The next few days were fraught with a tense anticipation for Lâm Minh.
He continued his usual routines – scavenging, cultivating, attending school – but a part of his mind was constantly on the dead drop location he had given Tố Quyên for Mai Linh's family.
He had chosen it carefully: a loose brick in a crumbling, rarely visited alley wall in a relatively neutral commercial district, away from both the Rust Market's chaos and the more heavily patrolled Inner Wards. It was inconspicuous, yet accessible.
He didn't check it immediately, not wanting to draw attention to himself or the location.
He waited three days, giving Mai Linh's family time, if they chose to act, and allowing any potential surveillance (unlikely, but he was always cautious) to move on.
His Qi Refining cultivation was now tantalizingly close to a breakthrough.
[Cultivation Progress: Qi Refining Stage – Middle Phase (98% progress towards Major Completion).]
He could feel the Qi in his Dantian becoming denser, more potent.
Major Completion felt just within reach.
He resisted the urge to push too hard, too fast, focusing on stability and purity.
On the third evening, under the cloak of a moonless night, Lâm Minh approached the dead drop.
He moved like a phantom, his Qi Sense scanning his surroundings for any hint of observation.
The alley was deserted, filled only with the rustling of unseen vermin and the distant hum of the city.
He reached the loose brick, his heart beating a little faster than usual.
He carefully pried it open.
Inside the small cavity, there was a single, folded piece of cheap, recycled paper.
His fingers, surprisingly steady, retrieved it.
He replaced the brick, ensuring it looked undisturbed, then melted back into the shadows before examining his find.
Under the dim glow of a distant streetlamp in a safer location, he unfolded the paper.
The handwriting was hurried, almost frantic, but legible.
It was a list.
Names – mostly street names or crude nicknames of Skull members.
Locations – specific street corners, abandoned shacks, and even a derelict community hall that seemed to be a local distribution hub for Crimson Dream.
And times – an approximate schedule of when deliveries were made, when dealers were most active.
There was even a crude map of a small section of Mai Linh's residential block, marking observed Skull lookouts and stash spots.
Lâm Minh's eyes scanned the information, his mind quickly processing it.
This was gold.
Raw, unverified, and undoubtedly dangerous to act upon, but it was precisely the kind of ground-level intelligence he'd hoped for.
Mai Linh's family, driven by desperation, had taken a significant risk and delivered.
A wave of respect, mixed with a sobering sense of responsibility, washed over him.
These ordinary people, armed with nothing but courage and a desire to protect their loved ones, had done what trained Enforcers had failed to do.
He memorized the contents of the note, then, as a precaution, burned it to ash.
The information was now safely stored in his mind, and more importantly, within the System's data banks, should he need to recall precise details.
Now came the hard part: what to do with it?
His first instinct was to pass it directly to Yan for Commander Trinh.
This was, after all, his official mandate – gather intelligence.
But Trinh's methods were slow, cautious, filtered through layers of bureaucracy, even within her "discreet department."
By the time they vetted the information and decided on a course of action, more people could get hurt.
Tố Quyên's plea, Mai Linh's family's bravery, echoed in his mind.
He considered his other option: act on it himself. Or, more accurately, use his network.
Hạnh, Cường, and Tuấn.
They were capable, knew the streets, and owed him favors.
They were also motivated by credits and a certain rough justice.
A targeted strike against a local Skull distribution point, if successful, could temporarily disrupt their operations in that specific block, provide some relief to the residents, and send a message.
It would also allow him to observe the Skulls' reaction, perhaps even force the hand of their mysterious supplier.
It was an incredibly risky move.
A direct confrontation with the Skulls, even a small part of their operation, could have severe repercussions.
If it went wrong, it could expose him, endanger Hạnh's crew, and bring the full wrath of Breaker down on them.
It could also jeopardize his larger mission for Commander Trinh if he was seen as an unsanctioned vigilante.
Yet, the potential rewards were also significant.
Success would not only help Mai Linh's community but could also yield valuable intelligence – captured drugs, ledgers, perhaps even a captured Skull member who could be… persuaded to talk.
And it would solidify his own growing influence, demonstrating that he was not just an informant, but someone capable of direct action.
He spent the rest of the night weighing his options, his mind a whirlwind of tactical scenarios and risk assessments.
