"Dinner," Bai's voice called from the hallway. "Main room. Now."
Zhung stood smoothly and moved to the door, opening it to find Bai already walking away toward the stairs. The white-haired assassin didn't look back, simply expecting obedience.
*Still treating us like subordinates rather than equals,* Zhung noted without emotion. *He's the team leader, certainly, but leadership styles vary. Bai prefers absolute authority—clear hierarchy, unquestioned commands, no room for debate or discussion.*
*That will cause problems eventually. Hu already resents it. The driver tolerates it because he apparently doesn't care about status. And I...*
*I'll obey when it serves my purposes and ignore him when it doesn't. Simple as that.*
He followed Bai down the stairs to the main room, where Hu and the driver were already seated at a corner table—deliberately chosen for its position that allowed them to see the entire room while keeping their backs to the wall. Standard assassin paranoia, but well-founded paranoia that kept people alive.
Zhung took the remaining seat, completing their square formation. The table was large enough that they weren't crowded, but small enough that conversation could be kept quiet and private.
The inn's evening crowd had grown since they'd arrived—perhaps twenty guests now, scattered across various tables, engaged in their own conversations and meals. Merchants discussing trade routes. Local officials enjoying wine and gossip. A few travelers like themselves who'd arrived seeking rest and sustenance. The atmosphere was relaxed, almost pleasant, with warm lantern light and the savory smell of cooking food creating a sense of comfortable normalcy.
A serving girl approached their table with practiced efficiency—young, perhaps sixteen, with the quick movements and attentive expression of someone well-trained in hospitality.
"Honored guests, our evening specialty is roasted duck with plum sauce, accompanied by rice, seasonal vegetables, and soup made from bone broth," she recited with a slight bow. "We also have fresh fish steamed with ginger, pork ribs braised in wine, and our cook's signature dumplings. What would please you?"
"Bring everything you mentioned," Bai said flatly, placing several silver coins on the table—more than enough to cover an extravagant meal for four. "And rice wine. The good variety, not the cheap swill you serve to common travelers."
The girl's eyes widened at the generous payment, and her smile became genuinely warm. "Of course, honored sir! I'll have everything brought out immediately!"
She hurried away toward the kitchen, and the four assassins settled into silence while they waited for their food.
The silence stretched for several minutes, each of them lost in their own thoughts, until the serving girl returned with their first course—the promised roasted duck, glistening with glaze, arranged artfully on a large platter surrounded by steamed buns and garnishes.
They ate without conversation at first, each focused on their food with the dedication of people who'd spent three days eating simple travel rations and were now genuinely enjoying proper cooking.
The duck was excellent—crispy skin, tender meat, the plum sauce providing perfect sweetness to balance the rich flavor. The rice was perfectly cooked, each grain separate and fluffy. The vegetables were fresh and lightly seasoned. Even the soup was noteworthy, rich with depth of flavor that suggested hours of careful preparation.
Hu poured wine for everyone except Zhung, who had declined with a simple shake of his head during their first night of travel and hadn't changed his position since.
*Still doesn't drink,* Hu had noted with something between respect and confusion. *Kid's got discipline, I'll give him that. Or maybe he just doesn't trust us enough to let his guard down. Can't say I blame him.*
When the initial hunger had been satisfied and they were working through their second course, Bai set down his chopsticks with deliberate precision—a gesture that immediately drew everyone's attention because it signaled he was about to discuss business.
He reached into his robe and produced a small scroll, holding it casually between two fingers. Immediately, Zhung felt that subtle shift in the air—the formation of a barrier, a sphere of silence that extended perhaps six feet in all directions around their table.
*The silence technique again,* Zhung observed. *Anyone outside the barrier can see us talking, can see our lips moving and our gestures, but they can't hear what we're actually saying. To them, we're just another group of merchants having a quiet conversation over dinner.*
*Effective. And judging by how casually Bai uses these scrolls, Li Huang provided him with multiple copies. Single-use items, probably expensive, but worth the cost for operational security.*
Once the barrier was confirmed active, Bai spoke in his usual flat tone, completely unconcerned that they were discussing murder in a public dining room.
