The moon hung low over Red Blossom, its pale glow smothered by the city's ever-present smog. The alchemist's hurried footsteps echoed faintly in the narrow streets, his head darting left and right like a frightened animal. He clutched a small chest to his chest, his grip so tight it seemed he feared it might vanish into thin air.
Scarface's smirk widened as he observed the man's skittish movements. "Look at him. He's practically asking to be robbed."
Yao Qin followed silently, his eyes fixed on their target. They pick men like this on purpose—nervous, replaceable. The Tang don't waste good material on small jobs. His fingers flexed absently, his mind already several steps ahead. This alchemist wasn't the prize. The prize lay behind whatever door he was heading to.
"Keep up, redhead," Scarface said, throwing him a glance. "Don't tell me you're scared."
"I don't freeze," Yao Qin replied flatly, his tone devoid of any warmth.
Scarface's grin widened, but there was a flicker of something else in his gaze—approval, perhaps. "Good. You'll need that attitude."
Han Wei walked slightly ahead, his shoulders hunched. He kept glancing over at Yao Qin, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered. "If we get caught…"
Yao Qin's gaze didn't waver. "We won't."
His tone offered no reassurance, but Han Wei said nothing more. Scarface chuckled quietly, clearly enjoying the tension.
As they trailed the alchemist through Red Blossom's crumbling streets, the city nightlife came alive around them. The fighting pits roared with the sound of combat—cheers, jeers, and the sickening thuds of fists meeting flesh. Merchants shouted from their stalls, hawking everything from stale bread to stolen trinkets. A group of shackled slaves shuffled past, their hollow eyes fixed on the ground as a guard barked orders.
Yao Qin's gaze lingered briefly on the slaves before moving on. Not so different from the Black Phantom Cult, he thought. Obedience or death.
They passed the ominous gates of the Dark Mountain faction's stronghold, where two towering guards stood watch. Their helms, fashioned from the skulls of beasts, gleamed faintly in the dim light. The jagged iron gates bore the faction's blood-red insignia, a mark of their growing power in Red Blossom.
"Think they're compensating for something?" Scarface muttered, smirking as they passed.
Han Wei shot him a glare but kept quiet. Yao Qin, however, studied the guards intently. They'll carve up Red Blossom piece by piece unless someone stops them. And Red Dawn's bastards are too busy clinging to their crumbling legacy to see it coming.
Finally, the alchemist turned into a narrow alley, his pace quickening as he neared his destination. Smoke curled lazily from the chimneys of the Tang factory ahead, carrying the acrid scent of herbs and chemicals. The factory's brick facade was marked with the coiled serpent insignia of the Tang family, a symbol of power and precision, known throughout the continent. From Imperial Capital of Bright Sword in the West, to the Nomadic Wastes of the East. From the Dragon Worshipers of the North, to the Black Harbour Pirates in the South. The purple eyed Snake of the Tang is known to all. Whether it be their poison, alchemy, or healing arts – the Tang name seemed to worm its way into every corner of the land.
Scarface gestured for them to stop as the alchemist approached the side entrance. The man exchanged hurried words with a guard, who nodded and stepped aside to let him in. The heavy door creaked shut behind him, leaving the group crouched in the shadows.
Scarface turned to Yao Qin, his grin sharp. "You're up, redhead. Don't make me regret bringing you along."
Yao Qin moved to the door without a word, retrieving a set of crude tools from his cloak. The lock was solid, well-made, but it didn't faze him. His fingers worked quickly, the faint clicks of tumblers shifting into place blending with the muffled sounds of the factory beyond.
Han Wei leaned in close, his voice barely a whisper. "Are you want to do this Yao Qin? If they catch us…"
"They won't," Yao Qin said, his tone calm but firm. And if they do, they'll catch me! The memory of their heist's failure in his past life loomed over him like a spectre, "caught by a cockroach" – as Scarface put it.
The lock yielded with a soft click, and Yao Qin pushed the door open just enough for them to slip inside. Po Luoyang's training wasn't entirely useless, his lip twisting viciously at the thought of the man.
