Chapter 13: The Due Diligence From Hell

The meeting with Consortium Master Huo lasted three hours. Ren emerged with a parchment contract, a splitting headache, and the distinct feeling he'd just signed a deal with a demon who happened to wear scholar's robes.

"We need to talk," he said to Mei and Li Chen.

They found a tea house three streets from the Azure Pavilion. It was cheap, which meant the tea tasted like boiled weeds, but it had private rooms and the walls weren't enchanted for eavesdropping. Ren spread the contract across the table.

"He's investing," Ren said. "Three thousand low-grade spirit stones upfront. Another seven thousand upon completion of our first major project."

Li Chen's eyes went wide. "Ten thousand? That's enough to—"

"Read the terms."

Mei snatched the parchment. Her eyes moved rapidly, scanning line after line, her expression darkening with each passing second. By the time she reached the bottom, her face had gone pale.

"This is a death trap."

"It's a standard venture capital term sheet," Ren said. "With some... modifications."

"'Standard' doesn't include a clause that gives the investor the right to replace the sect master if he determines 'insufficient progress' has been made," Mei snapped. "What constitutes insufficient progress?"

"Unclear."

"'The investor retains the right to audit all cultivation techniques developed by the sect.' All of them. Forever."

"I noticed."

"'Any intellectual property created using investor funds becomes joint property of the investor and the sect, with the investor holding primary licensing rights.' Primary. That means he can sell our techniques to anyone he wants. We'd have no control."

Li Chen grabbed the contract, reading over Mei's shoulder. His finger traced条款 after条款. "This one says he gets a seat on the sect council. With veto power over all major decisions."

"Major decisions being defined as 'any decision involving expenditures over one hundred spirit stones, any new disciple admissions, any alliance agreements, and any changes to the sect's cultivation methods.'"

The drunk sword master set down his tea cup — which he'd somehow refilled with wine. "So basically, he owns us."

"Basically."

Mei slammed her hand on the table. "Then why did you sign it?!"

"Because the alternative was no funding. No temple repairs. No formation arrays. No future." Ren met her eyes. "And because I added a few clauses of my own."

He pulled out a second parchment from his robes. This one was handwritten, the ink still fresh.

"What's this?" Mei asked.

"An amendment. Hidden in the section about dispute resolution. It says that any disagreements about 'sufficient progress' will be settled by a third-party arbitrator selected by the sect. Not the investor."

"That's..."

"Unusual. But Huo was so focused on the control clauses that he skimmed the boilerplate. I made the font small. And I buried it between seventeen paragraphs about force majeure and governing law."

Li Chen stared at him. "You tricked a consortium master?"

"I didn't trick him. I just made sure the contract had a back door. Every good cultivator knows you never enter a formation without knowing the exit."

Mei's anger slowly transformed into grudging respect. "Fine. That covers the control issue. But what about the audit clause? The licensing rights?"

"We negotiate those later. Right now, we need the money. And we need to move fast."

"Move fast for what?"

Ren stood. "Huo wants to see our 'operations' tomorrow. He's sending a due diligence team. They'll inspect the temple, interview the disciples, review our cultivation methods. If they don't like what they see, the deal's off."

"So we need to make the temple look like a real sect."

"In twenty-four hours."

Li Chen drained his wine. "I know a guy who knows a guy who can forge ancient-looking scrolls. For a price."

"I know a formation master who owes me favors," Mei added. "She can set up some basic arrays that look impressive but cost almost nothing to maintain. Display arrays. Light shows. Nothing functional."

Ren nodded. "Good. I'll handle the disciples. We need to make them look like proper cultivators, not a drunk, a gambler, and a chef."

"Hey—"

"Present company included."

They split up, each taking a different direction through the city's twisting streets. Ren headed back toward the temple, his mind racing through everything that needed to be done.

The temple looked worse in daylight. Cracks in the foundation. Holes in the roof. Weeds growing through the courtyard stones. A statue of some forgotten deity that had lost its head centuries ago.

Ren stood in the courtyard, hands on his hips, and tried to see it through Huo's eyes.

It looked like a ruin. Because it was a ruin.

He had one day to make it look like a sect.

"Master!"

Ren turned. The chef — his name was Wang, a rotund man with flour permanently embedded in his apron — came running from the kitchen. "Master, the formation expert just used the last of the spirit stones on a gambling debt. He says he'll pay it back, but—"

"He what?"

"He said it was an 'investment opportunity.' His exact words."

Ren pinched the bridge of his nose. "Where is he now?"

"The East Market. The underground fighting pits."

Of course.

"Keep cooking," Ren said. "Make it smell good. We're going to have visitors tomorrow, and I need the place to feel... prosperous."

Wang nodded, though he clearly had no idea what "prosperous" meant in this context.

Ren found the formation expert at the fighting pits, exactly where Wang had said. The man — Old Zhang, a wiry cultivator with more debts than teeth — was watching two Qi Condensation fighters beat each other senseless while holding a betting slip.

"Zhang."

"Master! Perfect timing. I have a guaranteed winner—"

"You spent our last spirit stones on gambling."

