The beast market of Frostgate City was a place of raw, chaotic energy, a stark contrast to the grim, disciplined order of the military city. The air was thick with the scent of fur, musk, and the faint, coppery tang of blood. The roars and cries of powerful, frost-aspected demonic beasts echoed off the ice-carved walls, a symphony of untamed power held in temporary check by glowing, runic cages.
Li Yu stood before the stall of a large, intimidating merchant from a powerful local clan, his gaze fixed on the dozen tanks filled with miserable-looking cephalopods. Beside him, Cyra's usual serene composure was a thin veneer over a deep, profound sadness.
"How much," Li Yu asked, his voice calm, "for all of them?"
The merchant, a hulking man whose face was a roadmap of old scars, looked from the tanks to Li Yu, then back again. He had seen this quiet youth and the impossibly elegant woman with him wandering the market, buying strange, low-value beasts. He had assumed they were eccentrics. But to buy his entire, high-priced collection of southern exotics in one go? This was not eccentricity; this was immense wealth.
A greedy, calculating glint entered his eyes. "For the whole lot?" he boomed, his voice a gravelly rumble. "These are rare, southern delicacies, my friend. Transporting them this far north is no easy task. I will give you a bargain, I assure you."
It was an outrageous price, at least double their actual market value. He was testing them, assuming their wealth made them foolish.
Li Yu didn't even blink. He simply looked at Fat Pig, who had just arrived, drawn by the commotion. Fat Pig, understanding his master's intent, stepped forward, his cheerful, merchant's smile firmly in place.
"How much did you say?" Fat Pig's voice was full of a cheerful, booming energy. "A bold opening price, my good sir! A sign of a man who knows the value of his own labor! I respect that!" He then launched into a masterclass of negotiation, a whirlwind of flattery, logic, and shrewd, undeniable business sense that he had learned at Kui's knee.
He spoke of transportation costs, of the limited market for such exotic food in a northern city, of the difficulty of keeping the beasts alive in this climate. He praised the merchant's keen eye, lamented the current state of the wartime economy, and somehow, through a dizzying display of mercantile artistry. He ended the negotiation having purchased the entire lot for a mere third of the given price, a price that was still slightly above market value, but one that left the scarred merchant feeling as if he had been bested by a grandmaster.
The rescued cephalopods were carefully transferred into a high-grade, water-filled container from the Guild's carriage, their despairing eyes now holding a faint, confused glimmer of hope. Cyra personally oversaw the transfer, her serene face now holding a look of quiet.
While Li Yu and Cyra continued their quiet exploration of the city, Fat Pig's true work began. His days became a whirlwind of diplomacy.
He also met with the heads of the established, independent merchant houses of Frostgate City.
Here, he did not always find success. The ancient, proud Snow-Mane Clan, who had controlled the city's fur trade for five hundred years, politely but firmly refused his offer of a distribution partnership. "We have our own routes, our own traditions," their old patriarch had told him. "We have no need of a southern guild." Fat Pig, recognizing an unbreakable wall of pride, had simply wished them well and moved on. A good merchant knows which deals to walk away from.
But with the smaller, more ambitious merchant families, he found fertile ground. He offered them access to new, exotic goods, a chance to break the monopolies of the older clans. He did not seek to crush them, but to partner with them, to make them the local distributors for the Golden Shell Guild's ever-expanding catalog of wares. By the end of the week, he had laid the foundations of a new, powerful commercial alliance, a network of grateful, loyal partners who would serve as the Guild's eyes and ears in this frozen city.
It was on the evening of the seventh day, as Li Yu, Cyra, and a deeply satisfied Fat Pig were enjoying a quiet meal in their inn, that the world shifted on its axis.
They were in the inn's private dining hall when a sudden, panicked commotion erupted from the city streets outside. The sound of running feet, of shouted, incredulous orders, and a strange, high-pitched wail of a city-wide alarm.
A moment later, a terrified-looking servant burst into their room, bowing hastily. "My Lords, my Lady! Urgent news! A disaster on the western front!"
They made their way to the main hall of the inn, which was already a buzzing hive of panicked merchants and off-duty soldiers, all clamoring for information. A high-ranking officer had just arrived from the front, his face pale, his armor still bearing the marks of a desperate battle.
"It was a trap!" he was saying, his voice a hoarse, disbelieving cry. "The Wraith General… he's dead! They ambushed him!"
Piece by agonizing piece, the story came out, assembled from the panicked fragments of a dozen different conversations. The Seventh Princess's forces, who had been in a fighting retreat, had suddenly turned the tables. They had lured the Third Prince's new, mysterious 6th-level expert, the Wraith General, into a carefully prepared kill zone in a narrow, ice-walled canyon.
Everyone had assumed it was a desperate, last-ditch effort. But the Princess had revealed her own, hidden trump card.
The Imperial Guardian, the legendary 7th-level Core Formation expert who had served her father, the man who had remained utterly neutral since the old Emperor's death, had appeared on the battlefield. He had not taken sides to conquer, but to protect. He had declared that the Third Prince's use of a second, unknown 6th-level expert was a threat to the stability of the empire.
He had not fought alone. The Princess's own sworn protector, her own 6th-level commander, had been there. The two of them, a 7th-level and a 6th-level expert, had ambushed the lone Wraith General. The battle had been short, brutal, and utterly decisive. The Third Prince's mysterious, hidden powerhouse had been slain.
The news was a thunderclap that shook the entire city to its core. The balance of power had not just been restored; it had been catastrophically upended. The Third Prince had lost one of his generals, his two allied sect leaders, and now, his most powerful hidden expert. The Seventh Princess, with the public backing of the legendary Imperial Guardian, was now the undisputed, overwhelming favorite to win the war.
Fat Pig's face was a mask of sober, calculating thought. "This… this changes everything," he muttered. "All of our deals were predicated on a long, protracted war. A swift victory for the Princess will reshape the entire market."
Li Yu was silent, his own mind processing the new information. He felt a quiet, detached respect for the Princess's cunning. She had played the part of the wounded animal perfectly, luring her brother's most dangerous piece into a perfect, inescapable trap.
It was in the midst of this chaotic, city-wide panic that a new, quiet presence appeared at their table. It was a soldier, clad in the simple, unadorned black armor of the Prince's personal guard. He was not looking at the panicked crowd. His eyes were fixed on Fat Pig.
He offered a deep, formal bow. "Vice Guild Master Zhu," he said and then passed over a sealed message from the 3rd prince. His Highness, the Third Prince, has requested an immediate, private audience. Not at the citadel. At a discreet location. He says it is a matter of the utmost urgency.