Gong Shuren raised her hand, and a blue mist floated out from the clock tower’s walls. They pressed together until they solidified and formed what looked like a little pocket watch. “Huxian, this is for you. You’ve touched on the essence of time, but it isn’t enough. Absorb this, and it will take you to the limits of what this realm has to offer.”
Then she looked out at the empty air in the clock tower’s halls, and for a moment, Cha Ming thought he saw something. A slight glimmer, tiny strings connecting it to countless lives on this plane. “Everything is balanced at last,” she said. “You can keep your academy medallions, but I’m sure you know my stance by now. You eliminated scholars from the South for their actions, which was well within reason. But it must stop from now on. They must be permitted back into Haijing. That’s nonnegotiable.”
Cha Ming sighed. He picked the medallion off his robes, smiled, and stored it in his Clear Sky World. “There’s no need. I’m sure you’ll find someone adequate to be headmaster. I won’t be coming back.”
“All right,” Gong Shuren said. “Be careful out there. You have a path to follow, and a good chance of succeeding. But things are changing. You might find yourself invincible right now, but I assure you that you are not. I like you. Don’t get yourself killed.”
Another wave, another shift. The next thing they knew, Cha Ming and Huxian were back outside, floating above the red ocean waves. The battlefield had been cleared, but the blood remained. For a moment, they wondered if that spot of blood would ever fade.
“Huxian?” Cha Ming asked the fox, who jumped on his shoulder. “Let’s go visit Wang Jun. I owe him a favor, and I think it’s high time I repay it.”
Zither music sounded throughout the Red Dust Pavilion as it always did. Hong Xin sat on her balcony, looking over the mistresses and newly recruited trainees fawning over their clients. She trained them in kindling arts, of course. Though some would learn dousing arts as a minor, only those who could handle it learned both.
Everyone below was chatting while waiting for the main attraction: Ji Bingxue would be playing again, and her performances always gathered a sizeable crowd. Many of the watchers were just normal cultivators—men and women alike. Even core-formation cultivators scrambled to obtain a seat in the crowded venue. Never too crowded, of course. The breathing space was necessary for customer satisfaction, and the shortage was necessary for their bottom line.
As she looked at them socializing, she felt a presence behind her. “It’s been too long, Master Mu,” Hong Xin said as the man walked up beside her. She’d been expecting him.
“We hadn’t heard from you in a while, and your courtesans stopped showing up for their regular appointments,” Mu Feilong said. “I thought there might be a problem, so I thought I’d pop by.”
“There is a problem, and I instructed them to stay here until you came by to resolve it,” Hong Xin said.
A serving girl, who’d been waiting for this moment, brought them refreshments with lightning speed. There were two ruby-red wineglasses. She grabbed one and motioned to the other.
“And what might that problem be?” Mu Feilong said, swirling his own glass. He took a sip and nodded appreciatively.
“We need to renegotiate our rates,” Hong Xin said. “We have no problem working with you, but I’m afraid we haven’t been adequately compensated of late. The envelope on the tray is what I had in mind.”
Mu Feilong frowned and set his glass back on the tray. He opened the envelope and withdrew a red piece of paper from it. He laughed when he saw the numbers. “Your appetite is impressive. The Red Dust Pavilion never dared ask so much when it was at its peak, much less now.”
Hong Xin shrugged. “Consider it backpay for all the cheap work you’ve been getting over the years.”
Mu Feilong looked at her incredulously. He tapped his fingers on his temple. “I really don’t know what’s going through that head of yours. You’ve seen our trump card, so I’m sure you’re aware of your situation.”
“That’s true,” Hong Xin said. “You could destroy us in a blink of an eye. But might I pass on some information of my own? For free, of course.”
“Please,” Mu Feilong said.
“Last night, there was a break-in at the Spirit Temple,” Hong Xin said. “It’s a very carefully kept secret, mostly due to the dreadful trade involved. I heard that seven very special urns went missing. They’re very important to the Spirit Temple, and I’m sure they’ll be scrambling to shore up their supply. It would be a pity if anyone were caught assisting them.”
Mu Feilong frowned. “The Spirit Temple is impossible to break into.”
“Not nearly as impossible as you think,” Hong Xin said sweetly. “I happened to obtain the identities of seven houses scrambling to supply the Spirit Temple with their illicit goods. They’re all in the process of gathering them, of course, but the goods in transit are kept very secret. It would be a shame if these storage locations became known to the Church of Justice. The consequences would be devastating.”
“You’re mad,” Mu Feilong said. “No, I don’t believe you. No one will.”
“You don’t have to,” Hong Xin said. “But I’d carefully consider our offer for services if I were you. Women have many wonderful qualities, forbearance being one of them. But I’m afraid we’re also vengeful creatures. Either you give us back what we’re owed, or we’ll burn both our houses to the ground. You decide.”
Hong Xin didn’t wait for him to reply. She walked back to her room under cover of darkness. As the sweaty Mu Feilong pondered her revelation, the lights dimmed, and the curtain opened. Ji Bingxue’s zither filled the room with music, rousing everyone’s spirits and inspiring everyone’s
