After days in the clean, silent emptiness of the wilds, Jiang found Qinghe to be an assault on his senses. If anything, it was worse than the first time he'd arrived here – if nothing else, he'd advanced twice since then, and his senses were sharper.

The air was thick with coal smoke and the stench of the gutters, a thousand conversations mashed together into a single, dull roar. Jiang felt his shoulders tighten, a familiar tension settling in his gut.

Zhang seemed utterly unaffected, or even a little more relaxed here than out in the wilds. Jiang… just couldn't understand it. Still, he had to admit – even if just in the privacy of his mind – that travelling with Zhang had been… useful.

The disciple's instruction had undeniably accelerated his progress. But the constant, analytical presence had been exhausting. Jiang hadn't missed the way Zhang's gaze lingered on him after his breakthrough, or the increasingly sharp questions about the nature of his techniques. He'd taken a small, petty satisfaction in watching the perfect disciple's composure fray at the edges. It was probably a little reckless to show off his pace of advancement, to be honest – Old Nan had told him what the sects did to cultivators with Pacts, after all – but he wasn't planning on sticking around Zhang for long enough that it became an issue anyway, so it was probably fine.

They stopped in a narrow side alley, the press of the crowd a churning river just a few paces away. "I believe this is where we part ways," Zhang said, his tone all business. "As discussed, I will make inquiries with Mistress Bai and the other independent cultivators in the city, while you approach the Broker."

"I know," Jiang confirmed, rolling his eyes. Did Zhang think he was an idiot? This was the third time the disciple had repeated the – very simple – plan. "And before you say it, again, I also remember that we're meeting at the eastern gate in two days' time."

Most of those two days were to give Zhang enough time to ask around with the independent cultivators. Apparently, it wasn't as simple as just walking about and asking them questions – there was a whole political song and dance that needed to be observed to avoid 'offending' anyone. Which took time.

"Better to make sure there are no uncertainties about our respective actions," Zhang said sternly, reaching into his robes and pulling out a heavy iron token with the symbol of the Azure Sky Sect carved into its surface. "Show this to the Broker. It will make it clear you are acting with the Sect's authority, and may encourage his honesty. And be sure to explain the reasons behind our search for Gao Leng – this is not a matter that is aided by secrecy."

Jiang took the offered token with a raised eyebrow. "Thanks."

It probably said something about him that his first thought was how else he could use this to his advantage.

Zhang seemed to read something of his intentions on his face. "I will be expecting that back when we meet," he said pointedly.

"Yeah, yeah," Jiang waved him off. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Zhang didn't dignify him with a response, just turning and striding off into the crowd without another word.

Jiang let out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing the moment he was alone. Though, of course, 'alone' was a relative thing in the middle of a city. He scowled briefly at the press of humanity just past the entrance to the alley before turning and looking thoughtfully at the rooftops above him. It was probably overkill to run across the roofs solely for the sake of avoiding the crowds for the few minutes it would take him to get to the Bar above the Broker's office, but…

— — —

A few minutes later, Jiang landed softly on the street just outside the Bar, ignoring the other people in the street startling at his sudden appearance. He pushed through the door into the familiar gloom, the air thick with the smell of stale ale and greasy food. The place was half-empty, a few patrons hunched over their cups in sullen silence. Jiang's eyes went immediately to the shelf behind the bar. The corner where the ornate bottle of southern liquor should have been was empty.

The Broker wasn't in.

Jiang swore under his breath, hesitating a moment before making his way over to the counter where the barkeep was absently wiping the bar with a rag that had clearly seen better days.

"What'll it be?"

"When will the Broker be in?" Jiang asked bluntly.

"No idea who you're talking about."

"Fine," Jiang rolled his eyes. "Let me rephrase. When are you expecting a delivery of that fancy southern liquor? The one with the gold label that goes up on the corner of the shelf."

That got a reaction, though it was little more than a flicker of annoyance in the man's eyes. He eyed Jiang for a moment before grunting, clearly deciding that it wasn't his problem. "Heard we might be getting a delivery soon. An hour, maybe."

Jiang sighed. An hour. It was an irritatingly awkward length of time – too short to go anywhere else, too long to just sit and do nothing. His stomach growled, a pointed reminder he hadn't eaten since the morning's jerky. He eyed the kitchen door, remembering the grime and the questionable cooking pot from his last visit.

