Qian Fugui had "fallen ill."
The news drifted into Jiang Muchen's ears at dawn on the fourth day, carried by the first ribbons of steam rising from the volcanic vents behind the Earthfire Court. The servant Wang Duobao sent over hunched like a guilty rat, voice low—but unable to hide the feverish excitement bubbling underneath.
"Brother Jiang—heh—it worked! Qian Fugui staggered back from the Drunken Immortal Pavilion last night, and got hit with a sudden case of 'bone-eating miasma.' Broke out in red rashes, vomited three mouthfuls of black blood. He's in the alchemy wing now—three medical cultivators surrounding him!"
Jiang Muchen didn't turn around. He kept watching Lu Hanshan meditate in the steaming mineral pool, the morning light dancing over water and muscle.
"What about Steward Qian?"
"Furious and scared!" the servant squeaked. "Smashed a teacup on the spot—shouting about 'who the hell released miasma in the outer perimeters.' But he's relieved, too—says his nephew only inhaled a *trace*. If he'd wandered deeper into the valley, he'd be a puddle of rot by now. He's sealed off the news—told everyone the young master 'botched his cultivation.'"
"And Steward Wang?"
The servant brightened like a dog wagging its tail.
"Well, Steward Qian summoned him at dawn. Started by yelling—'Why didn't you report the miasma earlier?' And then—exactly like you taught him—Steward Wang threw himself to the floor crying about 'being afraid to wrongly report something before confirming it.' After staring at him forever… Steward Qian sighed, said, 'At least you meant well,' and rewarded him with fifty spirit stones. He also let Steward Wang temporarily take over Qian Fugui's duties."
The servant peeked up.
Bathing in morning gold, the boy in the washed-out servant's robe merely hummed—a soft, dismissive sound. As if he were listening to some trivial gossip.
And yet the servant felt a chill crawl down his spine.
He had seen Steward Wang's sleepless terror these last few days.
He had seen Qian Fugui coughing blood as he was dragged into the hall.
And the quiet boy standing in front of him seemed to be the center of all those ripples.
"Tell Steward Wang," Jiang Muchen said at last, eyes drifting toward the smoke vents of the Earthfire Court, "three things."
The servant straightened like a taut string.
"First—starting today, go kneel at the Discipline Hall every morning. Half an hour. Call it 'quietly reflecting' and 'praying for Young Master Qian's recovery.' Do nothing else. Just kneel."
The servant blinked.
That… sounded like walking himself straight into trouble.
"Second—within three days, copy all merchant guild records involving the Qingming Sword Sect's purchases from the last six months. Focus on sword embryos, tempering liquids, and Geng-metal ore."
"Third," Jiang Muchen turned, gaze sliding back to him, voice airy but sharp,
"let Steward Wang 'accidentally' mention to Steward Qian that Deputy Officer Lin Tianying from the Discipline Hall has been investigating the guild. Rumors say… he suspects demonic cultivators embedded inside, planning to sabotage the Qingming Herb Valley opening."
The servant went pale.
That was not stirring trouble—that was throwing a torch into a powder house.
"That's all," Jiang Muchen said. "Go."
The servant fled.
Lu Hanshan climbed out of the spring, steam rolling off his body. Water traced along his scarred back before he dried himself and walked over.
"Junior Brother Jiang… you're pushing Wang Duobao straight into a fire pit."
"Only fire can temper steel," Jiang Muchen replied.
He took out a small pouch. "Three Fire-Sun Pills. A reward from Elder Huoyun yesterday. Take one at midnight—the Earthfire's heat will merge with the pill's power and cleanse your marrow."
Lu Hanshan's eyes widened.
These pills were priceless—rare products from the Lava-Heart Secret Realm.
"Junior Brother, this is too—"
"Your old injuries healed, but the 'Diamond-Body Tempering' needs pure fire essence," Jiang Muchen said simply. "These will help. The stronger your fists… the louder we can speak on this mountain."
