Dawn came cold and grey.
Kael woke up before the others, his internal clock accurate despite the strange room. His body still hurt—the broken ribs healed slowly, the pilfered cultivation still smoldering through his meridians. But the pressure had eased a little.
Four contracts yesterday had given him room to breathe.
Thirty-six more to go.
He watched the warehouse in early daylight. Fifteen visible gang members, already patterns developing. The guy next to the eastern wall scratched his arm repeatedly—addict, likely lotus smoke. The woman honing knives kept looking over at Boss Feng's corner—attraction or ambition, either one leverage. Two guys in the rear whispered about money owed—debt, always a good thing.
Chen Wei moved, sighing. "It's hardly dawn."
"We're wasting daylight." Kael rose to his feet, forcing his body to comply despite its complaining. "You owed me three introductions. Begin with the gambler."
"I didn't—" Chen Wei halted in mid-sentence as the contract closed around his chest. The words had attempted to come but failed. In the frame of their bargain, he had promised. Reality held him to it.
"Fine," Chen Wei grumbled. "There's a dice game tonight. Underground, goes till someone runs out of money. Players are a regular man named Liu Shen. He's. addicted. Lost his shop three months ago. Now he's wagering his daughter's dowry."
Kael made a mental note. "His daughter—is she in on it?"
"No. He's been lying to her, telling her that the shop's doing poorly. She thinks they're just struggling."
"Good. Shame, desperation, and a secret. Combination perfect." Kael motioned. "Bring me to see the location now. I have to know the space before tonight."
They exited the warehouse as the gang was waking. Outside, the outer district was already buzzing—merchants establishing stalls, laborers traveling to whatever work kept them afloat, beggars positioning themselves in key corners. The sect's morning bell echoed in the distance, signaling dawn prayers.
Kael ignored it. He was out of that world now.
Chen Wei took him through progressively thin streets until they came to a building that resembled nothing so much as a ruin. Shattered windows, crumbling facade, city watch postings stating it was condemned.
"Through the rear," Chen Wei explained. "Down two floors. There's a room below the foundation. No official knows about it."
"Who controls the game?"
"Man called Snake Eyes. Solo operator. Pays Iron Fist a fee to operate in their territory. Feng puts up with him because he's lucrative and not a problem."
Kael examined the building's facade, plotting avenues of escape, lines of sight, structural vulnerabilities. Knowledge was life. "And Liu Shen will be there tonight?"
"Always is. Can't resist himself."
They lingered through the morning, watching from the other side of the street. Kael tallied seventeen individuals passing through the hidden rear entrance, each sporting the characteristic attitude of regular gamblers—jittery tension, practiced nonchalance, the specific urgency of individuals on the hunt for losses.
By noon, Kael had a full understanding. He let Chen Wei lead him back to the warehouse, where Boss Feng was presiding over some quarrel between gang members.
"You," Feng shouted, seeing Kael. "Deserter. You're meant to be earning your keep. What have you accomplished?"
Kael walked confidently forward. "I've found three prospects for the Brotherhood to increase profits with minimal risk."
The warehouse fell silent. Even the arguers ceased their arguing.
"Brash assertion," Feng remarked. "Tell me."
"First: There's a gamehouse in your domain. Snake Eyes enterprise, two floors under the razed building on Copper Street. He gives you a commission, but you're shortchanging. His enterprise has seventeen steady players, average bet size is fifty silver per evening according to traffic flow. He's paying you what—ten silver per week?"
Feng did not shift expression, but Kael noticed the faint tightening of his shoulders. He'd been correct.
"It's supposed to be at least thirty silver a week. Renegotiate, or I can offer suggestions for promoting cooperation."
"Second?"
"The patrol route through the northern docks shifts every third day at noon. You're smuggling while they have their poorest coverage, but you're off the best window by two hours. Move your operations earlier, you cut risk by about forty percent."
Feng slightly leaned forward. "How do you know the patrol schedule?"
