River-Fog Town didn't just wear its name—it drowned in it.
Mist choked the canals and slicked the cobblestones into treacherous mirrors. Every reflection lied. Every shadow moved when you weren't looking.
Wei Shen kept his hood up and his breathing measured. Panic wasn't just embarrassing here. It was blood in the water.
Three days. That's all it had taken to unravel his life.
Three days since the Imperial Spirit Law Bureau came with their lacquered seals and polite, terrible efficiency. They hadn't smashed doors. They'd presented paperwork.
Spirit-tax fraud. Unregistered spirit rice. Assets sealed pending investigation.
Then the chains on his father's wrists. The old man hadn't resisted. Only looked at Wei Shen with that steady, weary gaze and pressed a small wrapped object into his palm.
"Don't bargain with your pride. Bargain with your life. And don't trust ink that isn't yours."
Wei Shen had swallowed those words like broken glass. He felt them cutting still.
Ahead, the River-Fog Auction Hall bled light into the mist. Over its gates, characters glistened with fresh lacquer:
FAIR PRICE / FAIR DEAL.
Wei Shen climbed the steps. The doorman wore fur-lined robes despite the damp, his cultivation aura a low, constant pressure against Wei Shen's senses—a subtle flex of power meant to intimidate.
"Invitation or consignment?" The man's voice was bored.
"Consigning."
"Deposit. Ten spirit coins."
Wei Shen's jaw tightened. "I have three."
The doorman smiled. It didn't touch his eyes. "Then you can—"
The pressure intensified suddenly, a spiritual weight crashing down on Wei Shen's shoulders. He grunted, knees buckling slightly. Blood trickled warm from his nose. A crude but effective technique—Stone Shoulder Press, a bully's cultivation art.
"Problem?" the doorman asked pleasantly.
Wei Shen straightened through sheer will, wiping the blood with his sleeve. He was calculating the angle to break the man's knee when a calm voice cut through the mist.
"Ten coins for consignment? Has Manager Huo started robbing people on the steps now?"
Wei Shen turned.
A young woman stood under the awning, rain beading on the brim of a plain bamboo hat. Her gray travel robe was unadorned, but the way she stood made space around her. She wasn't tall. She didn't need to be.
The doorman's smile tightened. "Miss. Rules."
"Your rules or the hall's charter?" She stepped forward, and the spiritual pressure shattered like glass. The doorman stumbled back a step, eyes widening.
Wei Shen watched her, mind racing. Skilled. Dangerous. And intervening. Why?
Her gaze flicked to him—sharp, assessing. "Consigning what?"
"A jade slip," he said, voice rougher than he intended. "Family artifact."
The doorman recovered, sneer returning. "We don't take sentimental—"
"Fetch Huo," the woman said, and something in her tone brooked no argument.
Footsteps approached. Manager Huo Sanchang appeared, robes rich with embroidery, smelling of sandalwood and ambition. His eyes went to the woman first—recognition, then calculation—before settling on Wei Shen.
"Ah," Huo said with a shallow bow. "A misunderstanding. Please, inside."
It wasn't an apology. It was containment.
The Auction Hall swallowed sound. Carpets deadened footsteps. Spirit lamps burned with unnatural steadiness. Protective formations hummed beneath the floorboards.
Huo led them to a side chamber. Tea already poured. A contract already waiting.
"Your jade slip," Huo said, taking a seat.
Wei Shen unwrapped the oiled cloth. The slip was pale, unremarkable, with a hairline crack at one corner. His father had called it worthless for years.
Huo lifted it, tapped it. A clear note rang.
"Interesting," he murmured. Then he slid the paper forward. "Standard consignment."
Wei Shen read. Standard until the middle clause:
In event of dispute, Consignor agrees to provide service of equal value, physical or spiritual, as determined by House arbitration.
Servitude. Politely worded.
"I'm not signing this," Wei Shen said.
Huo's smile stayed fixed. "Young sir, it's for our protection."
"Protection from what? Me leaving with my own property?"
Huo sighed, produced a second sheet. "An alternative, then. A temporary advance against future cultivation income."
Wei Shen scanned it. Worse. This claimed not just coin, but the qi from his breathing. A chain for his very breath.
Across the table, the young woman sipped her tea, eyes lowered. But Wei Shen felt her attention like a drawn blade.
He looked at Huo. "Give me my slip back."
Huo's fingers closed around it. "I'm afraid we need an agreement first. You see, I recognize this jade. Heaven-Inscribed work, isn't it? Even dormant, it's valuable. And dangerous."
The air chilled.
Wei Shen's right hand slipped into his sleeve. Not for a weapon. For a sewing needle.
He pricked his thumb.
Before Huo could react, Wei Shen pressed his bleeding thumb to the jade's cracked corner.
For a heartbeat, nothing.
Then the world screamed.
Heat tore up his arm, white-hot and vicious. The jade flared with searing blue light, and in Wei Shen's mind, something unfolded—cold, vast, and hungry.
HEAVEN-INSCRIBED LEDGER: ACTIVATED
OWNER: WEI SHEN (BLOOD SEAL CONFIRMED)
SOUL INK: 1.0 (CRITICAL RESERVE)
WARNING: INSUFFICIENT INK FOR AUTOMATIC DEFENSES
AVAILABLE FUNCTIONS:
Record (0.1 ink) | Audit: Clause Sense (0.2 ink)
Contract Draft: BASIC - LOCKED (0.5 ink required)
The cost was immediate. A tearing sensation in his chest, as if something vital had been ripped out. Soul Ink. Not qi. Something deeper.
Wei Shen gasped, vision swimming. Blood dripped from his nose again, hotter this time.
Huo stared, hunger naked in his eyes. "Remarkable. A true activation."