His past life as a military commander, accustomed to making life-and-death decisions with incomplete information, warred with his current need for secrecy and gradual growth.
By dawn, he had made his decision. He would take a calculated risk.
He wouldn't launch a full-scale assault.
That would be suicidal.
Instead, he would target one of the smaller, more isolated stash spots identified in Mai Linh's note, preferably during a time when it was lightly guarded.
A quick, surgical strike. Get in, seize any Crimson Dream and intel, and get out before the Skulls could mount a significant response.
His first step was to approach Hạnh.
He found her supervising a salvage crew near the perimeter wall, her face grim as she dealt with a malfunctioning cargo lifter.
"Hạnh," he said, drawing her aside.
"I have some… sensitive information. About a Skull operation. A small one, but ripe for the picking. Profitable, too, if we play it smart."
Hạnh's one good eye narrowed. "What kind of information, Minh? And what kind of 'profit' are we talking about?"
Lâm Minh quickly and concisely outlined the intel from Mai Linh's note, without revealing its source.
He focused on a small, abandoned grocery store mentioned as a nightly drop-off and temporary storage point for Crimson Dream before it was distributed to street-level dealers in that block.
According to the note, it was usually manned by only two or three low-ranking Skulls late at night.
"If we hit it right," Lâm Minh concluded, "we could seize a significant amount of their product. That product has street value. Or, it could be… disposed of, sending a message and helping some folks out. And any information we find there could be even more valuable."
Hạnh listened intently, her expression unreadable.
She knew Lâm Minh wasn't prone to recklessness.
If he was suggesting this, he had a reason, and likely a plan.
"This is Skull territory, Minh," she said finally.
"They don't take kindly to poaching. Breaker would flay us alive if he caught us."
"Which is why we don't get caught," Lâm Minh replied calmly.
"It's a hit-and-run. Quick, quiet, efficient. In and out before they even know what happened."
"And what's in it for us?" Hạnh asked, though Lâm Minh could see a spark of interest in her eye.
She had no love for the Skulls, who were muscling in on everyone's territory.
"A share of whatever credits we can get from selling any other valuables found there – they often use these spots for other contraband too," Lâm Minh proposed.
"And the satisfaction of bloodying the Skulls' noses. Plus," he added, playing his trump card, "Old Feng might be interested in any… information we acquire about their suppliers. That kind of information can be very valuable to him."
Hạnh considered it.
The risk was high, but so was her dislike for the Skulls and her trust in Lâm Minh's capabilities.
And the potential favor from Old Feng was a powerful incentive.
"Alright, kid," she said after a long moment.
"I'm listening. Tell me your plan. And it better be a damn good one."
Lâm Minh allowed himself a small, internal smile.
The first piece was in place.
He then laid out his plan, detailing a stealthy approach, a coordinated takedown of the guards, a quick search for the drugs and any intel, and a swift, untraceable exfiltration.
He emphasized minimizing casualties if possible, focusing on incapacitation rather than killing, unless absolutely necessary – the tranquilizer darts Yan had given him would be useful here.
"Cường and Tuấn will need to be on board," Hạnh said.
"They won't do it just for kicks."
"I'm counting on that," Lâm Minh replied.
"The potential reward, and the chance to hit the Skulls, should be enough to convince them, especially with your backing."
Later that day, Hạnh spoke to Cường and Tuấn.
As Lâm Minh had predicted, the combination of potential profit, Hạnh's endorsement, and the allure of striking a blow against the increasingly arrogant Skulls was enough.
They were in, albeit with a healthy dose of nervous anticipation.
The target was set: the abandoned grocery store.
The time: 02:00 hours, two nights from now, when the Skulls' vigilance was likely to be at its lowest.
Lâm Minh felt a surge of adrenaline mixed with a cold, calculating focus.
He was stepping out of the shadows, moving from informant to operative.
He was taking a direct hand in shaping events, not just for himself, but for the desperate people like Mai Linh's family, and for Tố Quyên, who had unknowingly set this chain of events in motion.
This was a gamble.
A big one.
But as he looked at the determined faces of Hạnh, Cường, and Tuấn, he felt a nascent sense of comradeship, of a team, however ragtag, forming around him.
The Qi Refining stage was about refining Qi.
But perhaps, it was also about refining oneself, testing one's limits, and forging alliances in the crucible of a dying world.