Mèng Lián kept her forehead pressed to the floor, the crimson silk spreading across the stone without moving a single muscle.
Yù Qíng rested her hands on the healer's tense shoulders.
"Don't be startled, little sisters." Yù Qíng's tone flowed gently. "Out there she is The Number One Beauty Under Heaven and the Celestial Crane of the Firmament Auction House. In here, she is only our most obedient dog."
Huáng Bìyù swallowed hard as she tore her gaze from the prostrate figure to Zhì Yuǎn's face.
Qīng Yǔ blinked, looking from the First Wife to Zhì Yuǎn before nodding slowly and sitting back down. At the other end of the table, Lín Jié let go of her skirt and rested her hands in her lap.
"Rise, Mèng Lián," Zhì Yuǎn said. The red-haired woman straightened up, keeping her head bowed and her arms crossed in front of her body.
"The takeover of the conglomerate," he continued. "Where are the intelligence records?"
"Under the control of the high merchant council, my Lord. I dominate the Firmament Auction and three major guilds of the capital, but the roots of our intelligence network remain in the hands of the councilors."
Zhì Yuǎn turned the empty cup in his hand, weighing the matter.
"How many dogs do you need to unleash?"
"All thirty," Mèng Lián answered at once. "I want to eliminate a fifth of the council's key figures in a single, simultaneous strike, distributing the remaining deaths among the middle and lower ranks over the course of this week." She lifted her chin slightly. "The power vacuum will be immediate. Fear will do the rest. The councilors who survive will crawl to my guilds begging for protection, and the keys to the records will fall into my lap."
The terrace fell silent.
Lín Jié rose from her chair, ignoring the fairies and Mèng Lián to fix her green eyes directly on Zhì Yuǎn.
"With my Lord's permission…"
Zhì Yuǎn stopped turning the cup and gave a slight nod.
"Speak."
"It is possible to turn this vacuum into a continental smoke screen." The former secretary rested her hands on the edge of the table. "The Court and the Sanctuary will investigate the massacre the moment they find their trade partners among the dead. Especially when they realize that not a single subordinate of the Vault of Ashes shed a drop of blood." Lín Jié turned her face toward the redhead. "The Vault already manufactures pills and maintains its own guild tied to the conglomerate. If the assassins leave the right trails…"
Mò Yán narrowed her scarlet eyes.
"The Court of the Absolute Blade and the Sanctuary of the Prismatic Lotus will have the perfect pretext."
"A righteous crusade," Lín Jié continued, her tone gaining a cold, rhythmic cadence. "They will accuse the Vault of being a malevolent force disrupting the balance of the world, using this mercantile slight as an excuse to ally and devour them completely."
The former secretary returned her gaze to Zhì Yuǎn.
"The entire continent will burn in their war. And while the Three Hegemonies are busy tearing each other's throats out on the front lines, no one will notice who quietly assumed leadership of the Merchant Conglomerate in the shadows."
Mèng Lián listened in silence, the former Sect Master evaluating the mortal from head to toe until a sharp smile spread across her face.
"A devious addition, Miss Lín," the redhead said with a short nod. "The beasts will do the work of distracting the empire for us." She turned her eyes back to Zhì Yuǎn. "The intelligence will be ours before the end of the week, my Lord. Without resistance."
Yù Qíng smiled from the corner of her mouth while Zhì Yuǎn leaned back in his chair, the emptiness in his dark eyes yielding to a glint of pure satisfaction.
"Mèng Lián."
The slave prostrated herself beside him and rubbed the top of her head against his arm, closing her eyes to savor the sensation shamelessly while she waited for the order.
"Unleash the dogs," Zhì Yuǎn ordered, staring at the smile on his First Wife's face. "Begin the purge."
------
The crimson echo of the jade faded into the darkness of the stone hall.
Gāo Jīn straightened his torso, aligning the heavy black silk band around his head with slow movements before tying the knot at the nape of his neck. The fabric tightened over perfectly intact eyes, hiding a pale face free of the old war scars, now displaying the flawless, solid physique of a warrior rebuilt from nothing.
On the other side of the nephrite table, Xú Lán clicked her tongue.
Long silver hair fell over the shoulders of a woman who no longer bore a single trace of frost-cracked skin. She was now a sculpture of pale, lethal beauty.
