"English?" Qingyue repeated softly, the unfamiliar word rolling awkwardly off her tongue.
All eyes snapped toward Yun Che—Retsu's sharp gaze, Mio's curious frown, Cang Yue's wide-eyed focus. The rest were equally bewildered.
None of them, aside from Nemu, had any grasp of the strange language. At most, they had learned a handful of simple phrases—just enough to understand things like the workings of a digital clock. But beyond that? It had been useless.
Now, they might consider relearning it.
Nemu, however, had been different. She needed the language to grasp the flood of scientific terms Yun Che introduced, so the system itself had etched it directly into her mind.
In truth, that meant only two people in this world could truly understand the text. Yun Che… and Nemu.
"A language none of you could ever learn on your own," Yun Che said slowly, his tone grave, "except for the two of us. In the Dead Spirit Realm, it was one of the main languages—right alongside Japanese."
"Japanese?" Lin Yueru finally broke the silence, brow furrowing.
"You know that gibberish we sometimes use?" Yun Che asked, glancing at Retsu, Mio, Nemu, and even Kon.
Recognition flickered in Lin Yueru's eyes. "That strange tongue you four throw around sometimes? I thought it sounded… weird."
"It's not weird," Yun Che corrected with a small, amused smirk. "It's another language. And Mu Che… somehow, he could write in another form of language from our world."
"Also… remember the gibberish songs I used when I fought Fen Juebi?" Yun Che added with a faint grin. "That was in English too."
Mulan froze, her chopsticks slipping slightly. Her eyes widened as the thought struck her. "If… if Mu Che could use it, then maybe—he's from the Dead Spirit Realm as well?"
"Most probably…" Yun Che answered aloud, though his mind twisted with far heavier thoughts.
No. It wasn't just 'probable.'
The more he considered it, the more the pieces lined up in ways he didn't want to admit.
No one here—not Qingyue with her vast knowledge, not the scholarly sects, not even Retsu or Mio before they came—could recognize or reproduce English except with a handful of words. Only he and Nemu knew it flawlessly. That left two terrifyingly narrow possibilities.
Either Mu Che was another one who came from Earth…
Or he was some kind of alternate version of another person from Earth.
But if the latter were true, then it still meant the former was unavoidable. Mu Che is from Earth.
Reincarnated into this world.
"Man…" Yun Che exhaled sharply, staring at the weighty little book in his hands. "He's more mysterious than I ever thought."
The room fell into silence, everyone watching him with a mix of awe and unease.
Yun Che finally closed the book, slipping it into his robes. "We'll get to that later. For now, I'll make a translated version simple enough for all of you to study—after I've gone through this thoroughly."
"So… what are our plans for today?" Mulan asked, her tone bright with anticipation. Something about the new day—and the changes their group had brought into the Jin family—filled her with a restless energy.
Yun Che leaned back, arms crossed as his gaze swept across the table. "By now, word of Jin Zhuo's reinstatement should already be spreading through the city. And when it does, it'll split the city into two camps—those loyal to Jin Zhuo, and those clinging to that decrepit old city lord. He's been pulling strings through intimidation, debt, and favors to pull the people against your father and Little Yue. If we want stability, we need to cut those strings."
Lin Yueru tilted her head. "And how do we do that?"
Yun Che's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Divide and conquer. Each of us takes a piece of the web and tears it apart." He tapped the table lightly, as if sketching an invisible map of power.
"Right now," Yun Che said evenly, "according to Mulan's father, this city is strangled in two ways—the poor are kept down by fear, and the rich chained by greed. Liu Wuyan enforces this with three pillars propping up his power: legalized gambling dens that bleed the weak dry, unjust taxes imposed through the Outer Royal Family's name, and inflated food prices in the markets that crush everyone in between. And if that wasn't enough, he lets street thugs run whole districts, extorting protection money from anyone who dares to make a living."
Cang Yue's brows knit tighter, her voice low with anger. "So they profit from both suffering and survival. The poor suffocate, the wealthy dance on strings… and the enforcers are bought to look the other way. No wonder this city rots—it was built to."
"Exactly," Yun Che said, his tone hardening. "We pull out those three pillars, the whole structure collapses. The people will have no reason to fear, and no reason to obey."
His gaze settled on one in particular. "Little Yue… you'll go directly to the Cang Outer Family. Pay them a visit. And when you're there… do whatever you think needs to be done."
Cang Yue's eyes gleamed, a mix of amusement and cold steel. "Oh? Then maybe I'll pay a special visit to that uncle of mine. I just hope he didn't pissed Shin Yue off like last time."
Xue Ling immediately straightened. "I'll go with you."
But Cang Yue raised a hand, shaking her head gently. "No. If you come, they'll cower the moment you step through the gates. I want them to underestimate me… big sis. right up until I deliver the killing blow. I'll go Ru'er."
Her calm declaration sent a ripple of silence through the group.
"Retsu, Mio," Yun Che said, his tone casual yet sharp. "Since you two wanted to do some shopping, why don't you two go to the markets. Root out the dishonest merchants bleeding the poor dry. I am sure a little persuasion can give you two willing discounts."
Retsu's lips curved into her usual chilling smile. "Ufufu… a little scare will loosen their greed."
"Maybe we can get things for free if we play them right." Mio only nodded, her eyes glinting with mischief as she fan herself.
"What about you?" Mulan asked, her gaze fixed on him.
Yun Che leaned back in his chair, expression calm. "I'll pay a visit to the gambling den. According to your father, it's the biggest contributor to the city's decay. So…" His smile turned razor-thin. "…I think it's about time someone picked a fight there."
Mulan's eyes widened. "Wait. You can't just go there so lightly. You… I mean… Mu Che… he had an old enemy there."
Yun Che tilted his head. "Old enemy?"
"Yes," Mulan said firmly. "The owner of the gambling den—Tian Heng. Once, he led a gang that terrorized the city outskirts. He hounded Mu Che's family endlessly back then before he married me, trying to crush them. The only reason Mu Che survived was because he tricked Tian Heng into humiliation and dismantled the den using my family's power. But after my father was exiled from power… Tian Heng returned, reinstating it with even more cruelty."
"Oh?" Yun Che chuckled, unconcerned. "So he's got a personal grudge, huh? All the better. Old enemy or not, he'll be dealt with."
Mulan bit her lip. "If you go there alone, it will definitely spark blood between you two."
"Blood?" Yun Che's smile sharpened. "Looking forward to it."
"I'll come with you," Mulan suddenly said, her voice firm.
Yun Che raised an eyebrow at her. "What, worried I'll kill him too fast?"
"More or less," Mulan mused with a sly curve of her lips. "The current you is much more dangerous than Mu Che."
"So am I," Qingyue suddenly declared, her calm voice carrying an unusual weight. The table went quiet as all eyes shifted to her.
"You as well?" Yun Che tilted his head, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
"Yes," Qingyue replied without hesitation, her gaze steady. "I won't let her be alone with you."
A smirk tugged at Yun Che's lips. "Pff… since when were you the jealous little missy?"
"I…" Qingyue's composure wavered, a soft sigh slipping from her lips. "I can't help it."
Her cheeks flushed the faintest pink as she turned her face away, unable to meet his teasing smile. This new heart of hers betrayed her faster than she would like—where her old self would have stayed cold and composed, now jealousy and warmth alike surfaced openly.
Yun Che simply smiled, eyes lingering on her with quiet affection. To him, the change was both strange and beautiful.
"Still…I can't let Yue'er and Yueru go to the Outer Cang Family's palace unattended," Xue Ling decided firmly.
Yun Che glanced at Xue Ling. "Sis Ling, why don't you and Sister Yueli take Nezuko out? Use this moment to bond with her. There are four little Nezukos, after all. I am sure the two of you needed to control those four little runts."
"This…" Xue Ling hesitated, her gaze drifting toward Chu Yueli. The thought of spending time together felt a little awkward.
