“Fortunately, we happen to be carving up a lot of wall,” Cha Ming said wryly. “If we attacked the wall in a pattern that etches those runes, I’d wager that we’d greatly accelerate the destruction. That way, I’d only need to slightly modify the ball bearings. Unfortunately, I don’t know the runic patterns required for such structural weakening.”
It was a lie, of course—he did know it, but he wouldn’t be revealing that anytime soon.
“I think I might know just the thing,” Pan Su said. “Are you free right now?”
“Tomorrow morning, six o’clock sharp,” Cha Ming said. “I have something to take care of tonight.”
Shao Qiang rolled his eyes. “Here we are, working our hearts out, and you’re still taking time off for leisure.”
“Relaxing is the key to success,” Cha Ming replied. “You should try it sometime. I think you’d like it.”
“See you tomorrow, then,” Pan Su said, sighing in disappointment. The eager look in her eyes and the slight twitching in her fingers indicated that she’d be playing with some ideas regardless of his absence.
“I’ll be back shortly,” Cha Ming said, nodding to the remaining two as he left the room.
The streets were busy but orderly when he left the Blackthorn Conglomerate. Despite the sun just having set, many people were just returning home from work. Others had already been home but were now out with friends and family enjoying the evening. Despite being filled to the brim with cultivators, the city still obeyed the social conventions of mortals—work during the day and rest at night. Only powerful cultivators like Cha Ming or businesses that catered to cultivators remained open.
Cha Ming felt restless tonight. He wasn’t sure why, but it likely had a lot to do with the closed shop he saw before him. The hardworking Mo Ling, it seemed, had finally taken a day off. Which was understandable, given the size of her belly. The smiths were still busy at their forges, as their work was piecemeal, and their wages were based on production rather than attendance. The storefront, however, was pitch black. Both Mo Ling and her sole attendant had left at the same time. For personal reasons, the sign on the front read.
No time to be distracted by her now, Cha Ming thought, though he wondered if there was more to her absence than mere time off. The play he’d been orchestrating, the sabotage of the Wang family, also added to the burden. The destruction and chaos he’d leave behind was sure to affect her. If not for wanting to avoid further incrimination of the girl, he would have whisked her away and put her in hiding somewhere in the North, where Zhou Li couldn’t reach her. It was an impossible task if he wanted to maintain his cover.
Cha Ming pushed these worries out of his mind and made his way to a short but squat building nearby. The building didn’t stand out, and not many people went inside. Cha Ming entered it and was waved through by a burly man. The place was a tavern. He’d only been here once before as instructed by Senior Zhong, the mysterious man who managed the Greenwind Pavilion on the Ling Nan Plane.
He passed by many drinking guests unnoticed, walking into a back room that was shielded from any and all scrying. He walked up to a circle inscribed on the floor with gray ink, a simple-looking thing with unbelievable effects. He stepped into it… and reappeared several thousand miles away in an entirely different city. The formation had teleported him, and it was something Cha Ming had no idea how to create.
“So, you’ve finally come to collect your profits,” a man said, appearing in the room beside him. It was Senior Zhong, in the flesh. Only VIP customers like Cha Ming would have the opportunity to secretly travel to this remote pavilion to do business.
“It wasn’t convenient before,” Cha Ming said. “And I wanted to make sure you had sufficient time to auction off the materials. The rates you offered me for the crystalized elemental essence and the other ores were atrocious.”
“We all need to turn a profit,” Senior Zhong mumbled.
“Indeed,” Cha Ming said. “Which is why I waited.”
The man grunted and flicked a ring over to Cha Ming. It contained a small fortune, completely converted into spirit stones, liquified elemental essence, and elemental evanescence. He looked through the list sitting atop the large pile and read it line by line. Then, seeing everything was in order, he put the ring away. “Did you look into the matter I inquired about?”
“I did,” Senior Zhong said. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“Immunity purchase?” Cha Ming asked.
“I’m afraid I can’t say,” Senior Zhong replied.
His silence was all the confirmation Cha Ming needed. He’d wanted to confirm Director Wang Yong, Tian Zhi, and Wang Bo had indeed come from the Wang family and betrayed the North. With Tian Zhi’s admission and Senior Zhong’s omission, however, he didn’t need confirmation. There was no other reason those three men would need to hide their history so thoroughly.
“The others?” Cha Ming asked.
“Clean Southern people,” Senior Zhong said. “Though I don’t see why you care so much. Borders are borders, and people hop between them many times throughout their lives. Good people sometimes do bad things, and bad people often do good things.”
“It’s the principle of it,” Cha Ming said. It was also his justification, one he clung to with a white-knuckled grip. After all, by turning against them, he, too, would be a traitor. That thought of betraying their trust churned his stomach, despite all the lives he could save in the process. The future Southern lives that would be lost also weighed on his conscience, despite not yet having died.
All for a peaceful North, thwarting Zhou Li’s evil plan, whatever it was, and for repaying a favor. That last one was just an afterthought at this point. It was a convenient excuse to go ahead with this distasteful mission.
“I must ask,” Senior
