Xinyi points out flatly.

"By liberating," the captain counters. "And we're good at it. Good enough that certain powerful people in Guangzhou prefer we continue operating. Keeps Chen honest, keeps prices competitive. Everyone benefits."

This is starting to make an uncomfortable amount of sense.

"We need someone who can navigate the city freely. Someone with no obvious connection to us. You'd provide information, occasionally intervene in operations we want disrupted, maintain your mercenary cover." The captain's energy pulses with intensity. "The pay would be exceptional. Protection would be guaranteed. And you'd be part of something larger than escorting merchants and hunting bandits."

Xinyi's mind races. This is... not what she expected. The smart move is to refuse, maintain neutrality. Getting involved with the Red Sail Brotherhood means making enemies of the Chen family and imperial authorities.

But it also means resources, information networks, and backing that most independent mercenaries could only dream of.

"And if I refuse?" she asks carefully.

"You walk off this ship. We pretend this conversation never happened." The captain's tone suggests this is genuine. "But the offer expires tonight. We're not interested in people who need to think about it."

The ship creaks beneath her feet. Somewhere in the distance, Guangzhou's lights glitter against the darkness. Behind her, she senses her companion's tension, waiting for her decision.

Shifu, I really hope you're not watching this.

The heat is oppressive, though not from temperature alone. Xinyi has endured worse in Sichuan summers. No, it's the humidity that makes every breath feel like drinking hot tea through her nose.

I hate Yunnan... I hate Yunnan... I hate Yunnan...

The mantra loops endlessly in her head as she navigates the narrow jungle path. Everything here is damp, close, and suffocatingly thick. Even the air has weight to it. Her senses pick up the moisture clinging to leaves, the dense concentration of energy saturating every surface. At least the abundance of life makes sensing her surroundings easier than usual.

"Heard there are Yaoguai here! Lots of them, actually." She forces brightness into her voice, desperately trying to focus on something positive about this miserable place. "Apparently most of the local population is beast-born. Isn't that fascinating?"

She hopes her companion shares even a fraction of her forced enthusiasm.

"But what kind..." Her left hand comes up to cup her chin thoughtfully while her right continues gripping her spear, the weapon resting partially against her shoulder for balance. The humidity makes everything stick, including her ponytail to the back of her neck.

Then it hits her.

"Tigers!" She practically jumps, excited despite herself. "Of course it would be tigers! The jungle, the territory, it all makes-"

A sound cuts through the undergrowth. Something large moving fast. Very fast.

Her earlier academic curiosity evaporates instantly.

"TIGER!"

The scream tears from her throat as an energy signature explodes into her awareness, already mid-pounce. Some kind of enhanced beast, spirit-touched, she doesn't have time to analyze what exactly. Her spear snaps into both hands, body pivoting into a proper combat stance on pure instinct.

So much for fascinating cultural experiences!

After days of travel through impossible terrain, Xinyi finally reaches a small village in southern Yunnan just as dawn breaks. Children spill from homes to play, appearing human at first glance until the details register: whiskers, striped patterns rippling across skin, sharper nails, and movements that flow with feline grace. Tiger-kin, then. An entire village of them.

The sky chooses that exact moment to open up.

It doesn't rain so much as the heavens decide to empty themselves all at once. Torrential doesn't begin to cover it. Within seconds, Xinyi's carefully maintained ponytail transforms into a sad, sopping noodle plastered against her neck. Her clothes soak through instantly, clinging uncomfortably to her frame.

Worse than the physical discomfort is the sensory assault.

No. No no no. This is bad.

The rain carries energy with it, thick and chaotic, turning her awareness into static. She can barely make out what's directly in front of her even at maximum focus. Every raindrop distorts her perception, creating false signatures and drowning out real ones. The village around her becomes a blur of vague shapes and confused impressions.

She's not even sure where exactly she's standing anymore.

Her left hand extends outward, searching blindly (more than usual), while her right keeps her spear pressed against her shoulder in a non-threatening carry. Water streams down her face, and she can feel heat rising to her cheeks.

"Today... I'm genuinely a blind and poor innocent young lady. For real this time." The admission comes out smaller than intended. "So, help? Please?"

