Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Wu Chen arrived at the warehouse three hours past midnight, not at dusk as Zhao Feng had expected. He came alone, moving through the shadows with the practiced silence of a man who did not wish to be seen.

Zhao Feng watched from a crack in the wall of the abandoned teahouse next door. The building had been closed for years, but its upper floor offered a clear view of the warehouse entrance. He'd spent the evening pretending to inventory crates, then slipped out through a back window and climbed to this perch.

The merchant—if that's what Wu Chen truly was—paused at the locked door. He didn't try to break it. Instead, he knelt and examined the ground around the threshold. Then he rose, nodded to himself, and walked the perimeter of the building. Three times.

*Clever,* Zhao Feng thought. The man was checking for disturbances. Footprints. Signs of regular traffic. He was learning the warehouse's rhythms before attempting entry.

Wu Chen stopped at the rear wall, where a loose board could be pried open with enough force. He didn't pry it. He simply crouched there for a long moment, touching the wood grain, then stood and walked back to the front.

And then he left.

Zhao Feng waited until the man's figure disappeared into the maze of streets before descending from his perch. His legs ached from hours of stillness, but his mind was sharp.

*He's not a thief,* Zhao Feng concluded. *Thieves take what they can carry. He's surveying. Mapping. Planning.*

That made Wu Chen more dangerous.

---

The next morning, Zhao Feng found Xiao Chen waiting outside his rented room in the slums. The boy looked thinner than yesterday, if that was possible, but his eyes were bright and focused.

"He went to the Iron Pagoda," Xiao Chen said without preamble. "Three separate teahouses around it. Met with different people at each. Kept his hood up the whole time."

"Did you get close enough to hear anything?"

"Close enough to read lips." The boy's mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "He's asking about shipment routes. Which caravans come from the southern mines. When they arrive. Who guards them."

Zhao Feng's blood went cold. The qi stone shipments from the southern mines—that was exactly what he'd been planning to target. In his past life, the south had been plagued by bandit attacks for years, with the major trading houses losing fortunes to raids. Zhao Feng had built his first fortune by offering protection services to those same caravans, using the profits to buy up the mines themselves.

But here, now, with no reputation and no armed force, he couldn't protect anything. And if Wu Chen was also positioning himself to intercept those shipments...

"You said he met with different people," Zhao Feng pressed. "Did you recognize any of them?"

Xiao Chen hesitated. "One. A woman. Early twenties. Wore a veil, but her hands were calloused in a specific pattern—sword calluses, but not from a standard grip. She favors a curved blade, I'd say. Northern style."

Zhao Feng stared at the boy. "How do you know that?"

"My mother was a sword instructor. Before she died." The boy's voice was flat, but his eyes flickered with something old and painful. "She taught me to read hands before I could read words."

Another piece of the puzzle. Xiao Chen was proving more valuable with each passing day. But the woman with the curved blade—that description set off alarms in Zhao Feng's memory.

*Northern style. Veiled. Young.*

There was only one woman in this city who fit that description, and she was the daughter of the Iron Pagoda's master. The same woman who, in Zhao Feng's past life, had orchestrated the assassination of three rival trading house leaders in a single night.

*Liu Yuxin.*

"If Wu Chen is meeting with her," Zhao Feng muttered, "then he's not working alone. He's working for someone connected to the Iron Pagoda."

The Iron Pagoda wasn't just a teahouse. It was the neutral ground where merchants and cultivators gathered to exchange information. Its master, Liu Tianhao, was one of the most powerful figures in the city—not because of his cultivation, which was modest, but because of his information network. Everyone paid tribute to the Iron Pagoda, one way or another.

And his daughter was a blade in silk.

"Do you know who she is?" Xiao Chen asked.

"I know who her father is." Zhao Feng began pacing, his mind racing through possibilities. "The question is whether she's acting on his orders or her own."

"What's the difference?"

"Her father would want to control the qi stone market. He'd approach me with an offer—buy low, sell high, use his network to distribute. But if she's acting alone..." Zhao Feng stopped pacing. "She'd want to eliminate competitors. Permanently."

Xiao Chen's hand drifted to the small knife at his belt. "Then we kill her first."

"No." Zhao Feng's voice was sharp. "That's how you lose. Killing is the last resort of a merchant who's run out of ideas. There's always a better play."

"Like what?"

Zhao Feng didn't answer immediately. He was already thinking about the southern shipments, the timing, the routes. In his past life, the first major raid had happened in three weeks' time, at a narrow pass called the Serpent's Spine. The bandits had been led by a rogue cultivator named Fang Po, who'd used the stolen qi stones to fuel his breakthrough to the Core Formation realm.

But there was something else about that raid. Something he hadn't remembered until now.

*Fang Po had inside information. Precise timing. Exact cargo manifests.*

Someone in the city had sold him that information. And in Zhao Feng's past life, he'd never discovered who.

But now, with Wu Chen asking about shipment routes and meeting with Liu Yuxin...

"Change of plans," Zhao Feng said. "I need you to follow the woman. Learn her routines. Where she goes. Who she sees. But do not approach her. Do not let her see you."