The factory smelled the same—sharp and acrid, a blend of boiling chemicals and drying herbs that clung to Yao Qin's senses like a ghost from his past. It was a scent he couldn't forget, no matter how many years had passed. This was the night everything had gone wrong.
Workers moved between tables just as they had then, their gaunt faces lit by the weak glow of flickering lanterns. The rhythm of grinding powders, pouring liquids, and the faint clinking of glass was as familiar as a heartbeat. The guards paced in a slow, methodical patrol, their spears resting lightly on their shoulders.
Yao Qin's dangerous eyes flicked toward Scarface, who stood relaxed, his grin sharp as ever. Yao Qin beathed deeply, fists clenching at his sides. You don't know what's coming.
Scarface's gaze swept the room like a predator surveying its prey. "Look at them," he whispered, gesturing to the workers. "Busy little bees, making honey for the Tang. Shame they don't know we're about to burn their hive."
Yao Qin's lips twitched into a faint, humourless smirk. "They wouldn't believe it even if we told them."
Scarface chuckled, his grin widening. "That's what I like about you, redhead. You've got bite." His tone shifted, turning sharper. "Now keep up. Don't make me regret bringing you."
Han Wei trailed slightly behind, his steps quiet and deliberate. His eyes were sharp, scanning for trouble. "We'll need to be quick once we hit the storage room."
"Always the strategist," Scarface muttered, his grin sharpened mocking. "That's why we keep you around, Han Wei."
Han Wei ignored his taunt, his gaze flicking to Yao Qin. "Stay close. Don't take unnecessary risks."
"I don't need babysitting," Yao Qin replied evenly, though his eyes softened briefly. You're trying to protect me, he thought as his jaw clenched, poor bastard.
As they weaved through the worktables, one of the guards stopped suddenly, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room. His grip tightened on his spear, his posture stiffening.
Scarface froze, his grin vanishing in an instant. "Trouble," he muttered.
The guard's footsteps grew louder as he approached, his voice sharp. "Who's there?"
Han Wei's hand went to the hilt of his dagger, his movements fluid and controlled. Yao Qin focused, his body coiling like a spring. The first death of the night.
But Scarface moved first. He stepped forward with unsettling calm, his hand snapping out like a viper. The guard barely had time to react before Scarface's grip closed around his throat, lifting him off the ground with ease. The man's spear dropped to the floor as he clawed at Scarface's wrist, his face turning purple.
Yao Qin pounced with both hands, grasping the spear before it clattered upon the ground. A wave of relief washed over him, the muscles in his neck and spine eased up, the little cockroach won't be causing a calamity this time. A smile of relief couldn't help break across his face.
The room seemed to still as Scarface's Qi flared—a sudden, overwhelming force that rippled through the air. Yao Qin felt it press against his chest, heavy and suffocating, like the weight of an unseen hand. Han Wei's shuddered, his jaw tightening as he glanced toward the workers.
The workers, bent over their tasks, stiffened as though sensing the shift, but none dared look up. Their movements quickened, their hands flying faster over their work as if to escape the oppressive weight in the air – perhaps terrified a Tang family member had showed up to cause trouble again.
Scarface grinned, his teeth flashing like a wolf's. "You should've stayed at your post."
With a sickening crunch, he crushed the guard's throat, tossing the body to Han Wei, who just about managed to catch the corpse. He wiped his hands on his cloak, his grin returning as he turned to the others. "Cockroaches everywhere."
Han Wei stood there sombrely, carrying the dead man with his face fully flushed, "You didn't need to kill him. We could've avoided that."
Scarface tilted his head, his grin widening. "And miss the fun? Relax, Wei. It's just one body."
Han Wei's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Yao Qin, however, didn't flinch. In fact – he was almost frozen. His dangerous eyes met Scarface's briefly before dropping to the corpse. The face. The face is different. He was certain of it, All those years ago – now. It wasn't him. Yao Qin's heart started to beat, his sense of relaxation vanished. The sands of time had started to shift.
The oppressive weight of Scarface's Qi lingered as they slipped past the workers, their movements quieter now, especially after stowing the corpse away. The workers, rattled by the air of violence, kept their heads down, their focus sharper than before. Yao Qin's mind raced as he pieced together the layout of the factory.
