Lao Xie didn't respond right away.
He stood there in silence, his figure half-shrouded in the soft shadows of the alley, still as ever, yet with a pressure that hadn't faded in the slightest. He didn't need to speak. The weight in the air said more than words could.
The older man was the first to move. He cautiously raised both hands, palms open and fingers trembling, as if hoping the gesture alone would be enough to save his life.
"I'll tell you everything," he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "The commissioner who gave us this job… I'll name him."
Only then did Lao Xie's steps come to a stop.
The oppressive pressure that had been steadily rising didn't disappear, but it no longer deepened. Instead, it settled — like a heavy curtain drawn over the alley, keeping the air thick and unmoving.
The older one nodded rapidly. "It was someone from the inner court. We never got a full name, but his surname was Li. That's all we know, I swear."
He glanced back at the older man, expression unreadable. "Surname Li, you said?"
"Yes! Yes! Just that surname. The task was only to observe you, nothing else. We were told to watch, gather anything that looked out of place, and report back. That's all," the man answered, speaking faster now, almost stumbling over his words.
"I see," Lao Xie said softly, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And did you find anything?"
"Huh?" The man blinked, caught off guard. "I—what do you mean?"
"I'm asking if you found anything suspicious," Lao Xie repeated, voice still even, but colder now. "Was there anything worth reporting?"
The moment he said it, something clicked. The older man's breath caught. His mind scrambled to keep up, but the implication had already landed.
"N-no," he said, stumbling back a step. "We didn't find anything. Nothing strange. We were just doing what we were told. That's all! Please… we've told you everything we know."
There was a brief silence as he tried to gauge Lao Xie's reaction, but he was met with nothing. No shift in posture, no change in expression. Just those dark, half-lidded eyes watching them as if they were already buried beneath the dirt.
The older man forced a shaky breath, then added quickly, "We'll call it off. The mission— we'll report it as a failure, and we'll forget this happened. You won't hear from us again."
Still, Lao Xie remained silent.
His gaze swept over the two of them — the older one sweating through his collar, the younger one standing unnaturally straight, like a puppet too tense to move. Neither spoke. Neither dared.
Seconds passed, yet they felt stretched and uneasy, like time itself had begun to slow in the narrow alley.
Eventually, the older man spoke again, this time with a forced chuckle that didn't quite reach his eyes. "We can… go now, right?"
The words hung in the air, desperate and uncertain.
Then came Lao Xie's reply — slow, measured, and quiet enough to make the blood drain from their faces.
"…I don't remember giving you permission to leave."
The silence that followed was different from before.
It wasn't awkward. It was terrifying.
Both of them froze in place, and for the first time since they'd entered the alley, it dawned on them — that unless they turned and ran now, they might not be able to run at all.
"…I don't remember giving you permission to leave."
The older man's smile cracked instantly.
He didn't dare move. Neither did the younger one. Both stood frozen in place, held still by a voice that hadn't even risen above a whisper — but somehow, that made it all the more terrifying.
Lao Xie took a step forward.
It was slow, casual, but each movement felt deliberate, like a quiet predator closing in. His gaze shifted lazily between them, and when he finally spoke again, his tone carried a strange calmness — almost as if he were simply mulling over a passing thought.
"Silencing you here wouldn't be difficult."
He said it like one might comment on the weather. There was no anger in his voice, no sharp edge — just a mild suggestion, the way someone might ponder whether or not to sweep away a bit of dust clinging to their sleeve.
His next words followed just as easily.
"After all, what good are spies who get caught? Might even make a decent lesson. The next ones might think twice before trailing me again."
The younger spy visibly flinched. The older one looked like he wanted to kneel then and there, his breath caught in his throat.
But just as the pressure thickened again, Lao Xie stopped, his head tilting slightly.
"…No," he murmured.
Something had shifted in his eyes. The casual threat faded, not because he had grown merciful, but because something else had taken its place — a different thought, sharper and more calculating.
"It's not worth staining the streets over something so small. Not yet."
His gaze sharpened as he stepped forward once more. "But since I've spared you… you owe me a proper answer. Who are you really working for?"
"We told you—"
"The commissioner is one thing," Lao Xie cut in, tone steady. "But you're not just some wandering rats picking up scraps for coin. You're too clean for that."
His voice dropped slightly, each word slower than the last.
"So let me ask again. Who sent you? Which faction do you belong to?"
Neither man answered.
Their silence wasn't just fear now — it was hesitation. As if they knew what the answer would cost them.
But Lao Xie had no patience for it.
A sudden pressure pulsed outward from where he stood — cold, sharp, and invisible, like a blade being slowly unsheathed. He didn't move, but something in the air twisted. The younger spy staggered back, clutching his chest as though something heavy had landed against it.
"...You're still hesitating?" Lao Xie's voice was still soft, but now, the cold in it was unmistakable.
"I could just end you both here. I already said that once. No one would care. No one would notice. The market's too loud, and people here are too used to blood."
The older spy gritted his teeth, his forehead damp with sweat. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
Lao Xie took another step, now barely a foot away.
"Last chance."
That was all he said.
Finally, the older man cracked.
"…Black Heaven," he said hoarsely. "We're from the Black Heaven Organisation."
Lao Xie raised a brow. "Black Heaven?"
He'd heard of them before — mostly whispers, but they carried weight. Black Heaven wasn't just some back-alley intelligence group. They had reach, and more importantly, they had roots. Information, blackmail, quiet killings — they made their living not from what they showed, but from what they could quietly erase.
"I think i remember that… Which branch?" Lao Xie asked without missing a beat.
"The nearest one… just outside the southern border of the province," the man said quickly. "We're not killers, I swear. We're from the intel department."
"So," Lao Xie said slowly, "you're not assassins."
"No! We only deal in gathering reports. Our division doesn't do… removals."
"And yet," Lao Xie glanced at the younger one with the daggers still trembling at his side, "you did bring weapons."
"That was… that was only in case we got exposed! You weren't meant to notice us at all!"
Lao Xie didn't reply immediately.
He looked down at his hand, then slowly brought it up, brushing his sleeve lightly as if dusting something off. His gaze returned to the two spies, not cold this time — just calm.