Since both are rivals.
But before she could say more, Little Fairy nodded with a faint, knowing smile. "I agree. Take this moment to get to know each other. You both are that swordsman's future spouses."
"Nee-san!" Yueli's cheeks flared pink at her sister's blunt words.
Yun Che could only sigh, shaking his head at Little Fairy's newfound boldness. Ever since regaining her Crystal Dream Heart, her teasing had doubled.
"So," he asked her, "are you going somewhere as well?"
"I'll follow Retsu and Mio," Little Fairy replied smoothly. "Since my sister will be spending time with Xue Ling and the Nezukos. Besides, I'd like to know Mio better—and it's been a while since I went shopping with Retsu."
"Ufufu… the more the merrier," Retsu mused, a gentle smile curving her lips.
"If Ret-chan likes you, then I won't mind." Mio, quietly at her side, gave the faintest nod, but the way her eyes softened toward Little Fairy revealed she was pleased by the choice.
"What about you, Nemu?" Yun Che asked.
"Hai. I'll stay behind at the VTOL to make some adjustments. I'll also be following Nee-sama using my drone."
"I'll stay with her, Yun-sama," Yoru added calmly, already reaching for her tea set. "I just want to enjoy my tea in peace today."
Yun Che nodded, though his lips twitched with faint amusement at the mention. "Oh? You developed a drone?"
Nemu answered with a small nod. A moment later, a faint shimmer appeared above her head as her "drone" materialized—its twin hover humming quietly. The compact frame gleamed with a sleek, almost alien design, and mounted beneath it was a small automatic crossbow bolt launcher that looked eerily familiar.
Everyone's eyes widened. The aura-less construct had been hovering undetected until she revealed it. Neither spiritual sense nor Haki picked up on it at all.
"You… had that with you this whole time?" Mulan asked, her eyes narrowing as if she had just realized there had been an unseen guardian constantly watching them.
Nemu's tone stayed matter-of-fact. "Yes. I reverse-engineered the weapons base system from Yuu-sama's Automatic Crossbow. This one can switch ammunition types at will. I also integrated the VTOL's cloaking principle, so it can turn invisible."
"Hooh…" Yun Che tilted his head with amusement. "So you basically created an invisible guardian angel. This is the first drone I've seen this I came to this realm."
"Yes. I'll send one to follow Nee-sama and maintain contact at all times."
"As if you need a drone to talk to me, Nemu-chan" Retsu giggled softly, a hand hiding her lips.
"I could, but…" Nemu adjusted her glasses ever so slightly. "The drone needs testing. So, I will speak to you through it."
"Ufufu, such an excuse~" Retsu teased, her voice carrying that gentle but mischievous lilt.
"Deepest apologies, Nee-sama." Nemu smiled faintly, though her tone was clearly more playful than serious.
"Mouu! It's Nee-chan," Retsu corrected with a small sigh, but there was no hiding the affection in her eyes. She accepted the jest with ease.
Yun Che's curiosity flared. "You have several others?"
"Yes," Nemu replied smoothly. "But the weight calibration for heavier weapon systems still requires fine adjustments."
"I'll help you with that once I'm done in the city," Yun Che offered without hesitation.
Nemu inclined her head gracefully, her voice softening as if the gratitude carried more weight than her words alone. "Much appreciated, Yuu-sama."
Retsu smiled knowingly at her little sister's tone. "Ara…, but you sound like you're guarding treasure."
Nemu glanced at her, unruffled. "I am. Nee-sama is my treasure after all."
"Oh you…" Retsu patted Nemu's head gently. Even if she knew her little sister could protect herself, it was still comforting to know Nemu was always watching over her.
"Be sure to hide the drone from the public. We've already drawn enough attention with the VTOL," she reminded.
"Hai… noted," Nemu replied with a crisp nod.
"This thing is…?" Qingyue finally asked, her brows furrowed in intrigue. Mulan, Xue Ling, Chu Yueli, and even Little Fairy leaned in with equal curiosity. Lin Yueru, however, was outright circling around the contraption, her eyes locked on its hovering rotors. The most unnerving part—despite the speed, the thing emitted no sound at all.
"That thing?" Yun Che pointed. "It's called a drone. Remember when we talk about robots? It's one of them."
Qingyue nodded but still curious as ever.
"A drone?" The word rolled strangely off Mulan's tongue.
"Think of it as a small controllable ark," Yun Che explained. "While you can pilot the big one outside, this little one is piloted by her. Retrofitted with weapons, too."
Chu Yueli blinked. "From so far away? How?"
Yun Che chuckled. "If I explained properly, we'd have to cancel today's plans. But… to put it simply, she controls it through profound waves that connect her to the drone's core."
Of course, he kept quiet about the truth—Nemu was really using the system's neural interface, piloting the drone directly with her control gauntlet. Something she developed at the same time as she builds the VTOL.
Little Fairy folded her arms, her lips tugging upward. "The wonders she can create."
"That's Nemu," Yun Che said with a small grin. "Her cultivation is a bit lacking but make no mistake, she is well versatile in technology. If Retsu can use a thousand and one techniques, she can use a thousand and one tools to destroy her opponent."
"I assume it's your first prototype?" Yun Che asked, eyeing the floating machine.
"Yes," Nemu nodded, her voice even. "This is VSD Prototype One. A crude version of a drone controlled flying automatic crossbow. I'm still working on improving it to support sniper-based weapons."
"Crude, huh? For something that moves without a sound and hides from detection, I'd call it more than crude," Yun Che chuckled, though his eyes gleamed with thought. "I'll give you some ideas later."
Nemu's lips curved faintly. "I'll be looking forward to it, Yuu-sama."
"In the meantime," Yun Che stretched his arms and glanced toward the group, "we might as well turn today into a good day… while the Wu Clan is still busy figuring out what we did last night."
The words instantly shifted the atmosphere. Mulan's eyes sharpened, Qingyue's fingers brushed her new sword hilt instinctively, and Retsu's lips curled in a mischievous smile. The game pieces were already moving, but Yun Che was two steps ahead.
------------------------------
Xuanwu City—the heart and capital of Jin Province. Once a beacon of order, it has long since decayed into a nest of corruption. Ever since the death of Mu Che, the true ruler who held the city together, rot has spread unchecked. Now, from the shadows, the Wu Clan, the Zhu Family, and the Outer Cang Family pull the strings, all through their puppet city lord, Liu Wuyan.
According to Jin Zhuo, Mu Che had once entrusted him with the authority to govern, but that legacy was quietly stripped away. The Jin Family was reduced to a broken house—once noble, now little more than a remnant clinging to the ruins of an abandoned courthouse, their numbers dwindling to fewer than a thousand.
The only reason the family still exists is Mu Che's final gift: the cultivation breakthrough that raised Jin Zhuo, Jin Yuelian, and Jin Mulan to the realm of the Profound Emperors. This hidden strength kept the wolves at bay. Yet even with this power, the Jin Family dared not act openly. To provoke the Wu Clan outright would invite retaliation strong enough to rival even the Four Great Sects. And so, the family lies low, silent emperors forced to endure while the city festers.
From the outside, the city appeared magnificent: towering walls of gray stone, banners fluttering in the wind, the bustling din of merchants calling out their wares. But the moment one stepped inside, the illusion unraveled.
The streets were choked with misery. Ragged beggars lined the alleys, their hands outstretched as gamblers staggered past them, pockets emptied by the dens that thrived under Liu Wuyan's blessing. The scent of roasted meat drifted from vendors' stalls, yet only the wealthy could afford even the cheapest cuts. For the common folk, inflated prices turned a single steamed bun into a day's wage. Mothers bartered jewelry for rice; fathers broke their backs in the docks, only to see their earnings vanish into rigged taxes.
At every corner, gangs in the pay of the Wu Clan and Zhu Family prowled like carrion crows. They demanded "protection money" from shopkeepers who already struggled to survive. Those who refused often found their stores smashed, their families beaten, or worse—dragged away into the night, never to return.