"Our objective is the Viscount of the Lu family—Lu Shin, a young man even younger than myself," he began, his golden eyes moving from face to face to ensure everyone was paying attention. "Twenty-two years old. Inherited his father's modest trading business seven years ago when the old man died of illness, and in that time he's transformed it from a local operation into something that genuinely threatens Li Huang's dominance in this region."
He paused to take a sip of wine, his expression thoughtful. "His organization is on the verge of surpassing the Thousand River Merchants Association in both wealth and influence. He's expanded into markets Li Huang considered secure, undercut prices on key goods, established relationships with suppliers that were supposedly loyal to our employer. In another year, maybe two, he'll have completely displaced Li Huang as the primary merchant power in the Western Frontier."
"So Li Huang wants him removed before that happens," Hu said, stating the obvious. "Can't compete honestly, so resort to assassination. Tale as old as commerce itself."
"Exactly." Bai's small smile suggested he found the situation grimly amusing. "Lu Shin's only crime is being too competent at what he does. For that, he'll die, and his organization will collapse or be absorbed, and Li Huang will maintain his monopoly for a few more years until the next threat emerges."
"What do we know about Lu Shin personally?" the driver asked, his muffled voice carrying genuine curiosity. "His capabilities, his cultivation level, his personal habits?"
"Limited information on his cultivation," Bai admitted. "Li Huang's intelligence suggests he's at least Iron Rank Aperture Awakening, possibly Copper or even Steel Rank. He's known to practice every morning in a private courtyard—some kind of sword technique, apparently elegant but we don't know its actual combat effectiveness. He's not primarily a warrior, though. He's a businessman, a strategist, someone who wins through planning and negotiation rather than direct confrontation."
Bai produced a small piece of paper from his robe and unfolded it on the table—a crude but functional map of the upper district, with one building marked prominently.
"The Lu manor is here," he indicated with a finger, pointing to a structure near the peak of the hillside. "Three stories, stone construction, built about fifty years ago by Lu Shin's grandfather when the family first achieved wealth and status. Surrounded by walls that are more decorative than defensive—perhaps eight feet tall, ornamental ironwork, designed to look impressive rather than to actually keep people out."
"Security?" Zhung asked, speaking for the first time since they'd sat down.
"Unknown in complete detail," Bai replied, his golden eyes fixing on Zhung with approval that someone was asking the right questions. "Li Huang's intelligence suggests Lu Shin employs at least ten guards who are cultivators—minimum Aperture Awakening rank, possibly higher. We should assume all of them have combat experience and at least basic Will techniques suitable for close-quarters fighting."
He tapped another point on the map. "The head of security is a man named Wei Shao. Former military, served in the southern campaign against the mountain tribes about ten years ago. Reputation for being thorough, paranoid, and very good at his job. He survived battles that killed better warriors through careful planning and never taking unnecessary risks. Exactly the kind of person who makes assassination work difficult."
"Wonderful," Hu muttered, taking a long drink of wine. "So we're walking into a fortified manor protected by experienced cultivators led by a paranoid veteran, trying to kill a genius who's probably prepared for exactly this kind of attack. And I'm sure the pay is excellent to compensate for these minor inconveniences?"
"The pay is adequate," Bai said flatly. "And irrelevant if we're dead. Which brings me to the actual plan."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping even though the barrier made eavesdropping impossible. "Direct assault is suicide. We don't have the numbers, the firepower, or the element of surprise needed to overcome that many cultivators in a fortified position. Ambushing Lu Shin on the street is nearly impossible—he rarely travels without guards, and Wei Shao varies the routes and timing to prevent patterns. Poisoning would be ideal, but we don't have access to his household, and attempting to bribe servants would risk exposure and probably fail anyway since Wei Shao likely vets everyone carefully."
"So what's the approach?" the driver asked.