Storage room at the back, guarded by more than one lock. Two guards on patrol. One's dead. That leaves the bellman, the one who raised the alarm… His thoughts cut off as they neared the curtain separating the main floor from the storage area. The faint glow of firelight spilled from beneath it, just as he remembered.
Scarface stopped, motioning for Yao Qin to take the lead. "Redhead. Your turn."
Yao Qin moved to the curtain, his ears straining for any sound beyond it. The memory of his first life clawed at the edges of his thoughts, sharp and unrelenting. This was where it had gone wrong before - where they were cornered by a the guards.
Han Wei's voice broke through the stillness, putting his hand on Yao Qin's shoulder. "Let's do this fast. In and out, no risks."
Yao Qin glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "I know," he said quietly. Gods, let this time have changed.
"Get to work," Scarface said, his voice low but commanding. "We don't have all night."
The storage room was a treasure trove of shimmering vials, neatly labelled jars, and ornate boxes. The faint scent of dried herbs and alchemical compounds hung in the air, almost masking the underlying tang of blood that clung to Yao Qin's senses.
Scarface's grin widened as he gestured at the shelves. "All right, boys, let's make it worth our time. Grab what you can carry. Leave the junk."
Han Wei moved cautiously, his eyes scanning the room for traps or signs of movement. His hand brushed against Yao Qin's shoulder as he passed. "Stay close. Don't get distracted."
Yao Qin gave a slight nod, but his attention was already elsewhere. He stepped toward a shelf lined with small, lacquered boxes, his dangerous eyes narrowing as he scanned the labels. This is where it went wrong last time, he thought.
His fingers hesitated over a box with a crimson dragon etched into the wood. The label was faded, but the words were clear enough for someone who'd lived through this before: Crimson Vitality Pill.
Perfect for body cultivation. Strength, endurance, and recovery, he recalled. Scarface missed this last time. Too busy grabbing bulk supplies.
He slipped the box into his cloak with practiced ease, careful not to make a sound. The faint rustling of fabric was drowned out by the others' movements.
Further down the shelf, his eyes landed on a container sealed with a wax stamp bearing the Tang insignia. He recognized it instantly: Earth-Forged Essence Pill. A high-grade pill meant for body cultivators on the brink of a breakthrough.
This one's dangerous, he thought, his mind flashing back to his first life. I can't use it yet—not until I've advanced further. But when the time comes...
He tucked it away alongside the Crimson Vitality Pill, his lips twitching into a faint smile. The memories of his past mistakes were bittersweet, but they fuelled his resolve. Not this time. This time, I'll survive.
His hand brushed against a jade box set apart from the others. The craftsmanship alone marked it as valuable, but the faint hum of energy emanating from within confirmed its importance. He flipped open the lid just enough to glimpse the shimmering blue pill inside: Azure Spirit Core.
Yao Qin's heart quickened. This was no ordinary Qi-enhancing pill—it was rare even by Tang standards, capable of accelerating cultivation at an astonishing rate. Scarface won't know what this is, he thought. He's too focused on brute strength.
He slipped it into his cloak, the jade box fitting snugly alongside the others. His fingers lingered briefly on the edge of the shelf, his thoughts swirling. Each of these pills could change the course of my life. If I can survive this night.
Scarface's voice broke through his focus. "Hurry it up, redhead. We're not here to window shop."
Yao Qin turned to see Scarface rummaging through a crate filled with vials of bright green liquid. "Tang's poison concoctions," Scarface said with a smirk, holding one up to the light. "Useful in the right hands."
Han Wei's brow furrowed as he glanced toward Yao Qin. "We should stick to essentials. Medicines, Qi pills. No point taking risks with unknown poisons."
Scarface laughed, the sound harsh and grating. "Risks are what make life interesting, Wei. You'd do well to remember that."
Yao Qin said nothing, his gaze returning to the shelves. Scarface's overconfidence grated on him, but he knew better than to challenge it openly. Let him take his poisons. If he poisoned half the city, it'd probably be better off for it.
As they continued gathering supplies, Yao Qin's dangerous eyes flicked to the door. The faint scrape of a boot against stone reached his ears - too faint for Scarface or Han Wei to notice, but unmistakable to someone who had lived this moment before.
