## Chapter 7: Envoys, Assassins, and Safety Pins
The manic *zap-zap-zap* of the discarded bow tie fading into the bushes felt like the closing note of Wang Ling's personal symphony of humiliation. Patriarch Li's booming laughter had diffused the immediate tension, transforming the bizarre light show into another eccentric marvel of the "Hidden Dragon." But for Wang Ling, the banquet remained an exquisite torture. He spent the remaining hours plastered in his seat, nursing a cup of suspiciously floral water, nodding mutely whenever addressed, and fervently wishing for a sinkhole to swallow the entire manor. When Fu finally signaled it was acceptable to leave, Wang Ling practically sprinted back to the sanctuary of the Restful Journey stable, shedding the fine robes like a molting insect and collapsing onto his cot. Fluffy received a relieved squeeze.
The next few days offered blessed monotony. He shoveled, brushed, fed, and organized. He played Pokémon, finally reaching the Rustboro City Gym. He avoided the main inn like it housed plague demons. Bin brought his meals with increased reverence, Fu offered respectful nods but thankfully less hovering, and Li Rong remained conspicuously absent. Lady Chen, however, seemed to have taken root. Wang Ling spotted her occasionally in the courtyard or common room, always observing him with that unnerving, calm curiosity. He learned to scurry faster.
The relative peace shattered one crisp morning with the sound of horns – deep, resonant blasts that echoed across Verdant Spring City, silencing the usual bustle. Wang Ling paused mid-shovel, looking towards the city gates. Even from the stable yard, he could see a commotion – guards snapping to attention, crowds parting, the faint shimmer of powerful wards flaring along the massive walls.
"Azure Dragon Court Envoy!" Bin gasped, rushing into the yard, his face pale with awe. "They've arrived early! For the tribute inspection!"
Wang Ling felt a flicker of unease. The Frostbloom Lilies were saved, thanks to his unintended rat-zapping, but the envoy's presence meant scrutiny. High-level scrutiny. He focused on mucking Stompy's stall, hoping to remain invisible.
His hopes were dashed when Old Man Fu appeared, looking unusually serious. "Wang Ling. The Envoy requests your presence. At the city gates. Immediately."
Wang Ling's shovel clattered to the floor. "Me? Why? I didn't do anything!" Panic flared. Had the bow tie incident reached celestial ears? Was bubble-blowing a capital offense in the higher realms?
Fu's expression was grave. "Patriarch Li sent word. The Envoy... inquired specifically about the one who saved the tribute. They wish to... acknowledge your contribution." He saw the terror in Wang Ling's eyes and added, more gently, "It is a great honor. But... tread carefully, Wang Ling. The Azure Dragon Court... their ways are different."
Different. That sounded terrifying. Fu practically had to push him out of the stable yard. Wang Ling trudged towards the main gate, Fluffy a comforting lump in his pocket, his mind conjuring images of celestial tribunals and divine punishments for inappropriate neckwear.
* * *
The scene at the city gates was imposing. Verdant Spring City's elite – Patriarch Li, Master An, Elder Wen, other recognizable faces – stood in a respectful semicircle. City guards lined the approach, radiating disciplined Qi. But all eyes were fixed on the small group standing just inside the gate.
There were three. The leader was a woman. She looked young, perhaps Li Rong's age, but her presence dwarfed everyone else. She wore robes of purest white, edged with intricate silver threads that seemed to writhe like captured lightning. Her hair was stark black, pulled into a severe knot held by a single, needle-like silver pin. Her face was beautiful but utterly devoid of warmth or expression, like sculpted ice. Her eyes, a piercing, unnerving silver, scanned the crowd with detached assessment. She radiated an aura not of brute force, but of absolute, chilling *authority*. This was no mere Foundation Establishment cultivator. This was Core Formation, at least, Wang Ling guessed, feeling his knees weaken. Beside her stood two attendants, a man and a woman, clad in simpler blue and silver, their auras sharp and watchful, easily at the peak of Foundation Establishment.
Patriarch Li stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Envoy Lian, welcome to Verdant Spring City. Your early arrival honors us. The tribute awaits your inspection, safe and sound thanks to..." He gestured towards Wang Ling, who was trying to melt into the cobblestones.
Envoy Lian's silver eyes snapped to Wang Ling. The detachment vanished, replaced by intense, analytical scrutiny. It felt less like being looked at and more like being dissected by lasers. Wang Ling felt utterly transparent, insignificant, and deeply uncomfortable.
