**Day Fourteen — Late Afternoon**
The fourteenth day began normally enough. Their final scouting mission—one last observation of the manor to confirm nothing had changed, no unexpected security increases, no indications that Wei Shao suspected anything unusual.
They were careful, as they had been for nearly two weeks. Rotating positions. Changing clothes. Never staying too long in one place. Professional and thorough.
But even professionals make mistakes.
And sometimes, bad luck is more dangerous than incompetence.
Hu had been observing from a tea house across from the manor, sitting by a window with a pot of tea and a book he wasn't actually reading. The position provided excellent sight lines while appearing completely innocuous—just another customer enjoying afternoon refreshment.
The problem emerged when Hu, maintaining his cover as a merchant fond of drink, had ordered wine instead of tea.
And then ordered more wine.
And more.
Until the "cover" became reality, and the professional assassin became an actual drunk sitting too long in one position, drawing attention through persistence rather than behavior.
A town guard patrol noticed. Two men in uniform, neither cultivators but both observant and conscientious, doing their jobs with the thoroughness that kept cities safe.
They entered the tea house and approached Hu's table with polite but firm authority.
"Excuse me, sir," one guard said, his tone professional. "You've been sitting here for several hours. The proprietor is concerned. Is everything alright?"
Hu looked up with unfocused eyes, wine-flushed face, and the belligerent expression of someone who'd crossed from pleasantly drunk into problematically intoxicated.
"'M fine," he slurred, waving a dismissive hand. "Jus' enjoying the view. Nice view from here. Very... very nice."
"The proprietor says you've been staring at the Lu manor for most of the afternoon," the second guard said, his hand resting casually on his sword hilt. "That's... unusual behavior. Makes people nervous, especially with all the important guests arriving tomorrow for the banquet."
"Lu manor?" Hu squinted in that direction as if noticing it for the first time. "That big house? Didn't realize. Just looking at... at the architecture. Very fine architecture. Must've cost..."
He trailed off, swaying slightly in his seat.
The two guards exchanged glances. This didn't feel like a real threat—just a drunk being inappropriate—but they'd learned to take anything unusual seriously, especially this close to a major event.
"Sir, we're going to need to see your identification and ask you some questions," the first guard said, his tone firm. "Just routine. Nothing to worry about if you're here for legitimate reasons."
From his position across the street, Zhung watched this unfold with cold assessment.
*Hu's been compromised. The guards are suspicious. If they start asking detailed questions, if they search him and find anything that contradicts his cover story, if they decide to detain him for further investigation...*
*The entire mission collapses. They'll investigate everyone associated with him. They'll increase security at the manor. Wei Shao will be alerted that something unusual is happening.*
*Two weeks of careful preparation wasted because Hu couldn't maintain his discipline.*
Zhung moved without conscious decision, his body already crossing the street before his mind fully processed the plan forming in his thoughts.
He entered the tea house with rapid steps, his expression shifting from his usual cold emptiness to something approximating concerned worry—an emotion he didn't feel but could simulate well enough for short performances.
"Uncle!" he called out, moving quickly to Hu's table. "There you are! I've been searching everywhere!"
The guards turned to face him, automatically assessing this new element. Young man, maybe sixteen or seventeen, dressed simply, carrying himself with the slight awkwardness of youth rather than any threatening capability.
Not a danger. Probably.
Zhung reached Hu's table and bowed apologetically to the guards, his posture submissive and embarrassed.
"I'm so sorry for any trouble he's caused," Zhung said quickly, his voice carrying genuine-sounding distress. "My uncle has... he has a condition. A mental illness. Sometimes he gets confused, wanders away from home, sits in places and stares at things for hours without understanding why."
He turned to Hu, placing a hand on the older man's shoulder with what appeared to be gentle concern.
"Uncle, we need to go home now. Aunt is worried. You've been gone too long."
Hu, drunk enough to be confused but still possessing enough survival instinct to recognize a rescue attempt, played along with impressive improvisation.
"Home?" he mumbled, looking at Zhung with bleary recognition. "When'd you get here? I was just... just sitting. Resting. Tired."
"I know, Uncle. I know. Come on, let's get you home."
The guards' suspicion hadn't completely evaporated, but it had shifted focus. Mental illness was common enough, and families struggling with afflicted relatives was a familiar situation. This looked less like surveillance and more like a sad domestic problem.
"He has papers?" the first guard asked, still doing his job but with less urgency.
"Of course," Zhung said, reaching into Hu's robe and producing identification documents—legitimate papers bearing Hu's real name and occupation as a merchant, nothing suspicious or forged. "We're visiting from the southern province. My uncle wanted to see Xia Lu Town before... before his condition worsens."
The implication hung heavy—a dying man's final journey before illness claimed him completely.
The guard examined the papers, found everything in order, and handed them back with something approaching sympathy.