The wealthy nobles lived differently, tucked safely in the inner district's stone manors. They dined on wine and jade delicacies, but even they were not free. The Outer Cang Family bled them dry with subtle manipulations—debts, marriage contracts, bribes, and false favors that slowly strangled their houses into submission.
Over it all presided Liu Wuyan, the so-called city lord. His name carried weight, but not because of honor. He was the hand of the hidden clans, the face of their corruption, smiling at banquets while the city suffocated beneath his shadow.
Once, Mu Che's rule had kept balance. His presence alone was enough to keep the wolves from tearing the city apart. But with his passing, the wolves took everything.
==================
The carriage jolted along a rutted road and pushed deeper into Xuanwu City. From the window, the capital's two faces unfolded: glittering manors tucked behind lattice gates on one side; cramped alleys and market stalls on the other, where people moved with the tired gait of those who have been ground down for years.
Mulan sat at Yun Che's right, fingers curled in her lap. Qingyue rode on his left, her expression composed but watchful—like someone piecing together a map of a place she'd never been allowed to study. Yun Che kept his eyes on the city, listening to the small, brittle noises of a place that had lost its laughter.
"This used to be a bright city," Mulan said softly, watching a child on the street tighten his father's worn coat.
Qingyue's gaze cut across the roofs. "Last night's trouble was centered in the hall area—rich section," she noted, precise. "Two different cities layered on top of each other."
Mulan nodded. "It's where Mu Che kept balance. He made gambling illegal under Jin Zhuo's rule; he shredded those dens before. After he died, Tian Heng came back and brought it all with him—debts, addiction, people working to pay off what they could never repay."
Yun Che's jaw tightened. "We're going to shut the those gambling houses again. Break the debt network and buy back the loyalty of the poor patrons. Once they're not shackled to Tian Heng, the whole web begins to unravel."
The carriage slipped past a row of shuttered shops and a beggar who watched them with hollow eyes. Qingyue's fingers tapped in a slow rhythm against the carriage door—as if the city's sorrow could be measured by sound.
"You can feel it, can't you?" Yun Che asked quietly.
She looked at him, the faintest of smiles ghosting her lips. "I have to see the world eventually. If I must learn its wounds, then learn I will. If you teach me—about its strengths and its wrongs—then I will follow your counsel."
Yun Che couldn't help a teasing edge in his voice. "So the little missy takes lessons now?"
"I practiced," she said, and there was a warmth in the answer that didn't vanish with formality.
Mulan watched them, hope reshaping the lines of her face. "It will take time," she said, "but if we restore what was taken from my father, the city can be put right."
"You said Mu Che had this Tian Heng as an enemy. Mind telling me how he works?" Yun Che asked, his tone casual, but his eyes narrowed with interest.
Mulan's lips pressed together before she spoke. "Tian Heng is the kind of man who thrives in shadows. He controls nearly every illegal venture in Xuanwu—brothels, gambling rings, loan sharks, smuggling. Under him, the unlawful became lawful. The moment my father lost his seat as City Lord, the Zhang Family gave him protection, and his influence spread like rot."
She gestured out the carriage window, to the streets where enforcers leaned on corners and merchants bowed too deeply out of fear. "Now, his men run gangs that collect 'fees' from the poor. But his main income, the anchor of his empire, is gambling. Five major gambling houses, each holding hundreds of men and women hostage through debt they can never repay."
Her voice grew sharp with anger. "The largest of them is called the First Gambling House. That is where he reigns."
Yun Che tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "First?" he echoed. "That's a terribly odd name."
Mulan exhaled bitterly. "It's arrogance. He calls it the First because he wants everyone to remember—he was the one to bring gambling back into Xuanwu, and he considers it his throne."
"So, what's his beef with Mu Che?" Yun Che asked, tone deliberately casual, though his eyes sharpened.
Mulan's gaze dropped for a moment, then she spoke. "Mu Che was once married to Xu Qian—as her nominal husband."
At that, Qingyue's ears perked up. "Xu Qian? That odd woman we met at the tournament?"
Yun Che chuckled dryly. "Ah, yes. That one. The shameless one who strutted around as if the world owed her its admiration. So, she wasn't just lying her butt off that time."
Mulan's expression tightened, but she gave a reluctant nod. "Yes… her. After she divorced him, the Xu family tried to erase what they saw as an insult. Mu Che was low-born, married only because of a promise made between his grandfather and the Xu Patriarch of that generation. To them, it was a stain they wanted scrubbed away."
At those words, Qingyue stiffened, her fingers curling in her lap. The story struck far too close to home. A marriage arranged by family ties… an unworthy partner judged by birth and status… discarded when it no longer suited the powerful. For a moment, she saw herself and Yun Che in that mirror, and it made her chest tighten.
Yun Che, ever perceptive, caught her reaction from the corner of his eye. His smile softened, though he kept his tone lightly mocking. "Tch. So the almighty Xu Family was so insecure they needed to hire a dog like Tian Heng just to erase their 'embarrassment.' Pathetic."
"They hired him to kill Mu Che. He bargained for time—one week to give Tian Heng 1000 Gold Profound Coins. He used that week to come here, find me, and persuade me into marrying him. With the Jin Family as his backing, he turned the tables. He dismantled Tian Heng's shady businesses one by one and stripped the Xu Family of their influence in Xuanwu."
Her voice softened, pride flickering in her eyes. "For a while, the city was free. Prosperous. But… five years after his death, everything changed. The rot returned worse than before."
Yun Che leaned back, exhaling through his nose. "Figures. You cut the weed, but you don't salt the earth, it grows back stronger." He glanced toward the street, where two thugs were shaking down a grocer. "Well… that doesn't mean we leave it like this."
"What's your plan, actually?" Qingyue asked, curiosity plain in her tone. If there was ever a time to watch Yun Che's tactics instead of his raw power, it was now — and following him would buy her time by his side.
Yun Che glanced at Mulan, then smiled as if the idea were already half-done in his head. "We need the city behind your father, but we can't bludgeon them into loyalty. Flashy power will scare people. When we leave, everything falls apart again. So we play this tactically."
Mulan folded her hands, listening closely. "You'll dismantle the dens again, but Tian Heng has hundreds of people in debt. How do we turn them to our side?"
"We buy them back," Yun Che said simply. "We erase their debts, restore their livelihoods, and do it in a way that makes the Jin Family look like their savior. That gets people talking, and people talk faster than any blade." He tapped the edge of his hand on his knee. "Yes, it'll cost gold, but loyalty's worth more than coin in the long run."
Mulan frowned. "But that could be millions of gold profound coins, and gambling never actually pays out—"
"The house always wins, I know." Yun Che agreed. "But it's not gambling if you know how to play the game." He gave her a crooked grin.
"I still don't follow." Mulan frowned.
"I don't like gambling either — it's a grubby sort of victory. But we can beat this one without getting our hands dirty." Yun Che's smile turned mischievous.
"How?" she pressed.
Qingyue ponders before she blurt out. "You're not going to cheat now, aren't you?"
"Exactly." Yun Che rose, eyes bright. "And one more thing — veil yourself tonight. Don't let Tian Heng's men see you since you're the Jin Family's princess. Be the savior later, not their target now."
Mulan nodded. If Yun Che wanted her veiled, then she would listen to him — just as the others did.
"May I ask for one of those veiled hats?" she said after a pause. "I noticed the ones you made suppress divine beauty. It's impossible that Retsu, Mio, and Nemu haven't drawn attention… even Chu Yueli and Chu Yuechan. And of course, Qingyue here."
Yun Che smirked. "Well, it's a special hat. It doesn't just hide a face — it suppresses overwhelming beauty. That's why even if little missy here"—he tilted his chin toward Qingyue—"walks past someone, they barely realize she was there at all."