"*This* is the one?" Her voice was clear, cold, and resonant, like a silver bell struck in a frozen cavern. It carried no malice, only profound, unsettling curiosity. "The Qi-less mortal who pacified the Spirit-Gnawers and revitalized the Frostbloom Lilies?" She took a single step forward. The air around her seemed to grow colder, sharper. "Explain the method."
Wang Ling swallowed, his throat dry. "I... I used a thing? A sound thing? High-pitched. And foil? Shiny foil? Scared the rats... the plants just... got better?" He fumbled, words tumbling out incoherently. He sounded like an idiot. He *felt* like an idiot.
A ripple of nervousness went through the city elders. They'd woven tales of sonic fury and divine healing. Wang Ling's pathetic description threatened to unravel the carefully constructed narrative of their savior.
Envoy Lian didn't react. Her gaze remained fixed, intense. "A 'sound thing'. 'Shiny foil'." She repeated the words without inflection. "Show me."
Wang Ling froze. Show her? The repeller? It was back in the shed. "I... I don't have it here..."
"Then demonstrate the principle," Envoy Lian commanded. It wasn't a request.
Wang Ling panicked. Demonstrate? How? Squeak Fluffy? Blow a bubble? He was about to stammer another refusal when he felt it – a subtle shift in the air, a prickle of malice hidden within the crowd's nervous energy. His System-honed, oblivious danger sense, born of constant low-grade terror in this world, screamed *WRONG*.
He didn't think. He reacted. Years of factory work dodging swinging pallet jacks instilled a decent duck-and-cover reflex. He threw himself sideways, away from Envoy Lian, towards Patriarch Li.
**THWUNK! THWUNK! THWUNK!**
Three projectiles, faster than sight, ripped through the space where he'd been standing. They weren't physical darts, but bolts of condensed shadow and corrosive Void Qi, aimed with lethal precision. They struck the heavy stone gate pillar behind where Wang Ling had been, melting through the enchanted stone like acid through paper, leaving sizzling, blackened craters. Assassins!
Chaos erupted. Guards shouted, drawing weapons. Cultivators flared their Qi, forming defensive barriers. Patriarch Li roared, shoving Wang Ling behind him. Envoy Lian didn't move, her silver eyes narrowing, scanning the crowd with icy focus. Her attendants blurred into motion, drawing slender, wickedly sharp blades that hummed with spatial distortion.
The assassins struck from within the crowd – three figures shedding illusionary disguises, their auras flaring with the dark, greasy feel of Void Cultivation, a forbidden path that siphoned life and reality itself. They were fast, mid-Foundation Establishment, their movements blurry, their forms flickering between solidity and shadow. Their target was clear: Envoy Lian. Wang Ling had simply been in the initial line of fire, a disposable obstacle.
One assassin lunged directly at Envoy Lian, claws extended, dripping Void Qi that hissed and cracked the air. Her attendant intercepted in a flash of blue-silver light, blades clashing against shadow-claws with a sound like tearing fabric. Another assassin unleashed a wave of darkness towards the city elders, forcing Master An and others to raise frantic shields. The third assassin, seeing Wang Ling exposed behind Patriarch Li, who was locked in combat with the second attacker, saw an opportunity. Perhaps the mortal was important? Or perhaps he was just in the way. The assassin blurred, materializing right in front of Wang Ling, a dagger of purest void aimed at his heart. It wasn't a physical blade; it was a tear in reality, promising utter annihilation.
Wang Ling saw death coming. He saw the swirling nothingness of the blade, felt the chilling drain of the Void Qi leaching the warmth from his skin. Time slowed. He couldn't dodge. He couldn't fight. He had nothing! No Swiss Army Knife, no hot sauce, no rubber duck! His hand instinctively flew up in a futile gesture to shield his face, fingers splayed.
*Ding!*
**[Host is experiencing Critical Existential Threat!]**
**[Contextual Reward Unlocked!]**
**[Reward Claimed: 1 x Pack of Stainless Steel Safety Pins (50 Count)]**
A small, cardboard-backed package of shiny metal safety pins appeared in Wang Ling's upraised, shielding hand. The assassin, mid-thrust, saw only a mortal raising a hand holding... something small and metallic? Irrelevant. The void dagger descended.
Wang Ling, acting purely on blind, panicked instinct, did the only thing he could think of. He fumbled with the cardboard backing, ripping it open, and grabbed a handful of the safety pins. He didn't throw them. He didn't brandish them. He just held them up, clenched in his fist, a pathetic cluster of tiny metal loops and sharp points, directly in the path of the descending void dagger. He squeezed his eyes shut.