"Investment. I told you. Investment."

Ren grabbed him by the collar. "Tomorrow, a consortium master is sending a due diligence team. They're going to inspect our sect. If they find out we're broke, the deal falls apart, and we all go back to eating wild grass and sleeping in the rain."

Old Zhang's face went pale. "What do you need?"

"Formations. Lots of them. Showy ones that don't cost much to maintain. Can you do it?"

"I can... but I need materials. Array flags, spirit ink, alignment tools—"

"How much?"

"At least two hundred spirit stones."

Ren closed his eyes. They had exactly zero spirit stones. The three thousand from Huo wouldn't arrive until the contract was fully executed, which required the due diligence team's approval.

"Find a way," Ren said. "Borrow. Steal. I don't care. Just get it done."

Old Zhang nodded, and Ren released him.

By evening, the temple had transformed — superficially. Old Zhang had somehow acquired enough materials to set up three display formations: one that made the walls glow with ethereal light, one that circulated spiritual energy in visible currents, and one that projected the image of a majestic mountain peak above the temple roof.

"The third one is a bit much," Ren admitted.

"The consortium master likes grandeur. Trust me."

Mei returned with a stack of forged scrolls. "Ancient cultivation techniques, supposedly from the Lost Dynasty period. They're actually just common breathing exercises with fancy names, but the calligraphy is convincing."

Li Chen stumbled in an hour later, smelling of wine and carrying a jade token. "Information. The due diligence team leader is a woman named Lin. She's known for being thorough. She once spent three weeks auditing a minor sect before approving a loan. Three. Weeks."

"We don't have three weeks. We have one day."

"Then we need to make sure she doesn't find anything worth auditing."

The morning came too fast.

Ren stood at the temple gates, wearing his best robes — freshly washed, though the patches were still visible if you looked closely. Behind him, the disciples stood in a line. Mei had drilled them on proper etiquette until they could recite the greetings in their sleep.

Wang had prepared a feast. Old Zhang had the formations running. Li Chen had hidden all evidence of his gambling addiction.

The due diligence team arrived at exactly the hour of the serpent.

There were five of them. Lin was in front — a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and sharper cheekbones, wearing robes that cost more than Ren's entire sect. Behind her were two assistants carrying jade tablets for note-taking, a formation expert with a detection artifact, and a guard who looked like he could break bones with a glare.

"Sect Master Ren," Lin said, her voice neutral. "Thank you for hosting us."

"Thank you for coming. Please, allow me to show you our facilities."

The tour took two hours. Lin asked questions about everything. The foundation cracks ("Structural reinforcement is scheduled for next month"). The missing roof tiles ("A design choice — it allows better spiritual energy absorption during rainfall"). The headless statue ("A meditation aid. Empty vessels reflect the emptiness of the mind").

She didn't seem convinced.

The formation expert with the detection artifact kept frowning at Old Zhang's arrays. "These are... recent."

"We maintain them regularly," Ren said smoothly. "Formations degrade without proper care."

"They're still warm from activation."

"We activated them this morning. For your visit. To show respect."

Lin's eyes narrowed.

The feast was a disaster. Wang had prepared his best dishes, but Lin barely touched them. She spent the meal asking pointed questions about the sect's finances, cultivation methods, and disciple retention rates.

"How many disciples do you have?"

"Currently, four. But we're selective about admissions. Quality over quantity."

"Quality. Yes." She glanced at Old Zhang, who was nervously sweating. "Your formation expert seems... unwell."

"He's been working hard. Preparing for your visit."

By evening, Ren was exhausted. The team had found nothing incriminating, but they also hadn't found anything impressive. The temple was still a ruin with fancy lights.

Lin called him aside as the sun set.

"Sect Master Ren. I've reviewed your records. Your proposal. Your facilities."

"And?"

She handed him a parchment. "Here is my preliminary assessment."

Ren read it. His heart sank.

The assessment was thorough. It listed every flaw. The structural damage. The recent formations. The suspicious scrolls. The lack of qualified disciples.

It ended with a recommendation: "Further investigation required. Funding withheld pending complete audit."

"I'll be staying in the city for the next month," Lin said. "I look forward to working with you."

She walked away, leaving Ren standing alone in the courtyard, the parchment trembling in his hands.

The deal was dead.

Unless—

"You know," said a voice from behind him, "I could make her disappear. No questions asked."

Ren turned. Li Chen stood there, his hand resting on his sword.

"No," Ren said.

"Just saying. It's an option."

"It's not an option."

"Fine." Li Chen shrugged. "But we have another problem."

"What now?"

"The drunk sword master just challenged Lin's guard to a duel. Something about 'disrespectful posture.' He's currently in the middle of the street, sword drawn, shouting insults."

Ren closed his eyes.

Of course.

"I'll handle it," he said, already running.

But as he reached the street, he saw something that made him stop.

The guard was on the ground. Unconscious. The drunk sword master stood over him, swaying slightly, his sword pointed at Lin's throat.

"I said," the drunk repeated, "you need to show more respect."

Lin's face was pale. Her hands were raised.

And a crowd was gathering.

This was going to be a long month.