"I see…" Mulan murmured, as he handed her one of the kasa hats. It was the same type the others had worn during breakfast and the challenge last night. Even her father doesn't know
When she slipped it on, the change was subtle. She didn't feel different, but she could sense her presence thinning, as though the world's gaze had turned aside from her. A weaponized disguise — not only concealing beauty but dampening aura itself. No wonder someone like Retsu could stroll through a crowd unnoticed.
Even Qingyue's ethereal brilliance was dulled beneath it. What should have been impossible — suppressing beauty that rivaled the heavens — became effortless under Yun Che's handiwork.
"Such wonders," Mulan breathed, her fingers brushing the fabric. "Is this one of the technological marvels of your world as well?"
"Sort of," Yun Che replied. "It's designed to erase presence—specifically that of women. Not just beauty, but everything. From the inside, you can see out clearly, but no one outside can glimpse your face or even your silhouette. Even your figure disappears. To others, it's as if you're simply… not there. Invisible. Unless the hat is made for them too—then they can see you perfectly."
Mulan's eyes widened as she tested it, lifting her gaze toward Xia Qingyue. With the veil on, Qingyue's divine beauty shone clear before her. But once she removed it, Mulan found she couldn't even discern Qingyue's outline, as if her very existence had been swallowed by shadow. "Such sorcery…"
"No sorcery," Yun Che corrected lightly. "Security. My girls' beauty has become overwhelming— Retsu, Mio, Nemu and Qingyue's especially. You remember what happened when her veil slipped… and when Retsu's fell?"
Mulan nodded.
"So," Yun Che continued, offering her the veiled kasa hat, "wear it, and people won't even notice you exist. It's the perfect shield."
"I see," Mulan murmured, slipping it on. The moment the fabric settled, she felt herself vanish from the world. Even her presence—her very being—faded from notice. She glanced at Qingyue, who smiled faintly.
No one could recognize her now.
----------------------------
The carriage came to a halt before the First Gambling House, a den of smoke, laughter, and misery stacked high in gold coins. Yun Che stepped out first, Qingyue and Mulan following gracefully behind him.
As expected, not a single glance lingered in recognition. Mu Che had been "dead" for five years—his existence reduced to rumor and dust. The name had long slipped from people's tongues.
Mulan's lips parted in quiet awe. Even here, in a hall filled with sharp-eyed gamblers, no one recognized her face. The veiled kasa erased everything—beauty, identity, presence itself. For Qingyue, it worked wonders as well; her divine allure, normally overwhelming, had been smothered into nothingness.
"Oh? Some young master's here?" a sneer rose from the crowd.
"Probably here to lose his fortune. The house will strip him dry."
"Hah, look at him flaunting with those veiled ladies. Trying to impress women he probably bought."
"Let's pity the fool now—he won't leave with a coin to his name."
Yun Che smirked faintly, their words washing over him like air. Without a word, he strode toward the glowing entrance of the gambling house. He wasn't here for himself. He was here to win—for Mulan, for the Jin Family, and to tear apart the system that fed on the city's suffering.
Mulan exhaled a long sigh. In the past, the Jin Family would have forbidden the frail Mu Che from even setting foot in such a place, lest he gamble his life away along with their honor. But Yun Che was different. He wasn't reckless—he was deliberate. Every step, every gamble, every impossible act was always for something greater. Her father had come to see that too.
Qingyue's expression, cold and serene as always, betrayed only the faintest spark in her eyes. Beneath her composure was something else: curiosity… anticipation. She wanted to see what kind of miracle Yun Che would pull this time. For her, this wasn't a gamble—it was an adventure.
The moment Yun Che stepped into the gambling hall, a wave of noise and smoke washed over him. Rows of polished tables stretched beneath crystal lanterns, each surrounded by gamblers dressed in silks and fur, their eyes bloodshot from greed and drink. Despite the finery, the air reeked of desperation. Coins clattered, dice rolled, and every cheer of victory was quickly drowned out by curses of loss.
The games themselves were deceptively simple—high or low, big or small, the endless rattle of dice cups. Pure guessing games, nothing more. But everyone in Blue Wind knew the truth: this hall was Tian Heng's hunting ground, a den designed to bleed men dry. The moment debts piled up, lives and families followed into ruin.
Mulan's expression soured as she swept her gaze across the scene. To her, every table was another pitfall waiting to swallow the weak. This was not entertainment—it was evil disguised as play. She shook her head faintly, resisting the urge to sneer aloud.
Qingyue, however, remained her usual icy self. She had never gambled before and had no desire to start now. To her, games of chance were a waste of time unworthy of her cultivation. But still, she followed Yun Che inside without hesitation. Whatever he sought to accomplish here, she would see it through at his side.
"Ah, a young master!" One of the attendants, sharp-eyed and smug, wasted no time sidling up to Yun Che. He gestured grandly toward a nearby table where coins stacked high lured greedy eyes. "Care to try your luck tonight? Perhaps fortune smiles on you."
Yun Che's lips curled faintly. Luck? That was what they wanted him to believe. In this hall, the dice weren't guided by luck, but by hidden tricks and sleight of hand. If the house could cheat without shame… then why shouldn't the gambler answer in kind?
Yun Che lowered himself into the chair with casual ease, while Mulan and Qingyue took their places just behind him. Both women watched silently, curious—if not wary—of whatever scheme he was about to pull in this den of vipers.
A cool, measured voice slid into his mind like flowing water. "Do you even have money to play?" Qingyue's spiritual transmission carried no emotion, but Yun Che could feel her sharp gaze on his back.
He smirked faintly without turning. "I have plenty… but I don't need to use my own. I'll just borrow theirs."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Isn't that reckless? I know these people plan to extort you by letting you win a few rounds. If you lose—"
"If I lose, little missy…" His tone dripped with confidence, almost teasing. "But if I don't—"
Qingyue exhaled softly, neither approval nor disapproval in her breath. "You sound far too certain of yourself."
"I am," Yun Che admitted, his smirk widening. "Though, rigged gambling not exactly a skill I'm proud of."
"I hadn't planned on visiting today," Yun Che said with calm ease, leaning on the table as if he had all the time in the world, "but I do wish to sign a loan."
The attendant's grin widened like a predator sighting wounded prey. Perfect, he thought. This was the very trap laid for naive gamblers—let them sign, bind them with impossible interest, and bleed them dry.
"Certainly, young master. How much would you like to borrow?"
"1,000 gold coins," Yun Che replied smoothly, his tone casual yet deliberate. "That should be more than enough. Now then… what's the interest?"
The attendant gave a sly little bow. "Annual, ten percent. No roll fees."
Yun Che raised his brows in feigned admiration. "Wow, such low interest." His voice dripped with mock naiveté, but behind his calm eyes, his mind was already running three steps ahead. The system shows the outcomes, the dice, the patterns—his "luck" was already stacked beyond reason.
The attendant, meanwhile, was smirking inwardly. What a stupid brat. He produced an agreement form, its parchment covered in twisting, deceptive language designed to tangle fools in debt. The truth was buried inside: with hidden clauses, penalties, and shifting terms, the loan's real burden could skyrocket as high as seventy percent. No gambler had ever walked away free.
Even Qingyue, who had been silently observing from behind, narrowed her eyes the moment she skimmed the agreement. Her usually frosty expression cracked with suppressed fury. Ten percent annually? In truth, compounded year by year, it would devour more than the original sum several times over. This wasn't business—it was legalized robbery.
She clenched her hands within her sleeves. Why do people fall for this? Why gamble when it only chains them deeper into ruin? To her, it was incomprehensible. Addiction, weakness, hope of easy fortune—all excuses for self-destruction.
And yet Yun Che… simply smiled. Calm, unhurried, his brush danced across the paper as though he were signing away nothing more than a tavern tab. The attendant's grin sharpened. Now the gambling house had him—legally bound, trapped by the weight of his own signature. With that, Yun Che owed them 1,000 gold coins, and they could crush him with a single IOU.