"You should keep closer watch on him," he said, his tone gentler now. "It's not safe for someone in his condition to wander alone, especially in unfamiliar cities."
"I know. I'm sorry. I'll be more careful." Zhung bowed again, deeper this time, then helped Hu to his feet with supporting hands under his arm.
Hu swayed convincingly, leaning heavily on Zhung as they made their way toward the door.
"The bill," the proprietor called out, approaching with her accounting.
Zhung paid quickly—overpaid, actually, leaving extra coins that suggested both apology for the trouble and the desperate generosity of someone dealing with difficult family circumstances.
They made it outside, Zhung still supporting Hu's weight, moving away from the tea house with shuffling steps that suggested exhaustion and embarrassment rather than escape.
The guards watched them go, then returned to their patrol, the incident filed away as unfortunate but resolved.
---
They didn't speak until they'd put several streets between themselves and the tea house, until they'd turned enough corners to be certain no one was following.
Then Zhung released Hu's arm and stepped back, his expression returning to its usual cold emptiness.
"You almost destroyed everything," he said flatly. "Two weeks of preparation nearly wasted because you couldn't control yourself."
Hu's face, still flushed from wine, showed genuine shame beneath the lingering drunkenness.
"I... I know. I fucked up. Got too comfortable in the role, forgot where the performance ended and reality began. That was..." He shook his head, struggling for words. "That was inexcusable."
"Yes," Zhung agreed simply. "It was."
They made their way back to the Jade Moon Inn separately, staggering their arrival to avoid appearing connected. Zhung arrived first, climbing the stairs to the fourth floor where Bai and the driver were already waiting.
Fifteen minutes later, Hu arrived, still somewhat unsteady but sobering rapidly through a combination of fear and self-recrimination.
He entered Bai's room to find the white-haired assassin standing rigid with fury, his golden eyes blazing with an intensity that made the air feel colder.
"You," Bai said, his voice quiet but carrying more menace than any shout, "are a liability. A goddamn liability that nearly got us all killed or captured or compromised so thoroughly that the mission would be impossible."
"I know," Hu began, but he got no further.
Bai moved with cultivator speed, his hand striking Hu across the face with enough force to snap the older man's head to the side and leave a vivid red mark on his bearded cheek.
The *crack* of impact echoed in the small room.
"Don't. Speak." Bai's voice was absolutely frigid. "You don't get to explain. You don't get to apologize. You get to shut your mouth and listen."
Hu remained silent, one hand touching his burning cheek, his expression showing he knew he deserved worse.
"We have spent TWO WEEKS conducting careful surveillance," Bai continued, his words precise and cutting. "Two weeks of professional, disciplined observation. Two weeks of building intelligence and planning contingencies. And you nearly destroyed all of it because you couldn't tell the difference between acting drunk and actually being drunk."
He took a breath, visibly controlling his anger.
"If Zhung hadn't intervened—if he hadn't created that cover story about mental illness—the guards would have detained you. They would have searched you. They would have found nothing immediately incriminating, but they would have increased security anyway because strange behavior near the Lu manor the day before a major banquet is exactly the kind of thing Wei Shao trains them to report."
Bai stepped closer, his golden eyes boring into Hu's face from inches away.
"Tomorrow is the banquet. Tomorrow we execute a plan that has no margin for error. And I am making this absolutely clear right now—if you compromise this mission again, if your lack of discipline creates problems during the actual assassination, I will kill you myself. Not as punishment. Not as revenge. But because you'll have become more dangerous to our survival than the actual enemies we're fighting."
The threat wasn't empty. Everyone in the room knew Bai meant every word.
Hu nodded slowly, all traces of his usual jovial personality completely absent. "Understood. It won't happen again."
"It better not."
Bai turned away, dismissing him, and Hu left the room without another word.
Throughout this entire confrontation, Zhung and the driver had simply watched from their positions against the wall. Not interfering. Not defending. Not criticizing. Just observing with the detached interest of professionals witnessing a subordinate being disciplined for legitimate failures.
*Leadership through fear and respect,* Zhung noted. *Bai doesn't tolerate mistakes, especially ones caused by lack of discipline. That's probably kept him alive longer than most in this profession.*
*And he's right. Hu almost destroyed everything today. In another hour, in another circumstance, that mistake would have been fatal for all of us.*
After Hu left, Bai turned to Zhung specifically.
"Quick thinking today," he said, his anger cooling to something more analytical. "The mental illness story was convincing and difficult to disprove. You saved the mission."
Zhung accepted this with a slight nod, no emotion showing on his face despite the acknowledgment.
"Get some rest," Bai continued, addressing all of them. "Tomorrow night is the banquet. Tomorrow we either succeed completely or die trying. Make sure you're ready."
They dispersed to their rooms as evening settled over Xia Lu Town.