Lu Hanshan swallowed and bowed deeply, accepting without further refusal.
---
When Jiang Muchen returned to the servants' quarters, something felt… off.
Normally this hour meant an empty yard—everyone either working or fighting for scraps in the dining hall.
But today, a crowd of twenty had formed a ring around the clearing, and soft sobs echoed from the center.
He approached.
In the middle knelt a scrawny boy—mud-stained, a fresh handprint swelling across his cheek. He clutched a battered book labeled *Basic Herb Identification* like it was his last breath.
"Zhou Xiaohuan," a rat-faced Sun Ergou snarled, kicking him, "don't be ungrateful! Steward Li took a liking to your book—it's your good fortune! Hand it over and kowtow three times, and we're done!"
The boy shook his head through tears, refusing to let go.
Jiang Muchen recognized him—an orphan, taken in by a roadside temple before being sent here to tend the herb garden. That worn book was said to be the dying old priest's last gift to him.
Jiang stepped closer.
"Sun Ergou," he said lazily, "quite the temper for so early in the morning."
The crowd parted.
Sun Ergou stiffened when he saw who it was—but forced himself to puff his chest.
"None of your business, Jiang Muchen! The brat slacked off in the herb paths. Steward Li says the book's confiscated. I'm doing my job!"
Jiang ignored him.
His gaze swept across the crowd—and landed on a round-bellied Steward Li hovering in the back, pretending this had nothing to do with him while repeatedly eyeing the book.
Jiang activated his perception.
Greed.
Steward Li didn't care about the book—he wanted the annotations inside. Old, obscure herb notes… maybe hints of a forgotten secret realm.
Zhou Xiaohuan, meanwhile, felt like a cornered animal—fear and stubbornness tangled tight.
For him, the book was memory, lifeline, and armor.
Jiang crouched.
"May I see it?"
The boy's lip trembled, but he slowly handed it over.
Jiang flipped through.
Yellowed pages, childish handwriting—but the red-ink annotations were sharp, knowledgeable, especially the parts about illusion-attributed plants. Even mentioned three variants of the "Dreamblossom" in the Illusory Flower Sea.
Very useful.
He closed the book and looked at Steward Li.
"Steward Li, is this book *really* guild property?"
Steward Li cleared his throat.
"Of course! All manuals issued to servants belong to the sect!"
"Oh?" Jiang nodded politely.
"Then—what date was this one issued? Which steward signed for it? The serial number?"
Steward Li froze.
Servant manuals never had records.
Sun Ergou jumped in, voice rising.
"Don't twist words! Steward Li says it's sect property—so it is! You're just a wood carrier—this isn't your place!"
Jiang finally smiled.
He turned toward the other servants, raising his voice.
"Brothers, we're all from the same servant quarters. Today the steward says Zhou Xiaohuan's book is sect property. Fine. Then tomorrow—maybe your chopping knife, or your abacus, or Sun Ergou's secret *springtime picture book*—will also be 'sect property' and taken away whenever someone feels like it."
A ripple erupted across the crowd.
Hands unconsciously clutched belts and sleeves.
Yes—today it's a book. Tomorrow it's their only belongings.
Steward Li's face darkened.
"Jiang Muchen! Stop stirring trouble!"
"Stirring trouble?" Jiang's smile widened.
"No, Steward Li—I'm helping you."
Steward Li blinked.
"…Helping me?"
"If this book *is* sect property, you'll have to turn it in for registration. And the warehouse steward will check records—discovering it was never issued. Then you'll be charged with misappropriating a disciple's private belongings."
Sweat beaded on Steward Li's forehead.
"But if the book was the boy's all along," Jiang continued softly, "and you were only *borrowing it* to better guide the herb garden… that's diligence. Not a crime."
He slipped a small pouch into the steward's palm.
"Five low-grade spirit stones. I saved for two months to buy a bottle of Qi Nourishing Powder. Consider this Zhou Xiaohuan's thanks for your 'guidance.'"
Steward Li felt the cool stones through the cloth.