The young woman set down her cup. Click.
The sound was deliberate.
Huo's gaze snapped to her. "Miss Xu. This doesn't concern you."
"Xu?" Wei Shen managed through the pain.
She ignored him, addressing Huo. "You know the rules, Huo. Heaven-Inscribed artifacts are Bureau-forbidden. If you report it, they'll seize it. And your hall. And you."
Huo's smile turned brittle. "I could just take it."
As he spoke, the shadows in the corner moved. A stone mastiff the size of a wolf unfolded itself from a carved statue, spirit-lights gleaming in its eyes. Its growl vibrated through the floorboards.
Wei Shen's mind raced. The Ledger pulsed in his perception. He could feel its functions, cold and precise. Audit: Clause Sense cost 0.2 ink. He had 1.0. But the warning... critical reserve.
The stone mastiff took a step forward, jaws cracking open to reveal crystal teeth.
"Sign the advance, boy," Huo said softly. "Or my guardian breaks your arm. Then you sign anyway."
Wei Shen looked at the contract. Invoked the Ledger.
AUDIT: CLAUSE SENSE. COST: 0.2 INK.
The ink value dropped to 0.8. The tearing in his chest intensified.
The contract's text rearranged in his vision, intent glowing crimson. The clause about cultivation income burned brightest:
"Income" includes all spiritual energy gathered through meditation, breathing, or cultivation techniques, to be siphoned weekly until debt repaid.
He looked at Huo. "This doesn't just claim my income. It claims my foundation. You'd leave me a mortal husk."
Huo's eyes widened slightly. The young woman—Xu—let out a low, impressed breath.
"You can read intent," Huo murmured. "Fascinating. That makes you more valuable."
The mastiff lunged.
Wei Shen didn't think. He threw himself sideways. Crystal teeth snapped where his arm had been, tearing through his sleeve. He hit the floor, rolled, came up with a teacup in hand.
Pathetic.
But his father's voice echoed in his head: "Fight with what's there, not what you wish was there."
The mastiff turned, stone joints grinding. Huo watched, smiling.
Xu hadn't moved. But her fingers were curled in a subtle seal.
Wei Shen focused on the mastiff. Not on its body—on the faint glow between its joints. Formation lines. Spirit-beast guardians were powered, not alive.
He threw the teacup. Not at the mastiff—at the spirit-lamp above it.
The cup shattered the lamp. Hot oil sprayed.
The mastiff flinched—instinctive reaction to sudden light and heat. For one second, the glow in its joints flickered.
Wei Shen moved.
He wasn't fast by cultivator standards. But he'd trained in martial forms since he could walk. He slid under the mastiff's swipe, palm striking the joint of its front leg where the glow pulsed.
Not with qi. With precise, anatomical force.
The glow sputtered. The leg locked.
The mastiff stumbled.
Huo's smile vanished. "Enough!"
He raised a hand, spiritual energy gathering—a true cultivator's technique, not a bully's press.
Xu moved then.
She didn't stand. She simply flicked her wrist.
Huo's gathering energy shattered, dispersing like broken glass. He gasped, clutching his hand as if burned.
"Enough," Xu echoed, her voice cold. "You've tested, Huo. He's not easy prey. How much do you want to bleed today?"
Huo's face darkened with fury. And fear. He'd underestimated her.
Wei Shen stood, breathing hard. The mastiff struggled to rise, one leg inert.
"Give me my slip," Wei Shen said, blood on his teeth. "And a clean consignment. Or I walk out and tell the street you tried to steal a Heaven-Inscribed artifact. How many rivals would pay for that information?"
Huo's eyes darted between them. Calculating. The cost of violence versus the cost of exposure.
Finally, he barked a laugh. "Fine! Clever boy. Ruthless, too." He clapped twice. The mastiff stilled, returning to statue form.
An old appraiser entered, thin and bent. He took the jade slip, hands trembling slightly. Named a price: "Thirty spirit coins."
Huo counted them out, each coin heavy with faint formation marks. "Ten percent house fee on sale. Clean contract."
Wei Shen signed, fingers steady despite the tremor in his soul. The Ledger recorded the transaction silently, ink reserve unchanged.
As they stood to leave, Huo spoke again, smooth once more. "The Azure Cloud Copper Gate Token goes on sale tonight. Reserve: two hundred coins."
Wei Shen didn't flinch. He had thirty.
Xu spoke first. "He's not bidding. But I am."
She met Wei Shen's eyes. "Stay. Watch. Learn who bids. It tells you who your enemies are."
He nodded. Mutual use. Honest about it.
They stepped into the main hall. The crowd murmured like a beast dreaming of gold. As they found seats, Wei Shen felt the Ledger pulse—a new message etching itself:
OPEN CONTRACT SEED: "ENTER AZURE CLOUD GATE"
CONDITION: Obtain legitimate entry within 10 days.
REWARD: Minor function unlock.
PENALTY FOR FAILURE: Soul Ink permanently reduced by 0.5.
WARNING: TRACE ACCUMULATION DETECTED. BUREAU NOTIFICATION PROBABILITY: LOW (AND RISING).
Ten days. And every use of the Ledger rang a silent bell for hunters.
He glanced at Xu Qinglan. She watched the crowd, profile sharp in the lamplight. Carrying her own secrets. Her own deadlines.
"Why help me?" he asked quietly.
She didn't look at him. "Because my master had a Ledger once. The Bureau took him. And I made a promise."
Before he could answer, the auctioneer announced the first lot. Wei Shen settled in to watch.
But at the edge of the hall, a man in plain robes watched him. The man's fingers bore ink-stains no water could clean. Bureau scribe's stains.
And he was smiling.