The help is NOT supposed to be necessary! I hate this jungle! I hate everything about this place!

Several tiger-kin passing by scoff openly at the display. Whispered comments drift through the rain about weak outsiders and pathetic cultivators who can't handle a little weather.

From Xinyi's perspective, the figure before her radiates overwhelming presence. If she could see, she'd be staring up at a towering elephant-kin easily twice her size. No trunk, but massive ears and a frame built like a fortress. The glaive in his hands could probably cleave her in half without much effort.

She can't see any of this, of course. She just knows he's big and completely unmoved by her presence.

"Outsiders are not permitted without the chief's approval." The words come out flat, mechanical. It's actually clever, she realizes. Not giving her anything to work with, no emotion to leverage.

"Now now, I'm certain that such a big and st-"

"No."

I was never good with compliments anyway.

She pouts, turning her head away with exaggerated offense. Her spear rests between her crossed arms. Fine. Different approach.

"Alright, alright... what's troubling you then?"

"A lost-" He catches himself. "Outsiders are not permitted without the chief's approval."

But the slip was enough. His energy signature shifts, attention drifting toward the horizon as if desperately searching for something. Elephant-kin aren't stupid, she knows. He's just profoundly distracted by something more important than gate duty.

"A child. My child was lost."

The voice comes from behind her, aged and weathered. Definitely elderly, perhaps eighty years old, but the energy signature tells a very different story. Core Formation, stable and controlled. This is no ordinary village elder.

She turns toward the speaker. Tiger-kin, she determines from his signature. Hunched with age but still carrying himself with quiet authority. The air grows heavier as his energy extends outward, probing, suspicious.

If a blind girl managed to kidnap his son, then honestly he'd deserve it.

The thought is absurd enough to almost make her smile, but she keeps her expression neutral.

After a long moment, the pressure eases. "You are fangs." Not a question. Using the local term for mercenaries, blades for hire. "Find my son, and you will earn my eternal gratitude and this village's approval."

Then he bows. One hand fisted, the other held flat, pressing together as he bends deeply at the waist. The formal gesture carries weight.

"Please."

Just that single word, but it strips away the authority and suspicion. In this moment, he's simply a father worried for his child.

Xinyi and her companion have found themselves in a surprisingly pleasant place: Pu'er, a city in southwestern Yunnan that defies expectations. The racial tensions so common elsewhere seem minimal here, evidenced by the multicultural festival currently in full swing.

It started with hesitation. Then just a taste to be polite.

Now Xinyi sits at a communal table with a boar-kin, a crane-kin, a regular Han merchant, and a lamia, all of them deep in animated conversation about absolutely nothing important. Perfect.

"Pff, wait until you try a proper Sichuan pepper bun!" She gestures wildly with her cup, sloshing rice wine dangerously close to the rim. "That's what really gets you. Makes your whole mouth go numb!"

She drains the cup. Then another. Then one more for good measure. The burn stopped registering two rounds ago.

"Alright, everyone!" A massive boar-kin bellows from near the city square where a makeshift fighting ring has been assembled. His voice carries across the festival grounds. "We're taking bets for friendly matches! Who's brave enough?!"

He's clearly well-known and trusted, judging by how quickly people start gathering around him with coin in hand.

Several beast-kin immediately volunteer. Boar-kin, tiger-kin, even a mantis-kin whose energy signature suggests she's going to absolutely destroy whoever faces her.

So does Xinyi.

She slips away from the table without her companion noticing, weaving through the crowd with the focused determination only the properly drunk can manage.

They don't realize what she's done until she climbs into the ring, a gourd of booze clutched in her left hand. Her spear has been left behind since these are bare-handed matches only. Her opponent is already waiting: an ox-kin whose energy signature suggests he could probably headbutt through a brick wall.

Most of the crowd immediately places their bets on him, especially once they notice Xinyi swaying on her feet like a reed in strong wind.

"Cooome on..." She giggles, taking another deep swig from the gourd. The burn that should accompany it doesn't even register anymore. "Don't be shyyy..."

Whoa... he's really big. Easy-peasy though.

The crowd can't quite decide if they're watching a drunken-style master in the making or about to witness a blind idiot get absolutely pulverized.

