The courtyard was vast, a maze of secluded corridors and hidden corners. As we wound our way through, the woman in the purple dress finally broke the silence.
"Dad! You here?" she called out. "You've got a visitor!"
I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. Of course. I should have known. This was my long-lost cousin. A cousin whose name I didn't even know.
"Miss," I started, trying to sound polite. "I don't think I caught your name."
She turned, a playful smile on her face. "It's Yang Ziyan."
"Cousin Ziyan," I said, offering a respectful nod. "My apologies for being so forward earlier."
She just laughed, a light, airy sound that seemed to say she found this whole situation hilarious.
"Ziyan? What's going on?" A man's voice echoed from deeper within the courtyard. A moment later, a short, slender man in a green robe emerged.
"Dad, someone's here for you," Ziyan said, rushing to his side. "See if you recognize him."
The man—my uncle, apparently—walked toward me, his brow furrowed in concentration. He studied my face, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "You… you're from Feng Prefecture, aren't you? You're… Dao'er?"
Just two days ago, my father had sent him a letter, telling him I was on my way and asking for an introduction into the Blazing Flame Gang.
"Jiang Dao, at your service, Uncle," I said with a slight bow.
His face broke into a wide grin. "It really is you! Good kid. Look at you, all grown up. I haven't seen you in years!" He clapped me on the shoulder. "You've become a man. So, you want to join the Blazing Flame Gang?"
"Yes, sir. I was hoping for your recommendation."
"Well," he said, his expression turning serious, "the Gang takes on new blood every year, but if your skills aren't up to snuff, you're just another body in the line. A thug. How good are you, really?"
Before I could answer, Ziyan leaned in and whispered excitedly to her father. "Dad, he's incredible! We were ambushed by bandits on the road—hundreds of them. Their leader was that wanted killer, the one with the crazy beard and the nine-ringed saber. The guy our own masters couldn't touch? He killed him. Just like that."
My uncle's eyes went wide. "You mean the Bearded Butcher, Guo Biao? He's dead?"
"Dead is an understatement," Ziyan said, her eyes shining with the memory. "It was a massacre."
My uncle, Yang Xu, stared at me, a new light in his eyes. "Son, if you really have that kind of power, you're not just recruit material. You could be a Hall Master. But talk is cheap. How about you show me what you can do? Indulge an old man."
I knew what he was asking. It was an audition. "Of course," I nodded. "My training is… eclectic. Let's try a demonstration of grip strength."
My gaze scanned the courtyard and landed on a solid marble table. I walked over, my fingers moving in a blur, and plunged my hand into the stone. With a sickening crunch, I ripped a huge chunk out as if it were styrofoam.
But I wasn't finished.
I closed my hand, and the solid marble in my palm groaned and cracked under the pressure. It felt like I was grinding it against a millstone. When I opened my hand, all that was left was a pile of fine, white dust that cascaded to the ground.
I turned back to him. "Will something like that do?"
Yang Xu's jaw was on the floor. He looked like he'd just seen a ghost.
Turning stone to dust. With his bare hands. That wasn't just skill; that was the kind of power that took half a century to cultivate.
The shock on his face melted away, replaced by pure, unadulterated glee. He laughed, a booming, triumphant sound. "What a grip! Dao'er, with that kind of strength, your future in the Blazing Flame Gang is limitless! Come with me. We have important business to discuss. I think this is our lucky day."
His entire demeanor had changed. He was practically beaming as he led me toward his study.
"What about me, Dad?" Ziyan called after us.
"Go to your room and rest up," he waved dismissively.
A minute later, I was seated in a study that smelled of old books and expensive ink. Yang Xu was rubbing his hands together like a merchant who'd just closed the deal of a lifetime.
"Alright, Dao'er, let's be straight with each other," he said, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Just a few days ago, two of our Hall Masters were killed. Gang law says that in a situation like this, any core member can nominate a candidate for the empty seats. The final decision comes down to a tournament. The winner gets his pick of the two positions. With your skills… I'm putting your name in the hat. What do you say?"
My eyes lit up. This was more than I could have hoped for. I stood and bowed. "If you would do that for me, Uncle, I would be deeply grateful."
"Sit, sit! No need for all that," he said, waving me back into my chair. "But listen to me. In the tournament, blades don't have eyes. You have to be careful. The last thing we need is for you to get seriously hurt."
"I'll give it everything I have," I promised.
"Good. Then it's settled. You'll stay here with me, and I'll file your registration right now." He scurried over to his desk and began preparing the ink and paper.
I knew this wasn't just about me. He was playing an angle, and I didn't blame him. As the manager of the city's docks, he had influence, but within the Gang's hierarchy, he was a man without a patron. He had to bow and scrape to every petty officer who came along, living in constant fear that one wrong move could cost him everything.
But if he sponsored me, and I became a Hall Master? He would be under my protection. His status—and his safety—would skyrocket. It was a win-win.
He quickly finished the letter of recommendation. "Dao'er, I'll have a servant show you to your room. I need to get this to headquarters immediately. I have to say, your timing is impeccable. Today is the final day for nominations. Any later, and this opportunity would have been gone for good."
"Thank you for everything, Uncle."
He called a servant to lead me away while he rushed off, letter in hand, toward the Blazing Flame Gang headquarters.
The room he gave me was impressive—tastefully furnished, with its own maid and every comfort I could ask for. I settled in, waiting.
Yang Xu didn't return until dusk. When he did, he came straight to my room, a wide grin plastered on his face. "It's done, Dao'er. The letter is in. The tournament is in two days. I'll take you there myself."
"Thank you, Uncle."
"Listen," he said, his tone warm. "Your father and I grew up like brothers. So from now on, just call me Third Uncle. It's what everyone in the family calls me."
I hesitated for a beat, then nodded. "Alright. Thank you… Third Uncle."
He seemed pleased. "Good. Now, a quick primer on the Gang. We're the biggest power in the entire southern Daye Dynasty, with over twenty thousand enlisted members across six prefectures. The command structure is simple: Gang Leader, Deputy Leader, Left and Right Guardians, nine Hall Masters, and eighteen Stewards. The two open spots are for the Flying Eagle Hall and the Black Tiger Hall."
He leaned in closer. "The territories they control are vastly different. Flying Eagle Hall oversees the southwest district—that's where all the wealthy merchants live. It's a river of gold. Black Tiger Hall is stuck with the northeast, the slums. Nothing but poor laborers and mines. It's a dead end. You'll want to aim for the Flying Eagle Hall."
"I'll follow your lead, Third Uncle."
"One last thing," he added, his voice dropping. "I did some digging. There are ten other competitors. Two of them are absolute monsters. Word is they've both reached the Blood Boiling realm of cultivation—their power is off the charts. One is Fei Bin, 'The Wind and Thunder Palm.' The other is Luo Peng, 'The Iron Titan,' whose body is supposedly immune to weapons. When you face them, be careful."
"I will be," I said. Then, a thought struck me. "Third Uncle, you said the other Hall Masters were killed. How? With their power, who in this city would dare attack them?"
The smile vanished from Yang Xu's face. He sighed, and for the first time, I saw genuine fear in his eyes.
"It wasn't a who," he said gravely. "It was a what?"
My blood ran cold. Not a person? An evil spirit? A monster?
Or something worse?