"Very good, young master," the attendant said silkily, taking the agreement as though it were a captured soul. He motioned, and another servant presented a tray of rectangular wooden chips, each one gilded along the edges. "One hundred gold coins per piece. Ten in total. Use them well."
Yun Che accepted them without the faintest flicker of concern. He slid them between his fingers like a street performer idly shuffling cards.
Mulan's lips parted as if to scold him, but she held back. Qingyue, too, remained silent, though her frosty aura betrayed her inner turmoil. Both women had seen enough by now to know—when Yun Che stepped into a trap, it was only because he already held the key to spring it shut on his enemies.
What trick will he pull this time?
The attendant produced his own set of chips, equal in weight and worth—1,000 gold coins' value laid neatly on the table. His smirk was razor-thin. "Shall we begin the game?"
"Likewise," Yun Che replied, voice calm and steady.
"What game will the young master favor first?" the attendant asked, though his tone carried the smugness of a spider asking a fly where it would like to sit in the web.
Yun Che tapped the edge of his chips lightly, as though bored. "Let's start with something basic. Big and Small."
At that, Qingyue tilted her head slightly, her frosty gaze sliding toward Mulan. What is that? she asked silently.
Mulan's voice brushed into her mind, steady and matter-of-fact. Three dice are placed in a cup, shaken, then revealed. If the total is less than ten, it's Small. Greater than ten, it's Big. The gambler wagers on which it will be.
"I see," Qingyue murmured, her icy eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they fell upon the attendant. A game of chance—or rather, a game of controlled outcomes.
The attendant's grin widened, teeth flashing. To him, this was child's play. The dice in his hands were no mere ivory—they were hollowed, weighted, and charmed. If Yun Che wagered Big, the dice would tumble low. If he wagered Small, they would fall high. The house never lost.
And yet Yun Che sat there, relaxed, stacking his chips into neat little towers as though time itself bent to his leisure. He met the attendant's grin with one of his own—small, amused, and dangerously unreadable.
"Shall we?"
A hush fell over the table as a striking woman stepped forward, her movements practiced and elegant. Clearly, this wasn't her first night as a dealer. With a faint smile, she set the three dice into a carved cup, her wrists flicking with fluid precision as she rattled and spun them. The sound of ivory clicking against wood filled the air, sharp and rhythmic—meant to stir nerves, to cloud judgment.
The cup landed with a muted thud. She slid it across the table with a single graceful push. "Big or Small?"
Yun Che leaned back, his lips curling into a smirk. His gaze flicked once to the attendant, then to the covered dice. They think it's a guess. But with the right eyes… it's a gift.
Without hesitation, he pushed every last chip into the center. All ten. All 1,000 coins.
"Big."
Gasps rippled through the room. A few gamblers abandoned their own games to crowd around, whispering furiously.
"All in?!"
"Is this brat insane?!"
"No one throws everything on the first roll!"
The attendant's smirk twitched. Reckless fools were easy prey, but to shove the entire loan on a single call… that took either stupidity—or terrifying confidence.
The dealer lifted the cup with a flourish. The dice clattered into view. Three fives.
Fifteen. Big.
The crowd erupted.
"He won?!"
"Impossible!"
"Beginner's luck! He'll lose it all next round, just watch!"
The attendant's jaw clenched before he forced a tight smile. "Heh… no matter. We'll let him win a round."
Meanwhile, Yun Che calmly collected his new pile of chips—twenty wooden bars stacked neatly before him, gleaming like bricks of solid gold. Two thousand coins, just like that.
He didn't cheer, didn't gloat. He only rested his chin on his hand, eyes half-lidded in amusement as though this were the most natural outcome in the world.
The crowd's whispers only grew louder.
"Who is this guy?"
"No one gets that lucky!"
"Is he blessed by the heavens, or cursed by the devil?"
And Yun Che's smirk only deepened.
Mulan's voice fluttered in his mind, half incredulous, half impressed. "Wow, you're really lucky."
Yun Che's smirk widened. "Luck? Luck has nothing to do with this."
"Why are you saying so?"
"I told you. I cheat—legally." His tone was maddeningly casual. "I used Haki to probe the dealer. They're trained to swap dice at the last second, always watching the gambler's lips. I mouthed the word 'small,' and they tried to counter it. But their spiritual form flickered when they switched—intentions leaking everywhere."
A rare note of surprise colored Qingyue's usually cool voice. "Haki… can be used like that?"
Yun Che chuckled. "Don't get any ideas. If either of you use it to gamble, I'll reseal it myself."
That teasing jab had the exact effect he wanted. Mulan bristled. "You…! I would never stoop to such sinful acts!"
Qingyue's reply was quieter but firm. "…I am not going to gamble. Ever. This is nothing but a rigged game."
Unbothered, Yun Che leaned lazily on his hand, eyes gleaming. "Anyway, even without Haki, my eyes can see the dice as clear as daylight. So technically, I didn't guess—I simply told the truth."
Mulan exhaled in exasperation. "This really is cheating legally."
Qingyue gave the faintest nod. "…Indeed."
The attendant's smile was strained now, though he masked it with a courteous bow. He slid out another stack of chips. "Another round, young master?"
"Certainly." Yun Che's tone was light, as if he were merely humoring them.
The dealer picked up the dice cup again, her movements practiced and elegant. She caught the attendant's subtle signal—this time, she would switch at the last second and crush his confidence. One win was plenty; they couldn't allow a second.
The dice rattled, then stilled. "Big or small?"
Yun Che leaned back, lips curling into a wolfish grin. Without hesitation, he pushed everything forward again. "Big."
Gasps rippled through the onlookers. All in? Again? If he won, that would make 4,000 coins. The dealer's hand trembled for just a heartbeat, but she flipped the cup with forced composure.
The dice gleamed under the lamplight—triple sixes. Eighteen.
The hall erupted in shouts of disbelief. The dealer went pale. She knew she had switched them—her fingers had been perfect. Yet, at some point, the outcome had turned against her.
Yun Che smirked as moments before the reveal, he casually tapped the table with one finger, almost like a signal. The dice clicked softly, a faint shimmer in the air—his will snapping them back into their original state.
If they can cheat, his eyes seemed to say, then so can I.
The attendant's jaw tightened, rage boiling beneath his forced smile as Yun Che calmly dragged all forty chips to his side.
The crowd was slack-jawed, murmurs filling the hall. No one had ever seen someone go all in twice and come out untouched.
Only Mulan and Qingyue remained calm, their expressions steady. They already knew the truth—Yun Che wasn't lucky. He was cheating. Legally, of course.
The attendant forced a smile as he slid forward another stack of chips, though his thoughts were boiling over. Four thousand is already too much. If he wins again… foster father will kill me.
"Another round, young master?" The attendant began to grow desperate.
Yun Che smirked, stacking his chips lazily. "Really now? I wouldn't mind winning eight thousand gold coins."
The attendant's eye twitched. "This time, I will be dealing. You won't mind playing against me, young master?"
"Sure." Yun Che leaned back, utterly relaxed. "Deal however you want."
"I don't… quite know what you're talking about," the attendant said with a strained chuckle.
"Right," Yun Che replied, voice dripping with amusement. "I'm sure you can switch faster than the woman just now. She was good… but I imagine you'll fare better."
The attendant's lips curled into a sneer he couldn't fully hide. Stupid brat. I can deal and set the dice however I want. They don't call me Tian Hu, father's right hand, for nothing. This will be your last streak.
He began dealing, his hands a blur, the dice rattling so fast even trained gamblers would be left dizzy. With a sharp motion, he slammed the cup down and smirked triumphantly.
"Big or small?"
Yun Che didn't even blink. His gaze was calm, his grin sharp.
Yun Che pushed all his chips forward again, his voice light, almost bored.
"Small."