Bai's smile widened fractionally—a rare expression that suggested genuine satisfaction with his own cleverness. "In two weeks, Lu Shin is hosting a banquet. A celebration of some business achievement—securing a major contract, or completing a profitable trade route, something like that. He's inviting all the prominent merchants and officials in town. It's a bold move considering he must know he has enemies, but that's precisely what makes it our opportunity."
The silence around the table became heavier as the implications sank in.
"You want to kill him at his own party?" Hu said slowly, his expression somewhere between impressed and horrified. "In front of dozens or hundreds of witnesses, with guards on high alert, probably extra security for the important guests?"
"Exactly," Bai confirmed. "Because everyone will assume Lu Shin is safest when surrounded by people. Because the guards will be focused on managing the crowd, maintaining order, protecting the guests—not on defending against a targeted assassination of their employer. Because if we do it correctly, with proper subtlety and technique, the chaos afterward will make investigation nearly impossible."
He gestured broadly, as if laying out pieces on a game board. "We'll attend as guests—either forge invitations or bribe our way in, whichever proves easier. We'll move through crowds that provide natural cover and concealment. We'll position ourselves near Lu Shin during the celebration when guards are distracted and his own attention is on playing the gracious host. And then..."
Bai held up his right hand, forming a specific gesture—three fingers extended, the others curled. "I've been developing a technique specifically for this kind of situation. It uses Will to compress air directly into someone's heart, stopping it instantly. From the outside, it looks like sudden cardiac failure—natural causes, no visible wounds, nothing to suggest murder. If I can get within arm's reach of Lu Shin, I can kill him in seconds, and no one will realize what happened until long after we're gone."
"That's..." Hu paused, searching for words. "That's either brilliant or suicidal. I genuinely can't decide which."
"Both," the driver and Zhung said simultaneously, their voices overlapping.
The two of them exchanged a glance—as much as that was possible with the driver's mask—and Zhung continued: "High risk, high reward. If everything goes perfectly, Lu Shin dies in a way that can't be traced back to Li Huang or proven as murder. If anything goes wrong—if the technique fails, if guards react faster than expected, if Lu Shin has protections we don't know about—we'll be fighting our way out against impossible odds in an unfamiliar building full of enemies."
"Precisely," Bai agreed. "Which is why we spend the next two weeks preparing thoroughly. We scout the manor—from outside at first, then finding ways to get inside if possible. We learn the layout, the guard rotations, Lu Shin's daily routine. We identify weaknesses and backup plans. We prepare for every contingency we can imagine."
He pointed to each of them in turn. "Hu, you'll attend the banquet posing as a merchant—drunk and harmless, easy to dismiss and ignore, but positioned to create a distraction if needed. Something loud and chaotic that draws attention away from Lu Shin at the critical moment."
Hu nodded, his expression suggesting he was already planning what kind of scene would be most effective.
"Driver, you secure our escape route. Steal a fast cart or bribe someone to have horses ready outside the manor. We'll need to leave immediately after the assassination, before anyone realizes what happened."
The masked man's slight nod indicated understanding.
"Zhung." Bai's golden eyes fixed on him with penetrating intensity. "You're the backup plan. If I can't get close to Lu Shin, if my technique fails, if I'm identified or prevented somehow, you complete the mission. Whatever it takes. However messy it needs to be. Understood?"
Zhung met Bai's gaze without flinching. "Yes."
"Even if it means killing him in front of witnesses? Even if it means fighting through guards and probably dying in the process?"
"Yes."
Bai studied him for a long moment, those golden eyes searching for any hint of doubt or hesitation. Finding none, he nodded slowly. "Good. Because Li Huang was very clear about the terms—Lu Shin dies at that banquet, no matter what. Failure isn't an option. If we don't complete the mission, we don't come back to report it. Those were his exact words."