He grimaced, then shrugged. Screw it. He was hungry. He tapped on the bar again. "I'll take a bowl of stew while I wait, then."

The barkeep eyed Jiang dubiously before shrugging again. "Six copper. Take a seat wherever."

Jiang tossed the coins on the counter and picked his way through the gloomy room to a table in the back corner to wait in relative peace.

To his pleasant surprise, the stew, when it came, was surprisingly good – thick with root vegetables and chunks of savoury, unidentifiable meat. He ate quickly, the hot food a welcome change from days of trail rations. With time to kill and nothing else to do, his attention drifted to the deep shadows pooled beneath his table.

He focused, reaching out with his Qi. The process was becoming more familiar, more intuitive – and as much as he hated to admit it, Zhang's advice had been exceptionally helpful.

It felt less like commanding an external force and more like investing a portion of himself into the darkness. He had to supply a significant amount of Qi at first, a heavy initial push that seemed to vanish into the void with no effect. But then, something would click.

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A strange, dim feeling would return to him from the shadow, like the sensation of a limb that had gone numb. He couldn't feel texture or temperature, but he could feel a vague sense of pressure, of presence. It made controlling the shadow both easier and harder. On the one hand, moving it was becoming more instinctive, his intentions translating into motion with a speed that the Pact was clearly guiding. On the other hand, it felt like learning to use a new, clumsy limb he'd never had before, the feedback muffled and imprecise. Still, he was a quick learner.

A heavy thud on his table made him jump, breaking his concentration. He looked up to see a large, red-faced man swaying over him, a half-empty tankard sloshing in one meaty fist. The man's eyes were bloodshot and belligerent.

"Hey," the man slurred, jabbing a thick finger in Jiang's direction. "You're in my seat."

Jiang stared at him, then at the half-dozen other empty tables in the gloomy room. He was about to tell the man to get lost, but then a different, more amusing idea came to him.

He turned his gaze to an empty stool at the adjacent table. Reaching out with his newly formed shadow-limb, he focused. He could feel the dull, phantom pressure as the tip of his shadow made contact with the wooden leg of the stool. It was clumsy, like trying to nudge a stone with a foot that had fallen asleep, but it was enough.

The stool scraped loudly across the floorboards, wobbling as it slid a few feet through the dirt, seemingly on its own. It came to a stop right beside the drunk with a soft bump.

"This one's free," Jiang offered with a quiet smile.

The drunk eyed the chair with a pale face, peering at the mug in his hand suspiciously before looking back at Jiang. "Never mind," he managed, swaying a little before staggering off towards the exit, casting a few slightly nervous glances behind him.

Jiang watched him go, noticing how the few other patrons who had noticed the display were now studiously ignoring him, their attention fixed firmly on their drinks. As he turned back to his own table, he saw the barkeep moving behind the counter and placing a single, gleaming bottle of clear liquor on the corner of the top shelf.

Good timing. He was just starting to get bored.

— — —

As he made his way down the hidden staircase to the Broker's office, Jiang absently wondered if being a cultivator was changing him. He'd never been a shy person, as such, but he had been more… non-confrontational, back before he started cultivating. In fairness, it was usually because he simply couldn't be bothered, but still – it simply wouldn't have occurred to him to mess with someone the way he'd freaked out the drunkard back there.

But then, was that so strange?

Back when he'd been a mortal – and that was still a weird thing to think about – picking a fight with a drunk in a tavern would have been a stupid, pointless risk. Now, a man like that didn't even register as a threat. The power dynamic had shifted so completely that he could afford to be a little petty, to amuse himself by moving a stool with an invisible force, because there was absolutely nothing the man could do about it.

That… was probably something he should try to keep an eye on. Especially because there were still quite a few people out there that he really couldn't afford to act out around. Such as, for example, the man he was about to meet.

Not that the Broker posed a physical danger to him, of course, but on a social level Jiang was self-aware enough to know he was well and truly out of his depth.

Jiang pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as he opened the familiar, heavy door at the bottom of the stairs. The Broker's office was exactly as he remembered it: the same unnervingly tidy desk, the same wall of sealed drawers, and the Broker himself, sitting behind it like a spider in his web. The man's featureless wooden mask tilted up as Jiang entered.

"Jiang Tian," the Broker said, his voice the same flat, neutral tone as before. "An unexpected pleasure. I had not anticipated your return to Qinghe so soon. I trust your hunt was successful?"