The crowd erupted.
"All in again?!"
"This brat must be blessed by Lady Luck herself!"
"Three in a row… I've never seen such madness!"
Tian Hu's lips curled in a cruel smirk as he shook the cup with lightning-fast hands. Haa… this will be your last win, brat. I've already set the dice myself. You won't escape this time.
He slammed the cup down and sneered, "Ah, young master, I'm afraid your little streak ends here. Winning three in a row is nothing but—"
"Oh?" Yun Che interrupted with a lazy smile. "You didn't even check the dice yet."
Tian Hu blinked. "Wha—?"
Yun Che tapped the table, utterly unhurried. "Go on. Show us."
With a scoff, Tian Hu lifted the cup—
—and froze. His attendants froze. The entire hall leaned forward.
Three dice. Each showing a single pip. A total of three—the smallest possible roll.
"What… the…?" Tian Hu's eyes bulged as the cup slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the table.
Yun Che rested his chin on his hand, smiling faintly. "Oh? Was I not supposed to get that number? Am I sensing a little foul play here?"
Gasps rippled through the hall. Patrons whispered in awe and suspicion.
Tian Hu's face drained of color. "You… uhh… c-congratulations, young master. Ahahaha…" His laugh was thin, trembling, desperate.
Damn it! Eight thousand coins?! Foster father will kill me! Tian Hu screamed inside his head, but all he could do outwardly was bow with shaking hands as Yun Che coolly pulled the mountain of chips toward himself.
"You know…" Yun Che stacked his chips leisurely, then swiveled in his seat to face the crowd. His voice suddenly deepened, resonant, layered with profound energy that rolled across the gambling hall like a drumbeat. "This is getting boring. Let's make it interesting."
Dozens of heads turned. The noisy chatter dimmed to a hush. Every gambler, dealer, and attendant leaned closer.
Mulan's heart skipped. What is he doing now?
In her mind, his voice slipped through like silk.
"Sorry, Mulan… I'm going to play dirty. I'll apologize to your father later."
"Wha—?!" Mulan nearly shot up from her seat, her eyes wide as saucers. He wouldn't…
Then Yun Che's words detonated in the room.
"Jin Zhuo has offered to pay all the debts of every gambler here—every single one of you crushed under this den's schemes. From today, you owe nothing."
The hall exploded.
"What?!"
"All debts?! Cleared?!"
"Did I hear him right?!"
Mulan's face went crimson as she slammed her palm over her mouth. "Che'er! Are you insane?!" she shouted across their link.
She even shouted outside the link.
Even Qingyue, normally an ice sculpture of composure, blinked rapidly, her cool façade fracturing. She had braced herself for one of his miracles… but this wasn't a miracle. This was open war.
Yun Che only smirked, reclining in his chair as if he hadn't just lit the fuse to burn Tian Heng's empire down in front of half the city.
"Che'er? Y–You… you're Mu Che?!" Tian Hu's voice cracked, his eyes bulging as if he'd just seen a ghost crawl out of the grave. The name alone froze the attendants stiff.
"The one who ruined our schemes… the thorn in father's side!"
"He's supposed to be dead—he's been gone for five years!"
"What in the hells…"
Yun Che leaned back, arms folded, smirking as if the whole hall belonged to him.
"Surprised?"
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"Did he just say Jin Zhuo will pay all the debts?"
"Impossible! That pauper noble? Even if he sold his mansion, wife, and daughter, it wouldn't cover a fraction of what's owed!"
"This brat must be mad!"
Tian Hu sneered, voice trembling with forced bravado. "Big words… debts like this number in the tens of millions! Even the heavens can't wipe it clean!"
Yun Che's smile sharpened. "Oh, but someone already has. Jin Zhuo himself signed an IOU. He agreed to take on everything—all of it, interest included through me. As of this moment, the debt belongs to the Jin Family." He tapped the wooden chips with a casual rhythm, every knock like a nail driven into Tian Hu's coffin. "But you? You and imbecile Tian Heng?—no more extortion, no more bled-dry lives. From today, you don't own these men and women anymore."
The hall went dead silent. Every gambler, every weary worker, every broken debtor stared at Yun Che as though he had torn open the clouds and let sunlight pour through for the first time in years. For them—the women trapped in brothels, the workers broken by endless shifts, the families strangled by extortion—his words were a blade severing their chains. Freedom, in the name of Jin Zhuo.
Mulan's breath caught. Her fingers trembled against her dress as her heart pounded. Che'er… you—
Her mind raced back to that night—the night he erased the mountain of debt crushing the Jin Family, millions of purple profound coins vanishing as if they were dust on the wind. She had thought that miracle stood alone, unmatched, a once-in-a-lifetime blessing.
But here he was, standing before an entire hall of broken souls, doing it again. No… this was greater. This was not just salvation—it was a call, a gathering of hearts.
This… this is what he meant. Not just clearing debts… but binding the suffering to Father. Turning despair into loyalty, chains into strength.
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Awe, fear, and a fragile bloom of hope clashed inside her chest.
Qingyue's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her calm mask hiding the flicker of astonishment. So this is what you meant… binding the people's hearts to Mulan's father in one stroke.
The patrons erupted, voices overlapping like a wave crashing against stone.
"Our debts… gone?!"
"No more chains?!"
"We… belong to the Jin Family now?!"
Hope, disbelief, and fury collided in the air. The whole hall teetered on the edge of chaos—ready to either worship Yun Che as a savior or burn the place to the ground.
"Is this true? You're not pulling our legs?" a trembling voice asked from the crowd.
"No." Yun Che produced the parchment with a slow, deliberate flourish, the lamplight glinting off the seal. "I'm not lying. Here's the deed—signed by Jin Zhuo. It transfers the debts to me." He laid the contract on the table so everyone could see. "If Tian Heng signs this agreement, I will shoulder every last debt of the patrons—principal and interest. You will be free. In return, you will owe the Jin Family loyalty, nothing more."
A ripple of stunned, disbelieving whispers rolled across the hall.
"Insolent brat!" a massive voice thundered from above. A figure pushed through the upper gallery — a broad-shouldered man in battered leather armor, hair long and shot with gray, an axe slung across his back. He descended the stairs like an executioner approaching the scaffold.
"Tian Heng." The name hit the room like a gust of cold wind.
"Tian Heng… so nice to see you again," Yun Che said with a faint smirk, as if greeting an old acquaintance. His voice was casual, but it carried the weight of provocation.
"Tian Hu! How dare you—" the burly man barked, and the attendant's face drained of color.
"Foster father!" Tian Hu choked, panic cracking his voice. "You—you're in for it now, brat! You wrecked things before. You were supposed to be dead!"
Tian Heng's shadow fell over the table. He sized Yun Che up with the kind of contempt only a ruined man can give. "You were supposed to be dead," he repeated, teeth bared. "Do you know what you cost us? This den is my life. You ruined it once."
Yun Che's smile sharpened like a blade. "Disappointed?" he asked lightly. "Mulan told me how I dismantled your gambling house before. I don't mind doing it again."
Murmurs swelled into a din. Tian Hu's earlier bravado crumpled into dread. Above them, the patrons pressed forward, hope and fury tangling in their eyes — for some, this was freedom handed to them; for Tian Heng, it was a declaration of war.
Tian Heng laughed once, without humor. "Sign?" he snarled, sweeping a hand at the parchment. "You'd make me bind my name to Jin Family's charity and hand you my life? Do you think I'll sign away everything for your noble theatrics?"
"Who said Jin Family shouldering the debt?" Yun Che said low, the smirk gone from his face. "Refuse to sign, and I'll tear this place down — again — like before. This hall falls; your thugs scatter; and the people you bleed will come for you. Sign, and the people go free under the Jin Family but I will shoulder the debt. Refuse, and you choose whose side the city remembers."
