The night market stank of fish guts, smoke, and desperation. Lanterns dangled from rotting beams, their yellow glow painting the mud road in uneven streaks. Voices rose and fell, haggling, cursing, threatening. A drunk staggered past me, spilling rice wine down his tunic. To anyone watching, I was just another face in the crowd, a thin youth with hollow eyes, clutching a bundle of firewood.
Inside, my mind was cutting apart every sound and word I heard.
This market was a hunting ground. Not for meat or gold — but for information. Men got drunk and careless here. Servants of minor clans boasted to prostitutes. Discarded disciples gambled away secrets for a handful of coppers. And tonight, I was here not for food, not for drink, but for whispers.
I took a seat at a low tavern, ordered the cheapest bowl of broth, and kept my head down.
That's when I heard it.
"…the Azure Fang Sect… the elders… a war, I tell you."
The words cut through the din like a blade. My hand froze on the bowl. I didn't raise my head, only let my ears drink in every word.
Two men sat at the table behind me. Voices slurred with alcohol, but sharp enough to recognize the weight of what they said.
"War? In the sect itself? Don't speak nonsense," one muttered.
The other laughed bitterly. "Nonsense? You blind dog. Elder Jian and Elder Xu — they're already at each other's throats. Jian's been feeding coin and weapons to gangs in the city. Xu's clan controls the grain routes. The sect master grows old… who do you think will succeed him? He won't live another three winters."
A pause. The man dropped his voice lower.
"Mark my words, brother. Inner war's coming. Those two tigers will tear the sect apart."
I lowered my head further, a shadow curling at the corner of my lips.
So. It begins.
* * * * * * * * *
In my first life, I only learned of this war after it had already split the Azure Fang Sect in half. By then, I was already entangled in their schemes, dragged like a pawn across their board until they crushed me underfoot. I had wasted decades building power, only to have it all swept aside by their conflict.
But now… now, I had the rumor before the spark.
Information was the sharpest blade in this world. I held the advantage no one else possessed: foresight.
The broth tasted like ash on my tongue, but the fire in my chest was sharp and alive.
Think. What does this change?
If Jian and Xu were preparing for succession, then every move in the outer city was part of their war. Jian's support of the Crooked Daggers suddenly made perfect sense — they were nothing but pawns, expendable knives to destabilize Xu's influence.
And Xu? Grain routes. Logistics. Food was a weapon more powerful than steel. If I could choke his grain or poison his supply lines, Jian's forces would win… but Jian must not win. Not yet.
If either side gained dominance too early, they'd turn their full attention outward. Onto me. Onto the streets.
No, the balance must remain.
Two tigers fighting. I would be the vulture.
* * * * * * * * *
The drunks kept talking. One laughed about how the sect master was already coughing blood in his chambers. Another cursed that the coming war would mean higher taxes. Useless noise. But one phrase made my pulse quicken.
"…Xu's nephew was seen near the docks last week, negotiating with the Black Tooth smugglers."
Ah. That was valuable. Xu moving to secure outside alliances? Or perhaps a false move to bait Jian?
Either way, this was leverage.
I finished the broth, left a single copper, and slipped into the night. The streets were quieter now, though the shadows felt thicker. My mind ran faster than my feet.
I needed pawns. More than Min, more than a handful of thugs. A network. Whisperers in the markets, gamblers in the taverns, orphans in the alleys. A web so wide that when the sect's claws struck, they would grasp nothing but smoke.
And to build it, I needed coin. Coin meant trade. Trade meant risk.
I turned down a crooked alley and pulled the hood tighter around my head. Already, I was laying out the next three steps.
1. Spread whispers that Jian's men are betraying him to Xu. Let paranoia eat them alive.
2. Feed Xu's people false information about Jian's strength, drawing them into premature strikes.
3. Seize control of the neutral gangs who wish to stay out of the war. Once both sides weaken, those neutrals will look to me for protection.
Slow. Careful. No sudden moves. My life depended on patience.
* * * * * * * * *
A rat squeaked nearby. My hand instinctively brushed the dagger at my belt.
I remembered Bao. His eyes wide as the blade entered him. His usefulness ended, his life cut short. It should have troubled me. In my first life, I would have grieved. Now, it was simply another stone laid on my path.
This was the difference between living once… and living twice.
I walked the narrow road toward the crumbling shrine I had claimed as my den. The air smelled of damp moss and rot. Inside, Min was waiting, sitting cross-legged by the fire pit. His face lit up when he saw me, eager, desperate for approval.
"Brother! Did you hear? More Crooked Daggers were slaughtered last night. They're saying Xu's men—"
I cut him off with a raised hand. My voice was low, measured.
"I heard. And I know more than you. Tell me, Min. Do you want to rise above the gutter?"
His eyes widened. "Of course!"
"Then listen. From this night on, you're not just a rat running errands. You'll be my ears in the markets. Every whisper you hear about Elder Jian or Elder Xu, you bring to me. Don't question, don't judge. Just listen."
He swallowed hard, nodded rapidly. "Y-yes, brother."
Good. A pawn eager to please was easier to move.
I leaned closer, my shadow falling over him.
"And Min… if I find you holding back even a single word, if you think you can sell what you hear to another… I will gut you and leave you for the crows. Understand?"
His face went pale. He nodded so fast his neck might have snapped.
Fear. Loyalty born of terror was stronger than loyalty born of kindness.
* * * * * * * * *
That night, lying on the cold stone floor, I stared at the cracked ceiling of the shrine. The city hummed faintly outside, alive with secrets.
In my first life, this war had been the beginning of my downfall. In this one, it would be the foundation of my rise.
War is coming.
And I would be ready.