*Kill or die,* Zhung thought, the familiar weight of that ultimatum settling over him like a shroud he'd worn before. *The choice has always been that simple. Success or death. Victory or extinction. No middle ground, no negotiation, no mercy for failure.*
*This is the path I chose. This is the price of survival and strength in this world.*
The conversation continued for another hour—Bai outlining specific details about guard schedules based on Li Huang's intelligence, discussing how they'd conduct surveillance without drawing attention, planning fallback positions and emergency signals.
It was thorough and professional, the kind of planning that acknowledged everything could go catastrophically wrong while still committing fully to the attempt.
Eventually, the food was finished, the wine was mostly drunk (except by Zhung and the driver, who'd both declined), and there was nothing more to discuss that wouldn't benefit from rest and fresh perspective.
Bai deactivated the silence barrier with a casual gesture, the scroll crumbling to ash as its single use was expended. The ambient noise of the inn rushed back—conversations, laughter, the clink of dishes, all the normal sounds of evening that had been present but inaudible for the past hour.
They separated to their rooms without fanfare, each climbing the stairs in silence, each carrying their own thoughts and concerns about what the next two weeks would bring.
---
Zhung entered his room and closed the door behind him, immediately moving to the window to look out at Xia Lu Town's nighttime aspect.
The streets were quieter now, though not deserted. Lanterns still burned in shop windows and along major thoroughfares. He could hear distant music from what was probably a tavern or entertainment house. Occasional figures moved through the streets—late workers heading home, guards on patrol, others whose business was best conducted in darkness.
He turned from the window and lay down on his bed, staring at the wooden ceiling as he had in Li Huang's compound, as he had during their three nights of travel, as he always did when processing complex information and planning for uncertain futures.
*In two weeks, the assignment begins,* he reflected, his expression stoic and unwavering despite the darkness that prevented anyone from seeing it anyway. *The banquet. The assassination. The moment where everything either succeeds perfectly or collapses catastrophically.*
*There's no denying the genius in this world—Lu Shin is a true prodigy. Twenty-two years old and already threatening an established power like Li Huang. That takes vision, intelligence, ruthlessness, and the kind of talent that appears once in a generation if you're lucky.*
His eyes sharpened with newfound determination, though the darkness concealed the change.
*And we're going to kill him. Snuff out that potential because he had the misfortune to be too successful, too threatening, too dangerous to the established order. Not because he's evil or deserves death, but simply because he's inconvenient to someone with more power.*
*That's this world. That's the reality I exist in.*
*Cruel. Indifferent. Unforgiving to those who rise too high without sufficient strength to defend their position.*
His mind turned to analyzing Bai's plan with cold, methodical precision.
*The plan is both reasonable and foolish—reasonable because it exploits a genuine opportunity that wouldn't normally exist, foolish because it relies on so many variables aligning correctly.*
*We need forged invitations or successful bribery to gain entry. We need the guards to be sufficiently distracted by crowd management. We need Lu Shin to be accessible, isolated for just long enough. We need Bai's technique to work perfectly on the first attempt with no chance for recovery. We need to escape before anyone realizes what happened. We need no unexpected protections or contingencies we haven't accounted for.*
*So many points of potential failure. So many ways this ends with all of us dead or captured.*
*But...*
His thoughts shifted to the potential benefits of success.
*If it works—if we execute perfectly—it's actually brilliant. The public setting makes it look like anything except a planned assassination. Lu Shin's death appears natural, unexpected, tragic but not suspicious. The crowd provides cover for both the killing and the escape. The chaos afterward makes investigation difficult and conclusions uncertain. And Li Huang's involvement becomes impossible to prove without evidence that won't exist.*
*High risk. High reward. The kind of plan that works beautifully or fails catastrophically with no middle ground.*
*And if Bai fails or can't reach Lu Shin, it falls to me. The backup plan. The one who kills him however necessary, regardless of witnesses or consequences.*
His Aperture pulsed faintly in his chest—still mostly empty, still regenerating slowly, still a vulnerability that wouldn't be resolved for several more days.