For a moment the gambling house held its breath. Tian Heng's hands tightened on the axe. Tian Hu's face was ashen; his fate, once hidden behind confident sneers, was now naked and obvious. The patrons' hope shone like a blade in the gloom.
"Insolent!" Tian Heng roared and raised his axe in one sweeping arc meant to take a head.
The blade never reached Yun Che. A red shaft flashed between them — long, humming with violent intent — and slammed the axe aside. The assailant staggered back as the spearhead bit through leather and wood and sent a shockwave across the floor.
Tian Heng's eyes bulged. He stepped back and saw the woman who held the spear: veiled, composed, every motion economical and deadly. For a beat he read the face and understood. "This… this is Jin Mulan?!" he spat, disbelief and rage mixing with the recognition.
Mulan's voice came low, cold beneath the veil. "Tian Heng. It's been a long time."
A hush cut through the hall. The Zhang patriarch paled beside him. Yun Che, meanwhile, slid down off his chair, every step measured. He did not look like a man about to beg or bargain—he looked like a blade already drawn.
The air still vibrated from Mulan's spear strike. The red haft shimmered faintly, and with it the weight of her cultivation bore down. The entire den felt suffocated — gamblers who once jeered now struggled to breathe, thugs who once swaggered trembled like beaten dogs.
Third Level of the Emperor Profound Realm. That pressure was unmistakable. Even those who couldn't name it instinctively recognized: this woman was a wall they could never climb.
Tian Heng's lips went dry. He is nothing but a Peak Earth Profound Realm in terms of strength, with Elder Fang's assassination attempt against the princess had failed, and now — the very princess of the Jin Family herself stood in the heart of his stronghold, uninjured, alive, and radiating authority. Not to mention their target, Imperial Princess Cang Yue is still alive. As long as she lived, no excuse, no bribe, no alliance could cover his clan's crimes.
And Yun Che…
The youth's smirk was infuriatingly calm, like he'd been planning this storm long before it broke.
Tian Heng laughed, but it had no warmth. "You must be mad. Do you know what you ask? Debts here—across the city—amount to hundreds of millions. Three hundred sixty-seven million purple profound coins, at least. Purple, not gold. Do you think Jin Zhuo—" He spat the name like a curse. "You're crazy to suggest he can shoulder that!"
"Did I stutter?" Yun Che's smile cut like glass. "I said I will be the one who shoulder it."
For a heartbeat the whole den waited — the gamblers, the debtors, the men behind Tian Heng. Then Tian Heng lunged again, axe slamming down in a fury of motion meant to end the conversation. The axe carved air and struck only spear. Mulan did not scream; she redirected the blow with a flick, the shaft of her spear singing. Sparks flared as axe met iron. Men shouted. The room smelled of fear and oil and hot metal.
Yun Che moved like winter light. He didn't charge; he stepped in a single, silent pace. With an economy of motion he unshouldered a folded parchment and spread it flat on the table—Jin Zhuo's name and seal stamped across it in heavy crimson. The contract was complete, binding. The ledger had been signed and witnessed by the Jin Family notary. The deed was real.
"How…?" Tian Heng's sneer cracked. "That seal—no one forges the Jin Family seal. Including the seal of the Imperial Family. They—"
"Jin Zhuo did sign it," Yun Che said. "And I hold a guarantor's bond. Transfer all the debts to me and those people you're holding on? They will belong to the Jin Family."
A tense minute stretched. Tian Heng's men pressed close, hands on weapons. Yet around the edges, a different sound swelled — murmurs at first, then a roar rising from the tables: debtors realizing they might be free, workers imagining homes returned, the corner of the den tilting toward rebellion.
Tian Heng's jaw worked. Pride and fear grappled in him, and his hand — the same hand that had bashed and extorted for a decade — trembled as he reached for the stylus. He spat into the dirt. "You expect me to sign and admit defeat in front of my own men?"
"Hey, their debts are paid, and I will be in literal debt to you. It's easy to find me right? A man who has a debt of 367 million purple profound coins to your gambling house." Yun Che said softly.
Men he had bribed and controlled flinched at the words. The gambler's eyes, the workers who had been beaten and shamed—hope sharpened into something dangerous.
Tian Heng glared at the parchment. He looked at the gathered faces: his patrons, his thugs, the debtors he had broken. The axe at his back felt heavier than it had before. Finally, with a snarl that dragged between pride and inevitability, he set his callused hand to the paper. His signature scraped loud as a bell in the stunned silence.
The hall erupted — not in applause but with raw, chaotic noise: some cursed, some wept, some laughed until they hiccupped with shock. Men who had not slept without fear in years hugged one another like drowning people clutching driftwood.
Tian Hu stared at the newly signed document like a man staring at his own coffin. "You—" he rasped at Yun Che, bloodless and beaten in the face of the sudden turn. "Foster father, if you sign this… we lose all our workforce."
"You forgot one thing," Yun Che said, and his voice was not a taunt but a fact. "People remember who freed them."
Mulan lowered her spear a little, eyes taking in the change like a tide turning. Around the room the shift quickened: patrons who had been cattle now opened their mouths with words of freedom; workers walked straight up to counters and reclaimed bracelets and papers; a few of Tian Heng's thugs, seeing the tide, quietly melted into the crowd.
Her father slowly gained supporters. If all these men behind him, his reinstatement will have an impact. Xuanwu City will be returned to the Jin Family.
Qingyue watched with an icy expression seeing Yun Che's confidence.
"Insolent!" Tian Heng bellowed, axe raised, venom in every syllable. "If you can't pay me right now, I'll kill you where you stand!"
He said it like a promise — after all, with the debts consolidated into one hand, a single order could ruin or slay any man here.
Yun Che didn't flinch. He folded his arms and smiled, the smile that had already unmoored half the room. "Crazy is one word for it," he said lightly. "But let's be practical."
He laid his terms out like rumors being hammered into law. "This deed will transfer every man and woman bound to you to the Jin Family. Sign it and the debts become ours — not their chains. From now on the former debtors repay the Jin Family five percent of their wages. No usury, no forced servitude, no brothels, no protection fees. Those who were bound are released. Those who were sold or rented out are returned. They work, they pay five percent, and the rest is theirs." He tapped the contract. "They answer to the Jin Family, not to thugs like you."
A stunned silence followed, then a ripple of incredulous hope washed through the crowd.
Tian Heng's face turned a darker red than the lantern flames. "You bastard!" he spat. "You don't know what you're asking. The money flowing through this den—those people are my lifeblood. I won't sign away decades of profit."
"You won't sign?" Yun Che arched an eyebrow. "Then consider tonight the last night this den stands. I kicked you out before. I'll do the same again — only cleaner." His voice hardened. "Their debts are paid. You have no reason to hold them back."
"Try me!" Tian Heng roared, then swallowed as the murmurs grew louder and angrier around him. The very patrons he'd fleeced were no longer silent. Faces that had been bowed with shame straightened with a new, dangerous pride.
"We can be free?" a gaunt man asked from the crowd, voice trembling between disbelief and joy.
"We'll serve the Jin Family—if Jin Zhuo clears our debts!" a woman cried, clutching the torn IOU in both hands.
The hall swelled with names and promises. Men who had been cowed felt their voices return; women in the back wiped tears and laughed like people released from chains. Tian Heng's thugs shifted uneasily as loyalty peeled away from the man who had fed on them for so long.
Tian Heng's axe dropped a fraction—pride battling caution. In the end, the choice was his to make. If he signed, the debt is paid but he will lose unwilling workers. Maybe he can take the paid debts and start off somewhere as a rich man.
Around the table, the future of the den — and perhaps the city — tilted. The people had found someone willing to take their chains into his own hands. Their next words would decide whether this was the beginning of a movement or the last gasp of a dying house.
"I'm paying their debts," Yun Che said coldly, eyes fixed on Tian Heng. "Sign this deed and release them. Hurt or threaten a single soul after tonight, and I'll pay you back tenfold. We do this the easy way, or the hard way — your choice."
