Jiang tried not to fidget. He tried not to sweat. He tried not to imagine the dozen different ways this could end badly.

He failed on all counts.

Mistress Bai didn't look murderous, but that wasn't much comfort – she hadn't looked particularly murderous a moment ago when she'd killed the Broker either.

The fact that Jiang wasn't dead yet indicated that she couldn't directly sense the pact, but again, that wasn't terribly comforting. She could sense his advancement, which was almost as damning – and once she started asking pointed questions, he doubted he'd be able to keep the secret for long.

His eyes flicked briefly to the window. The second floor wasn't far. If he could distract her with shadows for even a moment – just a flicker, just long enough to buy two steps – then maybe he could throw himself out and hit the street running.

The problem was that every scenario he ran in his head ended with him being a bloody stain on the carpet before he so much as twitched towards freedom.

"You're welcome to try, if you feel you must," Mistress Bai said, her voice laced with a faint, knowing amusement. She hadn't moved, but her expression told him she had seen every flicker of his thought process. "But I wouldn't recommend it."

He made himself lean back in the chair, crossing his arms as if he'd never even considered moving. "Not worth the trouble," he muttered.

"An excellent decision," she chuckled. "You've already shown you have a knack for survival. Best to keep up the trend."

Jiang frowned. Her manner was… disarming, almost conversational, but the weight of her Qi pressed faintly against him, a reminder that he didn't really have a choice about staying here.

She tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle she'd half-solved. "You know," she said idly, "I knew something was strange about you when we first met. But I will freely admit, the last thing I expected was for you to be a Pact-bearer."

Jiang stilled for a moment before sagging in resignation. So. She did know. Getting this close to finding his family, only for it to end here… it was a cruel, bitter joke.

"So," he said, voice flat, "is this the part where you kill me?"

Mistress Bai looked genuinely puzzled by the question. "Kill you?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Why in the world would I do that? What would I possibly gain from it?"

Jiang just stared at her, confused. "Because of the Pact," he said tentatively. "Because it's unorthodox."

A small, sharp laugh escaped her lips. It was the most genuine sound he'd heard her make. "Child, where did you get such a simplistic idea?"

Jiang fell silent. Obviously, all of his information on the Pact, Patrons, and how the sects would react was coming from Old Nan. She'd been very clear about what he should expect, and he'd naturally believed them all – why wouldn't he, when the first semi-reliable source of information was so certain?

Even now, he still believed her, in a way. The pain and hatred she held for the Sects was too real to be a lie. But he was beginning to understand that a truth born from hatred was often a twisted, incomplete thing. He didn't trust Mistress Bai, not for a second, but he trusted Old Nan a little less than he had five minutes ago.

Before he could decide how to answer, or if he should answer at all, Mistress Bai waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, some of the great sects might kill you, certainly," she admitted, her tone casual. "But not out of any sense of righteous purity. They would kill you to deprive their rivals of a potential asset. Because that is what you are, Jiang Tian. An asset."

"You're saying Pact-bearers are valuable enough for a sect to kill me just to make sure no one else can use me?" Jiang asked, brow furrowing.

"Of course," she said. "That was the entire reason a war was fought over your kind."

"I thought that was to wipe out the Patrons and anyone who followed them," Jiang said, his voice carefully neutral.

Mistress Bai gave a small, knowing smile. "That is the story the victors wrote in their history books – and why wouldn't they? It sounds much better than admitting they were simply greedy." She paused for a moment. "Though, of course, the reality was far more complicated than just greed. I'll admit I don't know much of the specifics – I was barely older than you are now when the last embers of that war were stamped out, which was hundreds of years ago. What I know is from the stories of my own master."

"Sorry, did you say hundreds of years ago?" Jiang interrupted, unable to help himself.

Mistress Bai tilted her head at him, fortunately not offended by the interruption. "Yes? Were you told something different?"

"I—no, I just didn't know it was that long ago."

That was an understatement. That meant both Old Nan and Mistress Bai were also hundreds of years old. He knew that cultivators were called immortals, and that they could supposedly live forever, but… to stand across from someone who barely looked older than his mother, and know that she was actually older than his great-great-great-grandparents? That was another thing entirely.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

At least Old Nan had the decency to look her age.

Mistress Bai blinked, letting out a peal of laughter. Her ability to read his thoughts from his expressions was getting a little old. "Ah, I see. I look good for my age, do I not?" she teased, before her expression turned serious again. "The reason Pact-bearers are so valuable is because of bottlenecks. Every cultivator has a limit, a 'soft cap' on their advancement determined by what most call talent. Unlike in the more traditional sense, when a cultivator talks about talent, they are not referring to how quickly you progress – though there is often a correlation – but instead they speak of how far you can progress before meeting a bottleneck. When a cultivator hits their bottleneck, the only way to break through is to defy their fate – to find and slay a powerful spirit beast, to survive an impossible trial, to push themselves to the very brink of death and back again."

She paused, a wry expression crossing her face. "As you might imagine, the mortality rate for those trying this method is rather high."

"And… Pact-bearers are different somehow?" Jiang ventured, seeing the obvious direction she was heading.