The Void Blade struck the cluster of safety pins.
**Reality hiccuped.**
There was no clang of metal. No flash of light. Instead, there was a sound like a universe sighing in profound annoyance. The perfectly formed, reality-rending edge of the Void Blade touched the mundane, mass-produced stainless steel of the safety pins.
Concept met concept.
The Void Blade represented *Entropy*, *Annihilation*, the *End of Things*.
The Safety Pins represented *Connection*, *Fastening*, *Holding Things Together*.
Within the context of the Mortal Dust Province, the System-rewarded safety pins weren't just fasteners; they were **Anchors of Material Cohesion**. Their simple, fundamental purpose – to hold fabric together – was amplified into a localized, absolute law: *Things Shall Not Come Apart Here*.
The Void Blade, designed to unravel existence, met a field of absolute, enforced *togetherness*. It didn't pierce. It didn't cut. It... *fizzled*. The swirling nothingness collapsed inward on itself with a sound like a deflating balloon crossed with grinding glass. The corrosive Void Qi washing over Wang Ling recoiled, not repelled, but *unmade*, dissolved by the sheer, mundane insistence of *staying fastened*.
The assassin stared, dumbfounded, at his suddenly empty hand where the conceptual weapon had vanished. He felt... nothing. No backlash. No explosion. Just... absence. His weapon, forged from forbidden Void Essence, capable of piercing low-grade immortal defenses, had been negated by... *stationery*?
His moment of stunned disbelief was fatal. Envoy Lian, who had witnessed the impossible negation with her silver eyes wide for a fraction of a second, didn't hesitate. Her hand flicked. Not a grand gesture, just a subtle twitch of her fingers. A thread of silver light, finer than spider silk, lanced out. It didn't strike the assassin; it *wrapped* around the lingering taint of Void Qi clinging to him. The assassin had time for one choked gasp before the silver thread *pulled*. Not physically, but metaphysically. The Void Cultivation embedded in his core, his very connection to the forbidden power, was neatly, surgically *excised*. He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, not dead, but utterly, permanently severed from his power, reduced to a gasping, empty husk.
The other assassins, seeing their comrade fall to such casual, terrifying precision, faltered. Envoy Lian's attendants pressed their advantage. Blades flashed, not with elemental fury, but with precise, spatial-severing strikes. One assassin screamed as his shadow-form was pinned to solid reality and bisected. The third tried to dissolve into darkness, but a net of silver light woven by Envoy Lian herself snapped into existence, capturing him mid-transition. He hung in the air, struggling against bonds that seemed to bind his very essence.
The fight was over in seconds. The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the gasps of the city elders and the whimpers of the captured assassin. Guards rushed forward to secure the prisoners and the depowered one.
Wang Ling slowly lowered his hand, still clutching the safety pins. He looked at the pins, then at the collapsed assassin, then at the small, blackened spot on the cobblestone where the Void Blade had vanished. He felt cold sweat drenching his back. He'd almost died. Again. He'd held up... safety pins? And the scary knife just... poofed? "Lucky...?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling. "Must have... jammed his magic knife?"
No one heard his whisper. All eyes, wide with shock and dawning terror, were fixed on him. They hadn't seen the Void Blade fizzle against safety pins. They'd seen Wang Ling raise a hand holding *something small*, and the lethal assassin weapon aimed at his heart simply... *cease to exist*. Then the Envoy had casually excised the assassin's power. The sequence was clear: the Hidden Dragon had effortlessly negated the attack, and the Envoy had merely cleaned up the mess.
Even Envoy Lian was looking at Wang Ling differently. The cold analytical curiosity was still there, but layered with a new, profound intensity. She had *felt* it. The Void Blade hadn't just been blocked; its fundamental principle had been instantly, irrevocably *countermanded* by whatever the mortal held. It wasn't power she recognized. It was... *conceptual enforcement*. And he had done it while looking like he was about to faint. She strode towards him, ignoring Patriarch Li's attempts to speak.
Wang Ling flinched as she stopped before him. Her silver eyes bored into his. "What did you wield?" Her voice was still cold, but held an edge of something else – demand? Awe?
Wang Ling, terrified, held out his trembling hand, opening his palm. A dozen ordinary stainless steel safety pins gleamed dully in the sunlight. "S...safety pins?" he stammered. "For... for fixing clothes? I... I just grabbed them? I thought... maybe I could poke him? Or something?" He sounded utterly pathetic.