Three days deep into Yunnan's interior, and Xinyi knows something is fundamentally wrong.

The job seemed straightforward: investigate why several Yaoguai settlements had gone silent over the past month. The payment was generous, but not suspiciously so. Standard reconnaissance work.

Except nothing about this is standard.

The first village they found was empty. Not abandoned in haste, but drained. Every building intact, belongings untouched, but not a single living soul. The energy residue clinging to everything felt wrong in a way that made her skin crawl. Corrupted, yes, but with a pattern to it. Methodical.

The second village was worse. They found the inhabitants, or what remained of them. Bodies withered like they'd been mummified over decades rather than weeks. Their expressions frozen in terror, empty eye sockets staring at nothing. The corruption here was stronger, seeping from the earth itself.

Now they stand at the entrance to a cave system that shouldn't exist according to every map they consulted. The energy signature emanating from within is overwhelming, making her earlier encounters with demonic cultivation feel like children playing with fire.

It's segmented. Chitinous. Ancient and hungry and vast.

Thousand Legs Catacomb.

She'd heard rumors, like everyone else. Whispers about the most disturbing branch of the Demonic Sect, the ones even other demonic cultivators avoided. Necromancy, corpse puppetry, regeneration through grafting dead flesh. Led by something called the Progenitor that might not even be human anymore.

Xinyi's grip tightens on her spear. Her cheerful demeanor has evaporated entirely, replaced by cold focus.

"We need to report this." Her voice is steady despite the fear churning in her gut. "This isn't a job for mercenaries. This is... this is way beyond us."

But even as she says it, she senses movement deeper in the caves. Energy signatures that pulse with unnatural life. And something worse: fresh ones, recently converted, still carrying traces of the tiger-kin and crane-kin settlements they'd found empty.

Whatever the Thousand Legs Catacomb is doing here, they're building something. Experimenting. And the Yaoguai population, already marginalized and ignored by imperial authorities, makes perfect test subjects that no one will miss.

The realization settles like ice in her chest.

They can report this. Flee back to civilization and tell the authorities about a Demonic Sect operation in remote Yunnan. And by the time anyone bothers to investigate, if they even do, how many more villages will be empty?

Shifu would tell me to run. He'd say living to fight another day isn't cowardice, it's wisdom.

But he'd also taught her that some fights choose you, whether you want them or not.

Xinyi takes a slow breath, centering herself. "Or..." She turns her head toward her companion, expression grim. "We go in quiet. Scout the operation, gather information. Maybe sabotage something if we're lucky. Get out before they notice us."

It's a terrible plan. They're Foundation Establishment cultivators walking into what's clearly a major Demonic Sect operation. The smart move is to run.

But sometimes the smart move and the right move aren't the same thing.

Xinyi takes longer than necessary passing through Chengdu's gates. She needs the moment to simply breathe, drawing in air thick with memories.

The scent hits her first. Sichuan pepper, sharp and numbing. Street vendor smoke carrying that distinctive tang she'd know anywhere. The energy signature of the city itself, martial and disciplined in a way Guangzhou's chaotic commerce never was.

She's not from Chengdu specifically, but she is from Sichuan. She visited this city many times as a child, before the disownment. Later, she returned with Shifu. This is also where he died, peacefully, under a plum tree in a small courtyard she could probably still find if she tried.

Xini...

The nickname surfaces unbidden. He'd called her that once when drunk at an inn, slurring her full name until it shortened. It stuck. She never told him how much she loved it.

Her grip tightens on her spear, held in standard march-carry as she walks through the gate. She senses two guards flanking her path, their energy signatures sharp and controlled. Her companion walks beside her.

Feng family has a stronger presence here than before.

The observation comes automatically. There are far more Feng cultivators in the city than she remembers from years ago. Either something significant happened, or they've simply tightened their control over their ancestral stronghold. Either way, the change is notable.

She's here to relax for a day or two after weeks of travel through Yunnan's humidity and chaos. Maybe enjoy some proper Sichuan food that actually burns the way it's supposed to.