"It is pathetic," Xú Lán's voice came out cold.
Gāo Jīn did not turn his neck. He only lowered his hands.
"Our Lord erased the marks of that traitor of yours," she continued, uncrossing her arms. "And you still tie that dirty cloth over your face like the same crippled hero from before."
"I saw everything I needed to see during my long life." Gāo Jīn's voice did not change; it remained monotonous and empty. "He healed an old, broken man with no prospects. Binding my eyes is my way of ensuring I look at nothing except His will."
Xú Lán wrinkled her nose, her pale hand descending unconsciously to press against her own lower abdomen.
Her fingers touched the edge of the table and, in the blink of an eye, a layer of crystalline, absolute frost covered the surface of the furniture. Her ice had never been so perfect, so terrifyingly pure since the Lord's energy had rewritten her.
But that same perfect ice now felt hollow, the touch of her own skin bringing only frustration. The ghost of that Primordial Qi pulsed in the depths of her core, a purity that left her flesh feverish, addicted, and hungry to be crushed by that authority once more. The woman exhaled low, gripping the fabric of her dress until her knuckles whitened.
Gāo Jīn's black band tilted in the direction of the sound of her breathing.
"You pant too loudly when you receive His orders," the man murmured. "Careful. The Ladies have very sharp hearing. I do not think they would enjoy listening to your cravings."
The ice cracked under Xú Lán's fingers, fracturing the spiritual stone of the table.
"'Madame Feng' does not hide her own hunger, so why should I?" The woman hissed, her voice almost hoarse as she tried to smother the tremors wracking her body.
"The difference is that she has the First Lady's permission." Gāo Jīn turned and walked toward the dark corridor. "Swallow that hunger, Xú Lán. We are the knives, not the lapdogs."
He stopped in the doorway, his tall silhouette cutting through the shadows.
"Madame has given the order. The target is the high merchant council."
Xú Lán closed her eyes. Slowly she forced control back into her own breathing, letting the cold of her cultivation numb the fever in her belly. When she opened her silver eyes, they were cold and cutting.
"What is the signature?" she asked.
"Vault of Ashes," Gāo Jīn answered. "When they find the bodies tomorrow, the entire continent must be absolutely certain who did it."
Gāo Jīn vanished into the darkness. Silence returned to the hall, broken only by the soft crack of frost consuming the rest of the nephrite.
------
Hundreds of thousands of kilometers away, the sun scorched the dunes of the Central Route. The wind blew hot sand against the iron fittings of three overturned merchant carriages.
Yáng Yè was crouched over the corpse of the caravan leader.
The warrior of the Boiling Glass Desert showed no wear from the climate. His bronze skin gleamed; his dense musculature, polished by Primordial Qi, rejected sweat, thirst, and fatigue. His thick fingers slid over the bloodied spatial rings of the dead man, his lips moving silently as he tallied the tithe he would send to the Altar.
A crimson pulse warmed the skin of his chest.
Yáng Yè interrupted the count at once, letting the rings fall from his hands. He released the merchant's body and threw himself to his knees on the searing sand, burying his face in the rough ground in absolute reverence, rigid as a statue beneath the midday sun.
Mèng Lián's order flooded his mind.
Yáng Yè raised his head. His eyes focused on the five surviving mercenaries still breathing, bound and kneeling near the destroyed carriages. He had intended to behead them cleanly so as not to stain the silks of the cargo.
The warrior rose in silence, leaving the heavy spear driven into the sand.
With a practical motion, he materialized a bundle of yellow paper talismans from his storage ring—contraband stolen from the Vault of Ashes, merchandise he frequently adulterated to slip through underworld routes without drawing the attention of the great clans.
But now the trail was necessary.
Yáng Yè's thick fingernail slid across the paper. He carefully scraped away the thin layer of cinnabar masking the seal's core. The camouflage flaked off, exposing the original signature—the raw, unmistakable trace of the Hegemony's refining fire, gleaming under the sun.
He walked to the survivors.
A slight flick of the wrist, and the talismans activated in the air.
The explosion of heat distorted the very light, spreading the nauseating smell of charred flesh on the wind while Yáng Yè dusted his hands to clear the soot. He returned to his work with the cold efficiency of a debt collector.