Envoy Lian stared at the mundane objects. Her senses probed them. Simple metal. No Qi. No inscription. No trace of power. Yet... the residue of the Void Blade's negation clung to them like frost on glass. The contradiction was staggering. She reached out, not to take them, but to hover a finger millimeters above the pins. She felt... nothing. Only the cold certainty of their recent, impossible action.
"Safety pins," she repeated, the words tasting alien. "For... fixing clothes." She withdrew her hand, her expression unreadable. She looked from the pins to Wang Ling's terrified face, then to the scorch marks on the gate pillar, then to the captured assassins. The implications were vast, terrifying. This Qi-less mortal carried artifacts, or perhaps *was* an artifact, capable of countering Void Essence – a power even the Azure Dragon Court struggled to contain. Accidentally? Deliberately? It defied comprehension.
She turned to Patriarch Li, her voice regaining its icy composure, but carrying a new weight. "The tribute is satisfactory. Verdant Spring City has fulfilled its obligation." She paused, her gaze flicking back to Wang Ling. "This one... Wang Ling. He will accompany me back to the Azure Dragon Court."
Wang Ling's blood ran cold. "What? No! I... I have to muck the stables! Master Fu needs me! The Sky-Donks..." Panic surged, raw and desperate. Accompany her? To the *celestial court*? Where beings like her were common? It was a death sentence wrapped in honor!
Patriarch Li looked stunned, then deeply conflicted. Losing their "Hidden Dragon" was a blow, but refusing an Envoy of the Azure Dragon Court? Unthinkable.
Envoy Lian ignored Wang Ling's protest. "His presence is required. For... further study." Her tone brooked no argument. "Prepare him. We depart within the hour." She turned and walked towards her captured prisoner, her attendants falling in step.
Wang Ling stood frozen, the safety pins digging into his palm. Accompany her? Study? He pictured dissecting tables and curious, silver-eyed beings probing him with celestial scalpels. He looked wildly at Fu, who had pushed through the crowd, his face pale but alight with a terrifying mix of fear and religious fervor.
"The Azure Dragon Court summons you, Wang Ling!" Fu whispered, grabbing his arm, his grip surprisingly strong. "This is... this is beyond Verdant Spring! Your path... it unfolds! We must obey!"
"Obey? Fu, I'll die! I don't know anything! I just fix things with... with junk!" Wang Ling hissed, waving the safety pins.
"Your 'junk' unmade a Void Blade!" Fu hissed back, his eyes wide. "You stand before an Envoy who sees your worth! This is destiny!"
Before Wang Ling could argue further, a calm, melodious voice cut through his panic.
"If I may, Envoy Lian?" Lady Chen stepped forward, bowing gracefully. "Wang Ling is... unfamiliar with travel beyond the city. And his... methods... are unique. Perhaps an intermediary would be prudent? I am Mistress Lan, a scholar of esoteric phenomena. I offer my services to accompany and... assist Wang Ling in his journey to the Azure Dragon Court. To ensure his unique perspective is adequately conveyed." Her grey eyes met Envoy Lian's silver ones, a spark of understanding passing between them – the scholar recognizing the opportunity for unprecedented study, the Envoy recognizing a potential buffer for the bewildering anomaly.
Envoy Lian considered for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "Acceptable. Prepare them both." She turned away, focusing on the prisoner.
Lady Chen offered Wang Ling a small, enigmatic smile that held no comfort, only intense curiosity. "Adventure awaits, Wang Ling. Beyond the Mortal Dust."
Wang Ling looked from Fu's zealous face to Lady Chen's calm scrutiny to the retreating back of the terrifying Envoy. He looked down at the safety pins in his hand, then at the spot where a tear in reality had vanished against mundane metal. He thought of his stable, his Gameboy, his simple, terrifying life. All gone. Replaced by a journey to the realm of gods, escorted by a woman who studied soap bubbles and an envoy who froze souls with a glance, all because he'd panicked and held up office supplies.
He slumped, the fight draining out of him. "Fluffy," he whispered, pulling the plush dog from his pocket, "we are in so much trouble." The safety pins felt cold and heavy in his hand, tiny anchors in a reality that had just been violently ripped wide open. The cozy confines of Verdant Spring City were gone. The wider, infinitely more dangerous, and bewildering world of the Azure Dragon Court awaited. And Wang Ling, armed only with Fluffy, a dead phone, and a pack of safety pins, was its most unwilling, oblivious tourist. The adventure, terrifying and absurd, had truly begun.