Chapter 4: The Predator's Banquet
The Azure Phoenix Needle felt warm against Kaelen's palm, its silver surface etched with microscopic runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. He sat in the center of the warehouse, the silence of the industrial district wrapping around him. With the needle returned, the air in the room felt different—more structured, as if the artifact itself was anchoring the energy of the space.
"You've been staring at that for an hour," Elara said, leaning against the doorway. She had changed into a dark silk blouse, her hair now down, cascading over her shoulders. She looked less like a corporate shark and more like a woman burdened by the weight of a dying empire. "Is it really that important?"
"In the right hands, this needle can restart a heart that has been cold for a day," Kaelen replied, not looking up. "In the wrong hands, it can turn a drop of water into a poison that kills an entire city. My master didn't lose it; it was stolen during a massacre. The fact that the Thornes had it means they were more than just business partners with the people who killed my kin."
Elara's eyes softened, a rare flash of empathy crossing her face. "Oakhaven isn't a city of coincidences, Kaelen. If the Thornes had it, they were holding it for someone bigger. Likely the Malakor Syndicate."
Kaelen finally looked at her. "Then the Syndicate will be coming for me soon."
"Worse," Elara said, walking toward him. "They're coming for both of us. My grandfather just informed me that the Lee, He, and Song families have formed an alliance. They've seen what you did to Arthur Thorne, and they see your connection to the Valerius Group as a threat to their monopoly on the city's medicine. They've invited us to a banquet tonight at the Grand Azure Hotel. It's a trap, obviously."
Kaelen stood up, tucking the needle into a hidden sleeve of his cloak. "A trap is just an opportunity for the prey to see the hunter's face. I'm hungry anyway."
The Grand Azure Hotel was a spire of glass and arrogance, piercing the smoggy sky of the city. Inside, the ballroom was filled with the scents of expensive champagne and the stench of hidden agendas.
As Kaelen and Elara entered, the music didn't stop, but the atmosphere curdled. Kaelen was still wearing his simple charcoal tunic and boots, standing out like a wolf in a kennel of poodles. Elara held his arm, her grip firm, projecting a confidence she didn't entirely feel.
"Look at that," a voice sneered.
Three young men stood near the bar, draped in suits that cost more than a commoner's house. In the center was Brimstone Mingyu, the heir to the Mingyu pharmaceutical empire and a high-ranking member of the local martial elite. Beside him stood Song Chengyou and He Jiahao, the sons of the other two allied families.
"So this is the mountain brat who thinks he can play doctor in our city," Mingyu said, his voice carrying across the floor. He stepped forward, swirling a glass of amber liquid. "I heard you did a little trick for Arthur Thorne. A wooden splinter? Very theatrical."
Kaelen ignored him, his eyes scanning the room for genuine threats. He saw them in the corners—men with steady hands and breathing patterns that suggested high-level cultivation.
"I'm talking to you, bumpkin," Mingyu hissed, his face reddening. He reached out to grab Kaelen's shoulder.
Kaelen didn't turn. He simply shifted his weight an inch to the left.
Mingyu's hand missed, his momentum carrying him forward. Before he could recover, Kaelen's elbow flicked back, a movement so small it was almost invisible. It caught Mingyu in the solar plexus.
The heir let out a sound like a punctured tire. He doubled over, his glass shattering on the marble floor.
"The air in here is a bit thin for someone with your weak lungs," Kaelen said calmly, finally looking at the three of them. "You should breathe through your nose. It helps with the temper."
"You... you bastard!" He Jiahao shouted, signaling the guards in the corners. "Do you have any idea whose territory you're standing on?"
"The Valerius family's territory," a cold, authoritative voice boomed.
Silas Valerius walked into the ballroom, his silver-topped cane thumping against the floor with the weight of a gavel. The guards froze. Despite his age, Silas carried a reputation that kept the city's underworld in check.
"Mingyu, tell your father that if his son can't hold his liquor or his tongue, he should keep him in the nursery," Silas said, standing beside Kaelen.
Mingyu gasped for air, his eyes full of hatred. "This isn't over, old man. Your family is a sinking ship. Once we secure the Heavenly Marrow Fruit from the northern marshes, the Valerius Group will be nothing but a footnote in history."
Kaelen's ears pricked up at the mention of the fruit. It was the same legendary ingredient his master had warned him about—the core of Malakor's plan for immortality.
"The fruit doesn't belong to children," Kaelen said, his voice cutting through Mingyu's bravado. "And neither does this city."
He turned to Elara, ignoring the murderous glares of the three heirs. "Let's go. I've seen enough. The rot in this room is too deep to cure with needles."
As they walked out, Kaelen felt a sharp, cold gaze hitting the back of his neck. He glanced toward the balcony and saw a man in purple silks watching him. The man didn't move, but the air around him seemed to warp with a poisonous, dark energy.
Malakor.
The senior brother had finally shown his face. Kaelen didn't smile, but his pulse quickened. The hunt had officially begun.