*Three or four more days before I'm at combat capacity,* he calculated. *Until then, I'm limited to physical abilities and basic body tempering. No Stone Bullet. No Will techniques except what I can manage with minimal blood expenditure.*
*Not ideal. But I've survived worse situations with less preparation.*
His fingers formed the Stone Bullet hand sign in the darkness—index finger extended, others curled, held steady for a three-count before relaxing. The gesture was becoming automatic now, muscle memory building with each repetition.
*Two weeks to scout the Lu manor. Two weeks to learn the layout, count the guards, identify vulnerabilities, track Lu Shin's movements and patterns. Two weeks to maximize our chances of success while minimizing the risk of detection.*
*Two weeks until I have to kill someone I've never met, for reasons that have nothing to do with justice or morality and everything to do with power and money.*
His thoughts turned philosophical, examining the nature of what he was becoming.
*This world is undeniably cruel,* he acknowledged with cold acceptance. *Success invites destruction. Excellence invites elimination. Lu Shin's only crime is being too good at what he does. For that, he'll die, and his family will mourn, and his employees will lose their livelihoods, and the business he built will collapse or be absorbed.*
*All because one man—Li Huang—decided he was a threat that needed removing.*
*That's the nature of power in this world. The strong don't tolerate threats. They eliminate them before they become problems. Ruthless pragmatism elevated to universal principle.*
*And I'm complicit in that system. I'm the tool that makes it work. The weapon wielded by those too careful or too cowardly to do their own killing.*
He felt no guilt about this observation. No shame. No moral conflict. Just cold recognition of reality and his place within it.
*For now, I'm a tool. A weapon. Someone else's instrument of violence. But I'm learning. Growing. Understanding this world's power structures and cultivation systems. Every mission teaches me something valuable. Every technique I master makes me stronger. Every survival makes me harder to kill.*
*Eventually—not today, not this year, but eventually—I'll be strong enough that people like Li Huang can't use me anymore. Strong enough to choose my own path. Strong enough to refuse orders I don't want to follow. Strong enough to say no and make it stick.*
*But that day isn't today. Today, I'm still weak. Still dependent. Still forced to take missions I wouldn't choose if I had real power and real options.*
*So I'll do what's necessary. I'll scout the manor. I'll prepare for the assassination. I'll kill Lu Shin if Bai fails or if circumstances require it. I'll do whatever it takes to survive, to collect my payment, to continue advancing on this path I've chosen.*
*Because survival is the prerequisite for everything else. And strength is the only currency that actually matters in a world this cruel.*
Outside his window, Xia Lu Town continued its evening routines. Lanterns burned. People laughed and talked. Life proceeded with comfortable ignorance of the darkness that had entered their borders and taken up residence in a respectable inn with murder in its heart.
Somewhere up that hillside, in one of those impressive stone manors, Lu Shin was probably finishing his own evening meal, discussing business with advisors, playing with his children if he had any, living his life with no awareness that four assassins were planning his death with professional thoroughness.
*Two weeks,* Zhung thought one final time, his breathing slowing as his body prepared for sleep even while his mind continued processing. *Two weeks until we attempt something that has a great result if done correctly—Lu Shin dead, Li Huang satisfied, our team alive and paid, mission accomplished with no traceable connection.*
*But also two weeks until we risk everything on a plan that's as dangerous as it is clever.*
*The gateway to death or triumph. No middle ground. No half-measures. Success or extinction.*
His eyes closed finally, his body surrendering to exhaustion after three days of travel and the constant mental strain of vigilance and planning.
*The Broken Path continues forward,* he thought as consciousness faded toward sleep. *One step at a time. One mission at a time. One death at a time.*
*Until I'm strong enough to walk it on my own terms, rather than following the direction others choose for me.*
*But not yet. Not yet.*
Sleep claimed him then, dreamless and dark, while outside the Jade Moon Inn, Xia Lu Town settled into the quiet hours of night.
And in the morning, the scouting would begin.
The careful, methodical work of learning a target's patterns and vulnerabilities.
The preparation for violence disguised as normal life.
The countdown to assassination, measured in days that felt simultaneously too long and far too short.
---
**End of Chapter 21**