"So..." She turns around with a cheeky grin, the sprawling city spread behind her along with that imposing fortress that dominates the skyline. "Maybe this time I'll be the one showing you around? I do know this place pretty well, despite the whole..." She gestures vaguely at her closed eyes. "Situation."

The air carries spice and memory in equal measure.

They spend their last day in Sichuan at a familiar inn. Xinyi knows the owner from childhood, used to sleep in these same rooms with Shifu when they passed through the city. The old woman recognized her voice immediately and gave them the best room without being asked.

After breakfast, they prepare to leave. The moment Xinyi steps onto the main street, she freezes.

That energy signature. Familiar in a way that makes her chest tighten.

Mother.

She can sense her somewhere in the crowd. Father too, his presence always larger, more solid. And two other signatures that carry similar resonance to her own. Siblings, probably. The ones who replaced her.

But they find her first.

"Xinyi?!"

A woman's voice, late fifties, possibly sixty. The energy signature confirms it before the voice does. White hair like Xinyi's own, blue eyes, dressed in white and blue that suggests comfortable wealth.

"It is... Xinyi."

Her father's voice comes from behind, deeper, cautious. Gray hair, about a head taller than her, wearing an elegant tunic. She senses the formal headwear that marks his civil servant position.

The weight of seventeen years collapses into this single moment.

"It has been a while, Father. Mother."

Her smile hides the nervous energy coiling in her stomach. She maintains proper posture, spear held correctly, every inch the successful cultivator rather than the blind child they abandoned.

Then she turns her head toward her companion. The gesture is deliberate, claiming their presence as statement and shield. She's not that helpless girl anymore. She has people. She has purpose.

The tension in the air shifts, acknowledgment of what's changed.

"Would you care to join me for tea?"

She bows respectfully, spear held horizontally in both hands. The formal gesture her mother taught her before everything fell apart.

Let's see if they remember teaching me that.

Xinyi stands before the imposing gates of the Feng family fortress, attempting to whistle casually. The sound that emerges can only be described as anxious wheezing.

"Pff... pff pff..."

Two guards flank the entrance, their energy signatures marking them as Foundation Establishment at minimum, possibly Core Formation. They show absolutely no reaction to her nervous display or whatever her companion is doing beside her. Professional to the point of being unnerving.

She can't quite bring herself to face the fortress directly, but turning her back to stare out at Chengdu feels equally wrong. So she settles for wheezing awkwardly at the horizon while waiting.

Right, right... easy. It's just an escort job for an heir. Simple. Professional. Don't embarrass yourself.

The gates open with heavy finality.

Two more guards emerge first, then a figure that radiates controlled power. Long black hair, the distinctive red eyes that mark cursed bloodline, black robes that suggest main branch status. A jian rests at her waist with the ease of someone who knows how to use it.

"We are leaving." The young woman's voice brooks no argument or small talk.

"Right away!"

Xinyi responds immediately, falling into step behind the Feng heir with perhaps too much enthusiasm borne from stress. Her professional mercenary instincts kick in, even as her mind races. This is what the contract specified: escort duty, protection, discretion.

They walk in silence for several steps before Xinyi's nerves get the better of her.

"So, uhh... where exactly are we going?"

She'd tried to use an honorific. Except basic math says she's older by several years, and calling someone younger "senior" feels absurd even by cultivation standards.

They would execute me for calling her Junior Sister!

That would absolutely be the case under normal circumstances. The Feng family doesn't tolerate disrespect toward their heirs.

But this isn't a normal heir. This is Hana Feng. The cursed one. The failure.

Which makes this situation infinitely more complicated than a simple escort job.

Chengdu is embroiled in silent chaos.

On the surface, everything appears normal. Merchants hawk spicy treats from street stalls, children chase each other through narrow alleys, the morning market bustles with its usual energy. But within the Feng fortress, the carefully maintained order is fracturing.

Accusations fly through council chambers. Raised voices echo off ancient stone. Panic spreads like poison through the hierarchical structure.

Feng Qiang departed three days ago to secure passage along the northern Silk Road, taking his most trusted generals to confront another Mongol incursion. His absence leaves a power vacuum that's rapidly destabilizing the court. Without his iron presence to maintain balance, old rivalries and factions are surfacing with alarming speed.