Not much—but the gesture, the excuse, the dignity…
He exhaled.
"Ahem… This steward was merely curious. Since you insist, the boy may keep the book. If I need to reference it, I'll borrow it later."
He tucked the pouch away and left.
Sun Ergou scrambled after him, babbling.
He received a single, resounding kick for his trouble.
The crowd dispersed.
Zhou Xiaohuan remained kneeling, dazed.
Jiang handed the book back, then pressed a tiny porcelain vial into his hands—three low-grade Qi Nurturing Pills.
"Take one a day. Strengthen your body."
He ruffled the boy's hair.
"If Steward Li bothers you again, tell him Elder Huoyun already requested this book. I'll be making a copy for the Earthfire Court."
Zhou Xiaohuan's eyes flooded again, but Jiang tapped his forehead lightly.
"No crying. Tears are cheap here. If you don't want to be bullied, learn to make yourself useful."
He paused, voice softer.
"Your notes on the Illusory Flower Sea were interesting. When you have time, come find me behind the Earthfire Court. We'll talk."
The boy bowed clumsily and ran.
Jiang watched his small figure disappear.
To outsiders, what he'd done looked like groveling to Steward Li—giving spirit stones, handing him a ladder, flattering him.
But in truth, he had just bought:
A future herb expert.
The whispered loyalty of twenty servants.
A favor from a greedy steward who could be made useful later.
That was the art of bending without breaking.
That—was *true* leverage.
*Clap. Clap. Clap.*
A slow applause echoed behind him.
Jiang turned.
A young man in a brocade robe leaned against the gate, folding his fan with a smirk. Jade hung from his belt—engraved with **Heavenly Sword Sect**—but his clothes were those of a visiting disciple.
"Brilliant," the young man said, strolling over. "First inflame the crowd with 'principle,' then bribe the steward with 'profit,' then shield the weak with 'virtue.' A triple play. Junior Brother Jiang… your knack for manipulating hearts is exquisite."
Jiang bowed.
"You flatter me. May I know your name, Senior Brother?"
"Heavenly Sword Sect, Shen Xinghe," the man said lightly. "Temporarily residing here."
Jiang's mind flashed—
Heavenly Sword Sect, a major righteous sect with business ties and tensions with Red Dust Pavilion.
Second volume foreshadowing began exactly here.
"Does Senior Brother seek me for something?"
"I heard," Shen Xinghe said bluntly, "that you possess intel on the Qingming Herb Valley. My sect has disciples entering next month. We want a reliable map. Price is negotiable."
Jiang smiled faintly.
"The map belongs to Steward Wang—not me. But…"
He leaned in.
"If your sect could *happen* to clear the Azure-Scale Python nest near the southeastern illusory groves… I'm confident Steward Wang can offer the map at cost—and throw in three live route updates for free."
Shen Xinghe's eyes sharpened.
"Azure-Scale Pythons are second-tier beasts. A whole nest."
"Which is why we need the Heavenly Sword Sect," Jiang replied. "You keep the gallbladders. We take the Illusory Blossoms. Everyone wins."
Shen Xinghe stared at him for a long moment—
Then burst into laughter.
"Interesting! You're more fun than half the inner disciples I know."
He flicked a sword-shaped jade token at Jiang.
"Three days. Drunken Immortal Pavilion. Heaven Room. Bring Steward Wang."
And left.
Jiang felt the sword intent buzzing faintly from the token.
The Heavenly Sword line had arrived much earlier than expected.
The jade flute in his robes warmed suddenly.
He turned.
A pair of eyes stared at him from a cracked window—
cold, silent, and hiding a thread of murderous intent.
Zhao Xiaoliu.
Jiang slipped the jade token away and walked back to the shared quarters.
Another piece placed on the board.
Only this time… more players were reaching for the stones.
*True favors are given so that the beneficiary thinks it's luck, the bystanders think it's virtue, and only you know—it's a seed planted exactly where it will grow.*
---