Three days.
I spent them in a frenzy of preparation that would have made my old corporate self proud. Xiao Hong proved invaluable. Her eidetic memory, previously wasted on memorizing servant schedules and petty household grievances, became the foundation of my intelligence network.
She remembered everything. The price of spirit rice in the eastern market. Which elder had gambling debts. The exact shade of purple that indicated a Foundation Establishment Pill was past its potency date.
"Young Master," she said on the morning of the second day, "Elder Brother Liu visited the alchemy pavilion last night. He purchased three doses of Dream Mist powder. The receipt was signed under a false name, but the clerk's handwriting matches his previous orders."
I looked up from the cultivation manual I was pretending to study. The Azure Cloud Technique was garbage. Standard issue, designed to keep outer disciples docile and weak. But it served my current purpose: appearing harmless.
"Dream Mist," I repeated. "Induces temporary paralysis. Leaves the victim suggestible. Popular among certain circles for... compromising situations."
Xiao Hong's expression did not change, but her knuckles whitened around the inventory ledger. In the original story, she had been the witness to my supposed crime. The girl I had allegedly drugged and assaulted.
"He plans to frame you," she said. It was not a question.
"He plans to create a stepping stone," I corrected. "The narrative requires a villain. Elder Brother Liu is simply the instrument. The true author is... elsewhere."
She did not understand the meta reference. That was fine. She understood enough.
"What do we do?"
I smiled. "We sell."
---
The Azure Cloud Sect operated on a rigid hierarchy. Outer disciples like myself were barely above servants. Inner disciples held privilege. Core disciples held power. Above them, the elders controlled resources. And above all, the Sect Master maintained the illusion of benevolent authority.
But power flows through channels that official hierarchies ignore. Information. Favors. Debts.
My father, before his trading company collapsed, had maintained extensive relationships with the merchant class of Azure Cloud City. Relationships I had ignored in my previous life, too obsessed with cultivation advancement to notice the true currency of the world.
I spent the second day visiting those contacts. Not as Chen Wei, the failed disciple. But as the heir to Chen Mercantile, bearing contracts and promises of renewed trade.
Old Man Wei, the spice importer who controlled half the spirit herb routes. Madame Luo, whose textile workshops employed three hundred outer disciples' families. Fat Hong, who ran the largest black market auction house in the lower city.
They remembered my father. They remembered his debts, yes, but also his integrity. And they saw opportunity in my sudden interest.
"Why now?" Old Man Wei asked, his eyes milky with cataracts but sharp with merchant cunning. "Your sect career is... undistinguished. Your cultivation, mediocre. Why return to trade?"
"Because I have found something worth trading," I said. "Information that will reshape the power structure of this city within seventy days. And I need partners who can move quickly, quietly, and profitably."
"Seventy days," Madame Luo repeated. "Specific."
"Specific," I agreed. "The timeline is non negotiable. The opportunity expires after that."
They looked at each other. The silent communication of people who had built empires on risk assessment.
"What do you need?" Fat Hong asked finally.
"Eyes in the Eastern Wastes. Specifically, the Tomb of the Fallen Prince. I need to know who enters, who leaves, and what they carry. And I need a buyer. Someone with resources, ambition, and a grudge against the current power structure."
"That describes half the young masters in this city," Old Man Wei observed.
"But only one has the specific combination of desperation and intelligence I require," I said. "Wang Chen. The third son of the Wang Trading Consortium. Recently disinherited after his elder brother's breakthrough to Core Formation."
Fat Hong's eyebrows rose. "Wang Chen is unstable. Violent. His own family fears him."
"Wang Chen is efficient," I corrected. "His violence is calibrated. And more importantly, he understands value. He was trained in the family business before his brother's cultivation talent eclipsed him. He knows that power comes in many forms."
"And what are you selling him?" Madame Luo asked.
I leaned forward, dropping my voice to barely a whisper.
"Destiny."
---
I met Wang Chen in a teahouse that technically did not exist.
Fat Hong's connections had arranged it. The building appeared abandoned from the outside, a victim of the last spirit storm. Inside, it was appointed with the understated luxury of people who did not need to display wealth to possess it.
Wang Chen was younger than I expected. Nineteen, perhaps. Handsome in a sharp, predatory way. His eyes held the particular bitterness of someone who had been promised the world and watched it given to another.
"Chen Wei," he said, not rising from his cushion. "The stepping stone. I read your file. Outer disciple, mediocre talent, scheduled for expulsion within the month. Your family is bankrupt. Your future is nonexistent. And yet you summon me here with promises of destiny."
He gestured to the empty space between us. "Speak, before I decide this meeting is insult enough to warrant punishment."
I did not flinch. I had faced worse in corporate boardrooms. At least Wang Chen's hostility was honest.
"You were trained to lead the Wang Consortium," I said. "From age six, you studied trade routes, supply chains, negotiation tactics. Your brother was trained to punch things. And yet when he punched hard enough, he became heir. You became... this."
Wang Chen's smile did not reach his eyes. "Careful."
"I am not careful. I am correct." I produced a scroll from my sleeve. Not a cultivation technique. A map. "Seventy two days from now, a young man named Lin Feng will arrive in Azure Cloud City. Outer disciple, unknown background, supposedly from a minor village. He will carry a jade pendant that marks him as the heir to a destroyed noble house."
Wang Chen's expression shifted. Microscopically, but I caught it. Recognition.
"The Fallen Prince," he said slowly. "The legend. The tomb in the Eastern Wastes that kills everyone who enters."
