The echo of the auctioneer's hammer still reverberated when the bidders began to leave the grand hall. The air —once thick with greed and anticipation— had shifted into something heavier, denser, charged with unspoken suspicion. The order imposed by the Miter Auction House still held… but only on the surface. Beneath it, something had cracked.
Zhu Xian slipped out through one of the side corridors, concealed by the veil of his spiritual cloak. His steps were steady, but his mind was a storm.
Not only because of the pill now resting safely in his spatial ring, but because of what he had felt: eyes darting away too quickly, hushed whispers that broke off as he passed, familiar faces hiding dangerous intent. And, above all, that sharp, unshakable sensation —as if the very ground beneath Black Mountain Fortress was beginning to fracture.
---
Tension Rising
Outside the hall, delegations dispersed slowly. Members of the Jian Ma Empire and the Yun Lan Sect, allies on paper in their campaign of reconquest, carefully avoided crossing paths.
The veneer of unity had shattered.
The acquisition of the Steps of the High Wind Sparrow movement technique by Yun Lan had not been part of the original agreement. That kind of resource was supposed to be shared —strategically reserved for joint training of elite troops ahead of the coming siege campaign. But Yun Lan had acted alone, breaking the one rule that mattered most: trust.
No one voiced their anger openly. No one wanted to ignite open conflict in public. But the stares —sharp, cold, and venomous— spoke louder than any declaration.
From the shadows, Zhu Xian watched. He knew the language of war before swords were drawn. And what he saw now were cracks forming —fault lines waiting for the first tremor.
The Jian Ma elders whispered among themselves. One of them lifted a sealed scroll, pulsing faintly with spiritual energy. Orders, no doubt. Orders that would be written tonight, signed in ink… and, later, perhaps in blood.
---
A City on Edge
The fortress itself seemed to sense it.
On the walls, patrols doubled that night. The jade lanterns hanging from the towers burned steadily but dimmer, as though their light recoiled from what was coming. Merchants shuttered their stalls early. Some quietly packed their belongings, their instincts screaming that the ground beneath their feet had turned dangerous.
Zhu Xian moved like a ghost through the streets. His attire had changed, his Qi perfectly suppressed. He made his way toward the hidden cave where Die Ba waited, but every shadow, every alley, whispered danger.
Rumors spread like wildfire:
That the alliance between Jian Ma and Yun Lan had fractured.
That the auction had been a trap to lure enemies into the fortress.
That a coup was being prepared to seize control of the mercenary council.
And among the whispers, one name kept surfacing —not a name, but a title: the stranger. The solitary bidder. The man who had thrown down one million gold coins without hesitation.
Zhu Xian understood what that meant. Soon, they would come for him. Some with questions. Others with blades.
---
Preparing for Chaos
Meanwhile, in the deeper levels of the citadel, local powerholders convened in secret chambers. Some argued for immediate allegiance to one faction. Others urged the fortress to seal its gates and wait. No one agreed on how long the fragile truce would hold.
The Yun Lan Sect moved with calculated precision. With the movement technique now secured, their agents were already tightening their network through the fortress. Their goal was simple: when war erupted —and it would— they would control the gates, the communications… and the fear.
At last, Zhu Xian reached the outskirts of the fortress, slipping into the hidden cave beneath the waterfall where Die Ba was waiting. Her eyes —always fierce— were shadowed with worry.
—Did you get it? —she asked, her voice sharp but quiet.
He nodded and revealed the pill, its faint glow shimmering in the dim light. Die Ba stared at it as though seeing a fallen star land in the palm of her hand.
—Then… —she began.
—We have to leave. —Zhu Xian's tone cut through her words. —This city is about to burn.
She didn't argue. She didn't need to. She could feel it too —the storm gathering, the promise of blood hanging heavy in the air.
Without another word, they climbed the narrow ledge leading out of the cave.
From above, the fortress loomed —a city where power and betrayal walked hand in hand.
And somewhere in those shadows, someone was already writing the next chapter… in blood.