* * * * * * * * *
Morning broke like a blade splitting the night, thin light cutting through the grime-caked shutters of the shrine. I hadn't slept. Sleep was a luxury for fools who thought the world was fair. My body lay still, but my mind ran ceaselessly, grinding, calculating, arranging pieces across a board only I could see.
The rumor of war was no longer just knowledge. Knowledge was useless unless sharpened into a weapon. What I needed now was control of perception.
One rumor whispered in the right ear was worth more than ten blades. Rumors shaped fear. Fear moved men. And men, when moved, became my pieces.
* * * * * * * * *
Min woke with a start, blinking at me with the awkward guilt of someone who had slept too soundly. I had already risen, already washed in the icy basin at the corner.
"You're awake early, brother," he muttered.
"I never slept," I replied. My voice was calm, flat. "Today, you'll earn your place."
His eyes widened, part dread, part excitement. I tossed him a small pouch of copper coins. "Go to the southern market. Pay three gamblers to spread this tale: a merchant caravan belonging to Xu's clan was ambushed last night. The attackers? Jian's men."
Min swallowed. "But… was it true?"
I stared at him, long and cold, until his face drained of color. "Truth does not matter. Only what men believe."
He nodded quickly, clutching the pouch like it was salvation.
I let him scurry away. Good. His hesitation proved useful; I needed to shape his thinking. Fear and obedience were easy enough, but what I required from Min was something rarer — an instinct for deceit. If he could learn that, he would last. If not… his corpse would feed the alley rats.
* * * * * * * * *
When he was gone, I left as well, moving through the city as shadows stretched long across the streets. The southern market was already alive. Merchants shouted, hawking spices and silks, while beggars coughed and children wailed. On the surface, it was noise. But beneath it? Beneath it was a river of undercurrents, each stall and alleyway carrying whispers from clan to clan, sect to sect.
And whispers could be nudged.
I made my way toward the gambling dens. Dice rattled, coins clinked, curses filled the smoky air. Men who lived and died by chance were the easiest tools for rumor. Their tongues were loose, their pride demanded boasting, and once they lost enough coin, they would sell their mother's name if asked.
I slipped into a corner, hood drawn. My eyes scanned the tables. Three men in particular caught my attention — one loud, one drunk, one desperate. Perfect seeds.
* * * * * * * * *
I approached the loud one first, dropping two coins onto the table as he cursed at his dice. His eyes flicked up, suspicious.
"New blood? Careful, boy. These streets eat pups like you."
I leaned closer, my voice low, conspiratorial. "You think these dice are dangerous? You've no idea. Jian's men are butchering Xu's caravans even now. Grain won't reach the city by winter."
I let the words drip into his ear, then walked away without another glance. Not too much, not too little. Enough to itch.
Next, the drunk. I pressed a cup of cheap wine into his hands, his eyes glassy with thanks. "Drink," I said softly, "before Jian's dogs steal the last of it. They say Xu's routes are failing. Even wine will run dry soon."
He laughed stupidly, but his lips were already forming the words to repeat.
Finally, the desperate one. His fingers trembled as he placed his last coin. I let him lose, then leaned down as though pitying him. "Don't fret. The streets will flow red before the month ends. Jian and Xu will see to that. Bet your life on it."
I left him staring after me, pale and shaken.
Three seeds, scattered in fertile soil.
Now, I waited.
* * * * * * * * *
By noon, I was back at the shrine, watching Min return, sweat-soaked, clutching the empty pouch. His eyes darted nervously as he entered.
"Well?" I asked.
"They… they spread it. I swear. I told them what you said, and they told others. But…" He hesitated.
"But?" My tone was ice.
He swallowed. "The gamblers laughed. They said everyone already knows Jian and Xu are moving against each other. That… that your words only confirmed what they suspected."
A slow smile tugged at my lips. Perfect.
Suspicion was the soil. My rumor was only water. And now, it was spreading.
* * * * * * * * *
The next day, whispers ran wild. In the tavern, I overheard a serving girl tell a drunk that Xu's caravans had vanished. In the market, a merchant cursed Jian's men for bleeding the streets dry. At the docks, dockhands muttered that both elders were stockpiling weapons.
By the second night, the city was alive with paranoia. Every shadow was Jian's spy. Every caravan that arrived late was a sign Xu's routes had been cut.
None of it was true. But all of it was believed.
That was power.
* * * * * * * * *
Min returned, trembling, his eyes wide. "Brother! People are saying Xu will raise his banners within the month. They're saying Jian's already recruiting in the slums!"
"Good," I murmured. "Now the city will devour itself while the truth remains silent."
He gawked at me, sweat dripping down his brow. "But if it's not true… won't they find out?"
"Truth," I said softly, "is the first corpse in any war."
* * * * * * * * *
Later that night, I sat at the shrine, candle burning low, eyes closed as I pieced together the growing web. Already, Jian's pawns — the Crooked Daggers — had grown restless. They had been accused of killings they had not yet committed. Xu's allies in the docks were uneasy, suspecting spies among them.
This was only the beginning. My rumors would not decide the war. But they would decide when the war began. And in timing, there was opportunity.
If I could force Jian and Xu into clashing too early, both would bleed before their preparations were complete. When the dust settled, when their strength waned… I would be there, a shadow among corpses, to claim what remained.
This city was a carcass, and the sects were wolves. But I? I would be the maggot, small, unseen, inevitable.
* * * * * * * * *
The candle sputtered out. Darkness filled the shrine.
I lay back, silent, listening to the city hum. The seeds had been planted. Soon, they would sprout. And when they did, I would harvest chaos.
War was coming. And this time, it would not bury me.
This time, it would raise me.