"Not everyone," I said. "Lin Feng will enter in sixty eight days. He will emerge three days later, carrying the Prince's inheritance. A cultivation technique that advances him three full realms in six months. Combat skills that defeat Core Formation experts while he is still in Foundation Establishment. And most importantly, the Prince's command token, which grants access to a hidden vault containing enough spirit stones to fund a small war."
I let that settle.
"You know this how?" Wang Chen asked.
"I know the script," I said. "I know how this story ends. Lin Feng becomes the youngest Core Formation expert in sect history. He destroys the Wang Consortium for a perceived slight that has not happened yet. He marries your sister. He kills you in Chapter 147, using your death to motivate his final breakthrough to Golden Core."
Wang Chen laughed. It was not a happy sound. "You are insane. Or a fraud. Either way..."
"Check the tomb in four days," I interrupted. "Send your most trusted agent. Not to enter. To watch. Observe the northern entrance, the one hidden behind the waterfall. Lin Feng will appear there at dawn, covered in blood that is not his own, carrying a bundle wrapped in golden silk."
I leaned back, letting confidence settle over me like armor.
"I am offering you first right of refusal. The inheritance can be his. Or it can be yours. The choice depends on how much you are willing to pay."
Wang Chen studied me for a long moment. The teahouse seemed to hold its breath.
"What do you want?" he asked finally.
"Three things. First, one hundred thousand spirit stones. Delivered in three installments. The first payment today, as a show of good faith."
"Absurd."
"Second," I continued, ignoring him, "your sister's hand in marriage. Not immediately. In two years, when my cultivation has advanced sufficiently to make the alliance politically viable."
Wang Chen's eyes widened. "You dare..."
"Third," I pressed on, "twenty percent of the Wang Consortium's profits for the next decade, channeled through Chen Mercantile. In exchange, I provide continued intelligence on Lin Feng's movements, weaknesses, and opportunities. I become your shadow partner. The merchant who sells you victory."
Silence stretched between us.
"You are asking me to bet my family's future on the word of a madman," Wang Chen said quietly.
"I am asking you to buy insurance against your own death," I replied. "The hundred thousand spirit stones are a pittance compared to what Lin Feng will cost you if he lives. Your sister's marriage is a formality. She will never marry him in the original timeline. He kills you too quickly. And the twenty percent..." I smiled. "Consider it a consulting fee for saving your life."
Wang Chen stood abruptly. For a moment, I thought he would strike me. Violence radiated from him like heat.
Then he laughed. Genuine, surprised, almost delighted.
"You have stones, Chen Wei. I will give you that." He reached into his robes and produced a jade token. "Fifty thousand spirit stones. The first installment. You will have the rest when your prediction proves true."
He tossed the token onto the table between us.
"If you are wrong, I will kill you slowly. If you are right..." He grinned, showing teeth. "Then we will discuss my sister."
He swept from the room, his guards falling into step behind him.
I exhaled, realizing I had been holding my breath.
[TRANSACTION COMPLETED]
[Spirit Stones Acquired: 50,000]
[Reputation +500]
[Silver Rank Progress: 60%]
[New Contact: Wang Chen (Potential Long Term Client)]
The System notifications cascaded through my vision, but I focused on the physical reality. The jade token in my hand. Weighty. Real.
My first sale.
Not a cultivation technique. Not a pill or artifact.
I had sold certainty in a world of narrative chaos. I had sold the future itself.
And Wang Chen had bought it because he understood, better than most, that power was not about who cultivated hardest. It was about who controlled the information that determined who won.
"Young Master?" Xiao Hong emerged from the shadows where she had been hiding, recording everything. "It worked?"
"It worked," I confirmed. "And now we prepare for phase two."
"What is phase two?"
I pocketed the jade token, feeling its weight settle against my chest like a second heartbeat.
"Lin Feng thinks his destiny is written in stone. Divine mandate. Protagonist privilege." I smiled, feeling the cold calculation that had served me in boardrooms now find its true purpose. "But every story has plot holes. Every hero has dependencies. And Wang Chen is about to become the wrench in the machinery of fate."
I turned to face her, seeing the excitement she tried to hide.
"In sixty eight days, Lin Feng will enter that tomb expecting glory. But Wang Chen will be waiting. Not to stop him. To... negotiate. To offer a partnership that Lin Feng's pride will force him to refuse. To plant the seed of doubt that will grow into the tree of his destruction."
"And if Lin Feng accepts the partnership?"
"Then I have sold the same destiny twice, to two different buyers, and collected from both." I shrugged. "Either way, the Merchant profits. That is the only script that matters."
Xiao Hong laughed. It was a small sound, surprised out of her, but it held real delight.
"You are terrifying," she said. It sounded almost like admiration.
"I am practical," I corrected. "Terrifying is just the side effect."
I gestured toward the door, where dawn was breaking over Azure Cloud City. A city that thought it understood power. That worshipped cultivation and ignored commerce. That would soon learn that the greatest cultivation was not of spiritual energy, but of relationships, information, and strategic advantage.
"Come," I said. "We have inventory to acquire. Wang Chen's payment needs to be converted into assets before Elder Brother Liu makes his move tomorrow. And I have a sudden need for Dream Mist powder of my own."
Xiao Hong's eyes widened. "You are going to poison Elder Brother Liu?"
"No," I said. "I am going to sell him the antidote to a poison he does not know he has already taken. The best transactions create their own demand."
We stepped into the morning light, two figures who should not exist, walking a path that had never been written.
Behind us, the teahouse vanished into the shadows.
Ahead of us, the world waited.
And everything was for sale.
---