"And Pact-bearers are different," she confirmed. "Oh, you certainly still have bottlenecks, but they seem much less… absolute. And, for reasons no one truly understands, that effect extends – to a much lesser degree – to those who cultivate alongside you. I believe the going theory is that you are more 'connected' to the world around you, which eases the advancement towards ascension."

She quirked a brow at his uncomprehending expression. "I don't claim to understand it myself. Either way, the important thing is that the effects, while not understood, are very real. In the old days, when a group of cultivators reached a shared bottleneck, they would seek out a Pact-bearer of similar advancement and form an adventuring party. These were the groups that inspired the fables and legends – men and women throwing themselves at the most dangerous threats in the world, all for the chance to break through to the next realm."

Jiang's mind raced, the pieces of a puzzle he hadn't even known existed starting to fall into place. "So if I'm so useful, why would anyone want to kill me? Wouldn't it make more sense for them to… work with me?"

"Of course it would," she agreed. "And every major Sect in the Empire would kill to have you. But that is the problem. Unless one Sect can lay an undeniable claim to you and has the power to defend that claim, it is in every other Sect's best interest to see you dead. Not because they fear you, but because they fear what you could become in the hands of their rivals. You are not a threat, Jiang Tian. You are a prize. And the great Sects would rather burn a prize to the ground than see another claim it." She gave him a final, sharp look. "Every major sect in the empire has at least one Pact-bearer. The great sects hoard them. The lesser sects squabble for scraps. And should another appear without protection?" She spread her hands. "Chaos."

Silence stretched between them.

Jiang's stomach churned. So then, Old Nan hadn't lied, not exactly. She'd just told him the version that left no room for doubt, no room for hesitation. Stay hidden or die. But now… now he had to wonder what the truth really was.

Mistress Bai watched him carefully, that faint, amused smile still playing about her lips. "You see now why you should be careful – but, if you are very clever and just a bit lucky, you can use this to your advantage."

He did. Well, to be honest, he mostly just saw the risks involved in letting the sects know about the Pact. In that sense, at least, Old Nan's advice was still accurate – it was just the reasons she hadn't been totally honest about. He could live with that.

Still, there was an aspect he didn't understand.

"Why?" Jiang asked bluntly. "Why tell me any of this? You don't have a reason to kill me, fine, but why not sell me off to a sect? If I'm as valuable as you suggest, you'd make a fortune."

He stiffened, realising belatedly that he wasn't usually this forthcoming. Something was pushing him, nudging his tongue looser than it should have been.

"Well, you're certainly not shy, are you?" Mistress Bai mused, something glinting in her eye. "To put it bluntly, even if I were the type to do something as repugnant as selling you to a sect, they're likely as not to try and kill me off, just to make sure I don't tell anyone else what they now have. I wouldn't make it simple for them, of course, but the risk is there. And even if they didn't, I would get nothing more than some cultivation resources – valuable, certainly, but nothing I couldn't eventually source myself."

She leaned back in her chair. "And as for the benefits I might miss out on? There's no shame in telling you that I am at a bottleneck in my own cultivation – as are most at my level. And while you are currently far too weak to be of any direct help in that regard, you won't always be. Assuming you live long enough, of course."

She gave him a direct look. "Giving you this information costs me nothing but a bit of time – not even worth mentioning. But earning the goodwill of a Pact-bearer on the rise… well, that's worth something. Think of it as an investment. I plant a seed now, and someday, when you have grown, I will harvest a fruit. Or perhaps you die before then, and I lose nothing but a few minutes of conversation. I can afford the gamble."

He frowned, but she continued before he could respond.

"So, let us be plain. I will propose a deal. I will help you. Your associate, the Azure Sky disciple, has already informed me of your immediate problem with this Gao Leng. I will assist you in dealing with him – which aligns with my own interests in maintaining stability in the city, not to mention killing demonic cultivators is practically a public service anyway. Further, and probably of more interest to you, I will lend my resources to help you retrieve your family."

Now that caught his attention.

Her gaze hardened, becoming sharp as glass. "In return, at some point in the future—be it in a year, a decade, or a century—I will call upon you for a single favour. You will honour it, whatever it may be." She raised a single, elegant finger. "A caveat, however. This is a transactional arrangement. It does not make us allies in all things. Should one of the Great Sects come for you, I will not stand in their way. I have no interest in being drawn into their political wars. Do you understand the terms?"

Jiang's mind raced. It was a good deal. An incredibly good deal. He needed her help, and a single, future favour was a small price to pay for finding his family. A strange feeling settled over him, a sense that accepting was the polite, reasonable thing to do.

If he hadn't already been looking out for something affecting his decision-making, he probably would have missed it. But even as he identified the subtle manipulation, he couldn't find a flaw in the logic. She was offering him exactly what he needed, and her terms were, from a certain point of view, entirely fair. She was a businesswoman, not a charity, and she was laying out the terms of their contract with perfect, brutal honesty.

"I understand," he said, his voice steady.

"So you accept my terms?" she pressed, intent.

He met her gaze.

"I accept."

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