Ba Sing Se.
From the outside, it was invincible.
Colossal walls of earth rose layer upon layer, each one meant to represent security, permanence, order. To most people, the city was a promise—that no matter how badly the world burned, this place would endure.
To me, it was a lie.
I entered through the Lower Ring without incident, dressed plainly, presence muted. No flight. No bending. Just another traveler swallowed by the city's endless sprawl. The air was thick with noise—vendors shouting, carts rattling, lives colliding without ever truly touching.
Perfect.
I had years before Aang returned. Years before history resumed its course. Rushing now would be foolish. Power alone didn't win wars—timing did.
And Ba Sing Se was a nexus.
Information.
Trade.
Population.
Corruption.
If the world was a board, this city was the largest piece on it.
As I walked, my Sharingan turned lazily, not scanning faces—but patterns. Coin purses worn thin from frequent use. Guards whose posture betrayed complacency. Merchants who skimmed just enough to never be noticed.
I didn't steal.
I redistributed.
A gentle pull here. A momentary lapse there. Money shifted hands without alarm, without awareness. No one noticed a loss small enough to be blamed on miscounting.
Within hours, I had more than enough to fund myself indefinitely.
Within days, I would have leverage.
Ba Sing Se's true weakness wasn't its walls.
It was its layers.
Each ring pretended the others didn't exist. The Lower Ring survived. The Middle Ring consumed. The Upper Ring decided. And between them all stood the Dai Li—keepers of "order," sculptors of truth.
I observed quietly.
Listened.
I learned which gangs controlled which streets, which officials took bribes from whom, which businesses existed only to launder influence upward. I learned how rumors moved faster than messengers and how silence could be purchased just as easily as loyalty.
An army?
Perhaps.
But not yet.
Soldiers were expensive. Obvious. Disposable.
What I needed first were roots.
I rented a modest room. Established a small trading operation—nothing illegal, nothing flashy. Just useful. Medicine. Information. Conflict resolution. People remembered help far longer than fear.
At night, I planned.
Ba Sing Se didn't need to fall.
It needed to lean.
Lean in my direction.
Somewhere deep within the city, Long Feng pulled strings, convinced he was the spider at the center of the web.
He wasn't wrong.
He just wasn't alone.
I smiled faintly as I looked out over the Lower Ring, the city lights flickering like stars trapped behind stone.
This place had secrets.
And soon—
They would be mine.