"I was outer sect. Outer sect disciples are responsible for administrative tasks such as city watch coordination. I did those reports for three years." Kael's voice didn't change, remained level, reporting. "The schedule is a pattern. Once you recognize it, it's predictable."
"And third?"
"Elder Greaves is skimming from seized contraband. He steals one thing in five before official record. If you knew what he'd stolen, you could blackmail him or sell the news to his competitors within the sect. Either way, lucrative."
The warehouse was utterly still now.
Boss Feng glared at Kael for a very long time. Then he smiled—not warmly, but with the regard of someone appreciating value.
"You're not merely a deserter. You're intelligent." Feng waved to one of his lieutenants. "Provide him with a working budget. Small, until he demonstrates these opportunities are real. But sufficient to function."
The lieutenant frowned but handed over twenty silver pieces to Kael.
"Thank you," said Kael. "Results in three days."
He started to walk away, but Feng's voice halted him.
"One question, deserter. What's your name? I don't do business with nameless people."
Lying was something Kael considered. Decided against. Lies took work. "Kael. Kael Yuan."
A few gang members looked at one another. The name was nothing to most of them, but one—a older woman in the corner—went very still.
"Kael Yuan," she said softly. "The one they executed yesterday?"
The tension in the warehouse changed at once. Hands crept toward weapons.
Kael did not move. "The execution didn't take. Obviously."
"There was something that occurred. That the platform had collapsed. That Elder Shen was hurt." The woman moved forward. Her face was marred, one eye opaque. "They are saying a devil cultivator attacked."
"Then the rumors are true to some extent." Kael looked at her directly. "I am not a devil cultivator. But something did occur. And yes, I am alive. That is why I am here rather than dead."
Boss Feng halted his guards with a raised hand. "What exactly occurred?"
"I negotiated. I don't need to explain the particulars. What's important: the sect wants me killed, the Chain Order is likely chasing me, and I require protection as I settle. In return, I provide my abilities."
"Abilities such as being aware of patrol routes and identifying opportunities for profit."
"Among others."
Feng thought about it. The tension hung there. At last: "You can stay. But give us any grief, bring any hunters on us, and I'll personally turn you in. Understood?"
"Understood."
The tension dissipated incrementally. Gang members went back to what they were doing, although Kael could sense their eyes on him more warily now. Being recognized was risky. But concealing his identity had been impossible once someone knew his name.
Good to direct the story himself rather than have rumors do so.
Chen Wei waited until they were safely back in their corner before he said anything. "You just announced to them that you're the most wanted man in the sect. That's crazy."
"No. Calculated risk. Lying would have been found out sooner or later. Better to own up now, spin it how I want, and show value before they conclude I'm too risky to keep." Kael settled on his bedroll. "Besides, Boss Feng is practical. As long as I'm of use, he'll keep me safe. Usefulness is my armor."
"And when you're no longer useful?"
"Then I'll already have enough contracts to cover myself." Kael drew out the twenty silver pieces, counting them carefully. "Tonight we go to the gambling den. I must speak with Liu Shen."
"Why? What are you doing?"
"To give him just what he desires: another chance to recoup all that he's lost. And in return, he'll provide me with just what I require."
"Which is?"
"His service. His contacts. And his daughter's bride price." Kael's face was still. "He'll thank me for the chance."
Chen Wei glared at him. "You're going to destroy him."
"He's already destroyed. I'm just making it profitable." Kael settled in, his eyes closing. "Wake me two hours before the sun sets. I need to save energy."
Chen Wei didn't respond. He just sat there, looking at the twenty silver coins in Kael's hand, at the black marks pulsing on his wrist, at the complete absence of guilt or hesitation in his expression.
"What happened to you?" Chen Wei whispered.
But Kael was already asleep, or pretending to be.
And in his dreams, if he had any, another memory unraveled. This time, a childhood friend. Someone who'd eaten with him when he was starving.
The friend's name had already disappeared. Soon, the memory of his generosity would too.
The cost was paid automatically, invisibly, effectively.
Just like everything else Kael Yuan was turning into.