The catalyst came this morning: a merchant caravan was raided within sight of Chengdu's walls. Attacked by riders on horseback, plundered and burned, survivors left traumatized but alive to spread the tale. Such brazen disrespect practically spits in the Feng family's face. A raid this close to their ancestral seat, in territory patrolled by a standing army, shouldn't be possible.

Someone has to pay for that insult.

Which is how Xinyi finds herself standing in the family's judgment chamber, before a council of elders sitting in seats that are mostly empty.

The chamber itself is ancient, carved from stone that predates the current dynasty. The vaulted ceiling disappears into shadow, and the elders sit so far above the floor that they appear as little more than dark silhouettes to anyone with normal vision. Even to Xinyi's energy sense, they feel distant and removed, like judges peering down from another world entirely.

"No need for bloodshed, honored elders." She keeps her voice calm, hands raised in a placating gesture. Her spear remains confiscated at the chamber entrance. "I understand tensions are high, but surely we can resolve this misunderstanding through reason?"

Her nerves are screaming. The oppressive weight of the ancient stone and the cold energy signatures above her make it hard to maintain her usual cheerful facade.

"The caravan survivors provided descriptions." An elder speaks, voice echoing unnaturally in the vast space. Slightly younger than the others, his energy signature suggests late Core Formation. "The leader of the raiding group was reported as: 'A figure of white, black, and blue.'"

He lets that hang in the air, accusation implicit.

Xinyi's mind races. White hair. Black clothes with blue embroidery. Gods damn it.

"They also reported the leader wielding a spear with unusual technique." The elder's energy focuses on her like a blade. "Flowing attacks that seemed to bypass defensive formations entirely. This matches known descriptions of your style, does it not?"

The chamber goes silent except for the faint whisper of air through stone corridors.

"..."

For once, Xinyi has no immediate response. Her usual deflections and humor feel useless here. The description is too specific, too deliberate. This isn't mistaken identity or bad luck.

Someone set her up. Someone chose her specifically to take the fall for this raid.

But why? And more importantly, who benefits from framing a wandering mercenary?

This is a deeper conspiracy. I'm just a convenient scapegoat.

"I would also note," another elder speaks, this one older with energy that suggests they're nearing the end of their lifespan, "that the raid occurred during one of the few windows when our patrol schedules shifted. The timing suggests inside knowledge of our defensive patterns."

The implication crystallizes with sickening clarity. Whoever orchestrated this raid had access to Feng military intelligence. And by framing Xinyi, they're not just eliminating a witness or diverting attention. They're testing something: how easy it is to manipulate the family's justice system while Qiang is absent.

This is about succession. About proving the court is vulnerable without the patriarch's presence.

The sound of footsteps echoes from the entrance. Xinyi's head turns automatically, sensing a familiar energy signature being escorted in.

No. Not them too.

Her companion is brought into the chamber by armed guards. They're not restrained, not yet, but the threat is implicit.

She has no idea how, but she knows with absolute certainty that it will take ludicrous amounts of evidence and probably some spectacular bullshitting to get both of them out of this intact.

The younger elder leans forward slightly, shadow shifting. "Given the severity of this insult to the Feng family, and the circumstantial evidence, we are prepared to offer you an opportunity to prove your innocence through traditional means."

Oh no. That sounds exactly like the kind of 'opportunity' that gets people killed.

"Find the real culprits within three days, or face formal charges." His tone suggests this is generous mercy rather than an impossible task. "You may retain your freedom and weapons during this time. But be aware: we will be watching. And if you attempt to flee Chengdu, that will be taken as admission of guilt."

Three days to solve a conspiracy that clearly reaches into the Feng family's inner circles, with no resources, no authority, and everyone treating her as the primary suspect.

Xinyi's mind spins through possibilities. Someone raided a caravan specifically to frame her. Someone who knew her appearance and fighting style. Someone who had access to patrol schedules. Someone who benefits from destabilizing Qiang's court during his absence.

The list of people with all those qualifications is disturbingly short, and all of them are far more powerful than a Foundation Establishment mercenary.

She forces her brightest smile. "Three days? That's plenty of time! I'll have this sorted before you know it."

I'm so completely screwed.