Tian Heng's jaw flexed. He glared at the crowd, then back at the parchment. "I'll sign — if you defeat me."
"Oh?" Yun Che's smile was languid, almost bored. "So you picked the hard way."
"Mulan, Qingyue… step back." Yun Che's voice was casual, but there was steel beneath it.
The two women obeyed, drifting to the upper gallery. Their sudden display — Mulan's imposing aura and Qingyue's composed, lethal stillness — sent a ripple of shock through the hall. Even hardened thugs found their eyes dropping to the ceiling, realizing the scale of the forces arrayed against Tian Heng.
Yun Che, however, remained calm and still at the table, as if waiting for a recital to begin.
Tian Heng spat on the floor. "Without your women, you're just the same weakling you were before." He bared his axe and roared, "Draw your weapon, brat!"
"No need." Yun Che's voice never rose. He shifted his posture like a man adjusting in his chair.
Tian Heng lunged, axe arcing in a murderous cleave meant to split a skull. The whole room flinched: the strike was thunderous, intended to end the fight in one brutal stroke.
Yun Che moved like winter light. He reached out with a single, effortless push — not even a blade — and the axe shattered against the floor with a deafening crack. The thugs' mouths hung open.
Tian Heng staggered from the failed blow. Before he could recover, Yun Che rose and closed the distance in two steps. His fist struck true — precise, merciless — and Tian Heng sailed backward across the gambling hall, slamming into tables and scattering coins like a burst of dark rain.
Silence crashed down for a heartbeat.
"That was fast," someone breathed.
Yun Che returned to his seat without ceremony, palms flat on the table. "That concludes our business," he said simply, as though the moment had been nothing more than a polite interruption to his day.
Around him, the den changed. The patrons who had once trembled now leaned forward, hope and hunger wrestling on their faces. Tian Heng lay dazed and humiliated amid the wreckage of his own pride, and the path forward — whether by ink or by blade — had been decided in the span of a single, merciless exchange.
"All the debtors are now servants of the Jin Family," Yun Che declared, his voice carrying through the stunned hall. "You may bring your families to the Jin Watchkeep to live under its roof. There, you will be safe, fed, and free from harassment.
"But hear me well—" his tone hardened, eyes sweeping over them like steel, "—if you choose to stay behind, then you stand with Tian Heng. From this moment on, the Jin Family will show no mercy to our enemies.
"As for those who come under our banner—gambling is forbidden. You squander your future again, that debt will be yours alone."
For a heartbeat, silence held. Then the dam broke.
"We're free?!" one man gasped, voice cracking.
Tears spilled down weathered cheeks. Hardened men who had once carried blades for Tian Heng collapsed, sobbing into their hands. Women dragged from brothels clutched one another, wailing with joy. Shackled debts that had chained generations were gone in a breath.
The hall erupted in chaos—but this time, it was the chaos of liberation. Families clung together, rushing toward the Jin Watchkeep like exiles stumbling into paradise.
By Tian Heng's own deed, over three thousand souls had been bound to his gambling dens, brothels, and gangs. In a single night, they slipped through his fingers. In a single afternoon, the Jin Family gained three thousand loyal hands.
Jin Zhuo, already forewarned, had soldiers and scribes waiting. Through the long hours till dawn, names were recorded, houses prepared, and food distributed. The Watchkeep, once a hollow shell that had housed ten thousand kin in its prime, now breathed with life again.
On that night, five dens of vice were emptied. Brothels shuttered. Gangs broken apart. Tian Heng's grip bled dry.
The poorest noble house had, in one stroke, become the most beloved.
"Jin Zhuo!" someone shouted in the streets, a voice thick with hope.
"Jin Zhuo!" another echoed, then another, until the city shook with chants of his name.
Mulan stood amid it all, tears trembling in her eyes as she turned to Yun Che.
"See?" he said softly, smirking at her disbelief. "I told you we could win supporters for your father. He might be the city lord after Little Yue reinstate him but without supporters, it'll be hard."
"Che'er…" Her voice broke, hands pressed against her chest. "I… I don't know what to say. Just… thank you. Thank you…"
"You really are a man with odd methods," Qingyue said dryly, folding her hands as she watched the aftermath of the den's collapse.
"As long as the job's done," Yun Che replied with an easy grin. He wondered what chaos those other girls of his had sown on the other side of the city?
Mulan's voice cut in, steady and sharp. "What about the debt?" They stood at the center of the gambling arena; Tian Heng loomed outside like a cornered wolf, his men a ring of sullen iron.
"What debt?"
Tian Heng exploded before she finished. "You brat! You've ruined me—taken everything I built!" His hand clawed the air, knuckles white.
"Oh, that debt." Yun Che shrugged, calm as if discussing weather. "I still owe you 367 million purple profound coins." The number landed like a stone; the room seemed to tilt for a heartbeat.
"You better have that money ready, or—" Tian Heng spat the threat. "If you can't pay—"
Yun Che's smile went cold-funereal. He picked up the scattered wooden chips and let them fall through his fingers like coins. The hall's murmur dimmed to a watchful silence. "I could run. I could vanish and leave you with nothing but a memory. Mulan and I could deal with you right now. But that isn't my style to know I have debts on my waist. I have my honor." He paused, and the corner of his mouth edged up. "Who said I was going to pay you in cash?"
The look on Tian Heng's face split between confusion and rage. Around him, his lieutenants shifted; they smelled a new danger.
"Oh, I will 'pay'—" Yun Che continued, voice soft but iron-true, "—just not how you expect." He pushed the pile of chips across the table until they formed a neat column before him. "You're the city's expert at squeezing coins out of fools. So here's a simple proposal: you and I play. Use anything you want—dice, cards, your sleight-of-hand, your favored cheats. I'll take every trick you can throw at me."
Tian Heng barked a laugh that had no humor. "You? Gamble with me? You'll add more to your debt. Do you think—"
"—I don't think. I know," Yun Che interrupted, voice flat. He planted his palm on the table, hard as a benediction. "I will personally cover the 367 million purple profound coins by playing rounds of games with you. In other words, I win and wipe out my own debts. Everything ends today—by your own rules."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the hall. The freed debtors who had lingered out of vengeance pressed closer, eyes burning with vindictive hope. They wanted to see Tian Heng crushed—not by blades, but by the very games he had used to shackle them.
Tian Heng's pupils constricted. For the first time, he realized Yun Che wasn't mocking him—he was turning his entire empire into a stage. The dealer himself would sit across from the "debtor" and prove whether fortune was earned or stolen.
"If you lose," Tian Heng spat, his teeth bared like a beast's, "you'll crawl from here penniless and broken. Your name, your family, your women—they'll be chained under my house until the debt is mine in blood."
"If I lose, so be it." Yun Che leaned back, utterly unshaken. "But if you lose… the world will see Tian Heng stripped of every mask he wears. All debts, all chains, dissolved under the Jin Family seal." His voice cut through the hall like steel. "No excuses. No tricks. Just skill versus skill."
The crowd roared, some banging the tables, others shouting:
"Make him pay!"
"Break him at his own game!"
Tian Heng's axe thudded onto the floor beside his chair, the weight of it shaking the dice cups stacked on the table. His pride wouldn't allow retreat. "Fine. Then watch carefully, worms. You'll see why I was king of this pit for twenty years!"
Yun Che's grin was sharp, wolfish. He flicked a single chip into the center of the table, the clack echoing like a drumbeat. "Deal then. Let the people see the difference between pure skill… and rotten luck."
The dealer set the first game. Dice rattled in the cup. Every freed soul leaned forward, their breaths held, their vengeance resting on the outcome.
A silence as thick as tar settled. Tian Heng's chest heaved; his pride warred with his fear. Around them the whispers rose: the patrons who had been freed, the men who'd watched their oppressor humiliated—every pair of eyes in the den was a witness to the wager.