Jiang paused. Something about that sentence felt… weirdly off somehow. It wasn't anything overt, but there was a subtle flicker of tension in the man's posture, a faint, discordant note in the steady rhythm of his Qi. The Broker was surprised to see him, yes, but he was also… displeased. Wary.

But Jiang didn't know how he could tell – the man was still wearing a mask, after all.

"It was a dead end," he said, ignoring the shift for now. He walked forward, stopping a few paces from the desk. "The Dead River Gang has been dealt with, but they knew nothing. I need information on someone else. A rogue cultivator named Gao Leng."

He watched the Broker carefully, but the man's posture remained perfectly still, his Qi a placid, unreadable pool. "Gao Leng," the Broker repeated, the name holding no particular weight. "A former disciple of the Azure Sky Sect, I believe. Cast out decades ago. His name has surfaced in certain circles from time to time, but he is a ghost. Difficult to track."

"He's more than a ghost," Jiang said, recalling Zhang's instructions. "He's been practising unorthodox cultivation. Using mortals, turning them into mindless, disposable soldiers. He's the one who's been gathering the bandit gangs, using them as a front for his 'harvests'." He let the words hang in the air, a clear, deliberate warning. Zhang had insisted it was important to frame this as a public threat, not just a personal quest.

The Broker was silent for a long moment. Even behind the mask, Jiang could feel the weight of his analytical gaze. "That is… a serious accusation," the man said finally, his voice still perfectly even. "And a dangerous one. Unorthodox practitioners are a threat to the stability of any region they inhabit. They disrupt the flow of trade, and their methods often invite the wrath of the great Sects."

"Which is why I need to find him," Jiang said. "What do you know?"

"Unfortunately, a man like that, one who has operated in the shadows for so long, does not leave an easy trail," the Broker replied smoothly. "My current records hold nothing of his recent whereabouts. He is a ghost for a reason." The answer was plausible, logical. But something about it felt wrong. It was too smooth, too practised. Jiang's Qi senses picked up another flicker, a subtle tightening in the Broker's energy, the kind of shift that came with a carefully constructed lie of omission.

The man was hiding something.

"But," the Broker continued, leaning forward slightly, "now that you have brought this matter to my attention, I will, of course, make it a priority. My network is vast. If there are whispers of Gao Leng, I will hear them. Leave it with me. I will have answers for you."

Jiang held the man's gaze for a long moment, the suspicion a hard knot in his gut. He didn't know why the Broker would lie, but he was certain he was. Pushing the issue now, however, would accomplish nothing.

"Fine," he said, turning to leave.

"There is, of course, the matter of payment," the Broker called from behind him. "As I'm sure you can imagine, retrieving information like this is not going to be easy – or cheap. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement, though."

Jiang paused, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the token Zhang had given him. He placed it down on the Broker's desk with a faint clink. The Broker's masked head tilted, his unseen gaze dropping to the emblem of the Azure Sky Sect.

"This isn't a personal request," Jiang said, his voice flat. "The Sect has taken an interest in Gao Leng and his unorthodox methods."

For a long moment, the Broker said nothing. Jiang could feel the shift in the room, the subtle change in the man's Qi from placid control to something tighter, more constrained. It was the feeling of a man who had just had his carefully laid plans disrupted.

"I see," the Broker said finally, his voice losing a fraction of its earlier smoothness. "That… does change the nature of the inquiry. Of course, any service rendered to the esteemed Azure Sky Sect is a matter of professional duty." He made a small, placating gesture with his hand. "There will be no charge."

Jiang gave a curt nod. He picked the token up—Zhang had been very clear he wanted it back—and slid it back into his pouch. He turned and walked out without another word, the Broker's silent, calculating gaze following him up the stairs.

He emerged back into the grimy tavern, his mind working. The Broker wasn't just hiding information; he was actively trying to obstruct the search by leveraging payment. The token had forced his hand, but the question remained: why? What was his connection to Gao Leng? What game was he playing?

He knew he couldn't trust any information the man eventually provided, not without verifying it first. He needed another angle, another source.

He pushed his way out into the cold Qinghe evening, his goal already clear in his mind. There was only one other person in this city he knew of that knew something about unorthodox cultivation and might be willing to help. Jiang started walking, his steps sure and steady, toward the familiar, crooked streets of the lower city.

Time to go see Old Nan again.

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