"What about Wu Chen?"

"I'll handle him myself."

Xiao Chen nodded and slipped away without another word. Zhao Feng watched him go, then turned toward the merchant district.

He had a shipment to intercept before anyone else could.

---

The Serpent's Spine was a two-day journey from the city, a treacherous stretch of road that wound through the eastern mountains. Caravans traveling from the southern mines had to pass through it, and there was no alternative route—the mountains on one side, a raging river on the other.

Zhao Feng arrived three days before the next shipment was due. He traveled light, carrying only a few supplies and a pouch of low-grade qi stones for emergencies. His cultivation was still at the third level of the Qi Condensation realm—not enough to fight off a rogue cultivator, but enough to sense danger and run.

He found a hiding spot among the rocks above the pass and settled in to wait.

The first day passed uneventfully. A few travelers, a merchant with a broken cart, a squad of city guards on patrol. No sign of Fang Po or his bandits.

The second day, Zhao Feng noticed something strange.

A man had taken up position on the opposite ridge. He was well-hidden, but his qi signature flickered at the edge of Zhao Feng's perception—a low, steady hum that suggested he was a cultivator of moderate skill. Not Fang Po. This man was too disciplined, too patient.

*Someone else is watching the pass.*

Zhao Feng watched the man for the rest of the day. The stranger barely moved, barely breathed. He was a professional. A scout, perhaps. Or an assassin.

By nightfall, Zhao Feng had made a decision. He would approach the man directly, under the cover of darkness, and see who he was working for.

He moved carefully, using the terrain to mask his approach. The wind was in his favor, carrying his scent away from the stranger's position. The moon was new, providing minimal light.

He was twenty paces away when the man spoke.

"You can stop creeping around, merchant. I've known you were there since yesterday."

Zhao Feng froze. Then, slowly, he stepped into the open.

The stranger was young—mid-twenties, perhaps—with sharp features and cold eyes. He wore simple traveling clothes, but his hands were stained with ink, not blood. A scholar, not a soldier.

"You're the one who's been sniffing around the warehouse," Zhao Feng said. "Wu Chen. Or should I call you something else?"

The man's eyebrows rose slightly. "You're more perceptive than I gave you credit for. The boy who's been following me—is he yours?"

"If he is?"

"Then he's very good. I only spotted him twice." Wu Chen opened his hands in a gesture of peace. "I wasn't planning to rob you, you know. I was planning to offer you a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

Wu Chen smiled. "The kind that makes both of us very wealthy." He gestured to the pass below. "There's a shipment coming through here in two days. Qi stones, enough to fuel a small sect for a year. And there's a man named Fang Po who plans to steal it."

"I know about Fang Po."

"Then you know he has inside information. Someone's been feeding him details about the shipments. I've been trying to figure out who for months." Wu Chen's smile faded. "I thought it might be you. A new merchant with mysterious funding, buying properties no one else wanted. You fit the profile."

"And now?"

"Now I think you're trying to stop the raid. Which means you're either an idiot or you know something I don't."

Zhao Feng considered his options. He could lie, deflect, or tell the truth. The truth would expose his knowledge—potentially his origins as a reborn man—but it might also gain him an ally.

Fang Po was too strong to fight alone. Zhao Feng knew that from experience. In his past life, it had taken a coalition of three trading houses and a Core Formation elder to drive the rogue cultivator out of the region. If Wu Chen had resources...

"The raid is a distraction," Zhao Feng said slowly. "Fang Po's real target isn't the qi stones. It's the girl who's supposed to escort them."

Wu Chen's expression shifted. "What girl?"

"Her name is Lin Hongxiu. She's an outer disciple of the Verdant Sky Sect, on her way to the Immortal Ascension Tournament. She plans to pass through this region in three days, traveling with the caravan."

Wu Chen's face went pale. "How do you know this?"

"Because in another life, I watched her die." Zhao Feng let the weight of those words hang in the air. "Fang Po doesn't want the stones. He wants her techniques. The lightning arts she's mastered. They're the key to breaking through to the Core Formation realm."

A long silence stretched between them.

"You're not lying," Wu Chen said finally. "I can tell. But what you're saying is impossible."

"Is it?"

Wu Chen didn't answer. He was staring at Zhao Feng with new eyes—measuring, reassessing. "The tournament is six months away. If what you're saying is true, then Fang Po isn't just a bandit. He's working for someone. Someone who wants to eliminate the competition before it even begins."

The pieces clicked into place in Zhao Feng's mind.

*Liu Yuxin,* he thought. *She's not just gathering information. She's eliminating threats.*

"Who is Lin Hongxiu?" he asked aloud. "Really?"

Wu Chen's jaw tightened. "She's the daughter of the Verdant Sky Sect's master. And she's the only person who knows the location of the Hidden Lotus Vein—a qi stone deposit so rich it could sustain a sect for a hundred years."

A qi stone deposit that valuable would be worth more than everything Zhao Feng had planned. More than the tournament. More than any single deal he could make.

And he had just placed himself directly in the path of the people who wanted to control it.

"We need to warn her," Zhao Feng