---
Zhung lay on his bed, staring at the wooden ceiling as he had every night since arriving in this town, his body motionless, his breathing slow and even, his mind working through final preparations and contingencies.
*Tomorrow is the banquet,* he thought with absolute clarity. *Tomorrow we walk into the Lu manor carrying forged invitations under the Li family name. Tomorrow we attempt an assassination in front of dozens of witnesses in a crowded building full of guards.*
*Tomorrow, everything either works perfectly or collapses catastrophically.*
His thoughts turned to the brilliance of Bai's deception—the double-layered misdirection that would protect Li Huang even as it implicated him.
*The forged invitations will identify us as Li Huang's representatives,* he analyzed. *If we're caught. If someone realizes what happened and investigates. If they find witnesses who remember seeing merchants from the Thousand River Merchants Association near Lu Shin when he died.*
*The obvious conclusion is that Li Huang sent assassins. The obvious culprit is the man who had the most to gain from Lu Shin's death.*
*But that obviousness is precisely what makes it unbelievable. Why would Li Huang be stupid enough to send assassins carrying his own identification? Why would he risk such a blatant connection? It's too obvious to be real, which means it can't possibly be real.*
*Anyone investigating will conclude that someone else—some other enemy, some other rival—forged the invitations specifically to frame Li Huang. They'll waste time and resources chasing that theory, looking for whoever was clever enough to create this false trail.*
*And Li Huang, the actual guilty party, will remain above suspicion. He'll express shock and outrage that someone tried to implicate him. He'll cooperate fully with investigations, knowing they'll find nothing connecting him to us because we'll be long gone and the trail will be cold.*
*No one will suspect that four assassins came to the banquet specifically intending to frame the Li family, because that would require Li Huang to be suicidally stupid or impossibly arrogant. And he's neither. He's careful. Calculating. Ruthless but not reckless.*
*So the frame becomes proof of innocence. The obvious guilt becomes evidence of a conspiracy against him. And Lu Shin dies while his killer remains untouchable.*
Zhung's cold admiration for this strategy carried no moral judgment, just recognition of professional excellence.
*It's cruel. Brilliant. Ruthless. Perfectly designed to achieve the objective while protecting the client.*
*That's mastery of assassination work. That's the kind of thinking that keeps people like Li Huang in power for decades.*
*And tomorrow, I become complicit in that masterpiece of deception.*
His Aperture pulsed in his chest—full now, or near enough that the difference didn't matter. Two weeks of regeneration had restored his blood reserves completely. He was combat-ready. Technique-capable. As prepared as he could be for what tomorrow would bring.
*Stone Bullet is ready. Body tempering is available if needed. My physical conditioning has continued improving. I'm as strong as I've ever been, as dangerous as my current rank allows.*
*If Bai's technique works, I'll be backup that never needs to act. If it fails, if he can't reach Lu Shin, if something goes wrong...*
*Then I complete the mission. However necessary. Whatever it takes.*
*Kill Lu Shin in front of witnesses if that's what survival demands. Fight through guards if escape requires it. Do whatever violence is necessary to accomplish the objective and get out alive.*
*No hesitation. No mercy. No room for doubt or moral conflict.*
*Just execution of the mission, cold and professional and thorough.*
Outside his window, Xia Lu Town continued its evening routines, unaware that tomorrow would bring death to one of its most prominent citizens. Lanterns burned. People laughed and talked. Life proceeded with comfortable ignorance.
And in the Lu manor up the hillside, Lu Shin was probably preparing for his banquet, reviewing guest lists and menu selections, looking forward to celebrating another business success with friends and rivals alike.
*Twenty-two years old,* Zhung thought without emotion. *A genius. A prodigy. Someone who could have changed this region's entire economic structure if given another decade.*
*And tomorrow he dies because he was too successful, too threatening, too dangerous to the established order.*
*That's this world. That's the reality I exist in.*
*Cruel. Indifferent. Unforgiving.*
His breathing remained slow and even, his body completely relaxed despite the thoughts occupying his mind.
*The Broken Path continues forward,* he reflected for what felt like the thousandth time since choosing this life. *One step at a time. One mission at a time. One death at a time.*
*Tomorrow, Lu Shin.*
*Tomorrow, the banquet.*
*Tomorrow, everything changes or everything ends.*
*No middle ground.*
His eyes remained open, staring at the ceiling he could barely see in the darkness, while outside the last lanterns were extinguished and Xia Lu Town settled into the quiet hours before dawn.
The final night before assassination.
The last peace before violence.
The calm before the storm that would either prove Bai's brilliance or end with all of them dead in the Lu manor, surrounded by guards and witnesses and the consequences of failure.
*Tomorrow,* Zhung thought one final time, and then he forced his mind to stillness, emptying it of everything except the present moment, the quiet darkness, the sensation of breathing and existing and being alive before tomorrow's uncertainty.
*Tomorrow.*
---
**End of Chapter 23**