His stomach tightened. "Shit." He whispered. No alarm. Body hidden. But they're already here.
The storage room's oppressive silence was broken by the faint sound of footsteps - too deliberate to belong to workers. Yao Qin's dangerous eyes flicked toward the door. Shadows danced beneath the crack, their movement purposeful.
"They've noticed," he murmured, his voice low and steady.
Scarface tilted his head, his grin sharp and unbothered. "Finally. I was wondering when the real fun would start."
"Idiot," Yao Qin muttered under his breath, his contempt barely veiled. Scarface's recklessness aggravated him, but he knew better than to voice his frustration outright. "If they're here, they're not alone."
As if on cue, the door burst open with a deafening crash. Three guards stormed in, their weapons glinting in the dim light. But it was the man behind them who made the air grow heavy. Draped in crimson and gold, the Tang family member's presence was as suffocating as his Qi, which rippled out in waves of raw power. His sharp, calculating eyes scanned the room, landing on the group with cold precision.
"You've made a grave mistake," the Tang family member growled, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "Drop what you've taken and surrender, or you'll leave here in pieces."
Scarface's grin widened, his Qi flaring in response. "Surrender? To a bunch of second-rate alchemists' lackeys? Don't make me laugh."
Han Wei moved closer to Yao Qin, his voice barely above a whisper. "We need a way out. Now."
The Tang family member snorted. With a flick of his wrist, a wave of crimson Qi surged forward, smashing into the crates around Scarface and sending shards of wood flying. Scarface sidestepped the blast, his laughter ringing out as he launched forward, his fist colliding with the Tang member's raised arm.
The impact reverberated through the room, the sheer force of their clash sending shockwaves that toppled nearby shelves. Vials shattered, spilling volatile liquids onto the floor.
"Han Wei, with me," Yao Qin hissed, his voice sharp. He grabbed a nearby vial labelled Ignition Compound, his dangerous eyes darting to the shelves still intact. We're not fighting our way out of this - not with him here.
Han Wei nodded, his movements quick and controlled. Together, they began grabbing vials, Yao Qin's sharp mind racing as he pieced together the chaos unfolding around them. The Tang guards lunged, but Han Wei intercepted one, his dagger flashing as he struck the man's leg, sending him crumpling to the ground.
Scarface roared as his fist met the Tang member's shoulder, only to be countered by a devastating palm strike that sent him crashing into the wall. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, but his grin didn't waver. "Not bad," he spat, rising to his feet. "Let's see how you handle this."
Before he could charge Yao Qin hurled the Ignition Compound toward the far wall. The vial shattered, flames roaring to life and spreading with terrifying speed as they consumed the spilled chemicals and dry wooden crates. Smoke billowed into the air, thick and choking, obscuring vision and filling the room with chaos.
The guards recoiled as they were set aflame! Retreating from the room, they flung themselves about to stop the pain! The Tang member's eyes narrowed as he raised a hand, his Qi forming a shimmering barrier to shield himself from the encroaching flames.
"Move!" Yao Qin shouted, grabbing Han Wei's arm and pulling him toward the exit with a few dozen potions, pills and other Tang goods strapped to their person.
But Scarface didn't flee. Instead, he launched himself at the Tang family member with a feral roar, his Qi blazing as he closed the distance in an instant. His fist collided with the Tang member's barrier, shattering it in a burst of energy that sent shockwaves through the room.
The Tang member countered, his sabre slashing across Scarface's arm. Blood sprayed, his arm turning a purplish-black as the substance on the Tang sabre infected him, but Scarface only laughed - a wild, unhinged sound that echoed above the crackling flames. "You think this will stop me?" he bellowed.
The fire spread, licking at Scarface's chemical stained clothes and igniting them in an instant. His skin blistered, the scent of burning flesh filling the air, but he didn't falter. Instead, he let out a blood-curdling scream, a berserker howl that sent a chill down Yao Qin's spine.
Scarface's Qi surged as he grabbed his own poisoned arm, tearing it from his shoulder with raw, brutal force. Blood poured from the wound, but his remaining hand glowed with concentrated energy. "You'll need more than poison to kill me!" he roared.
The Tang member hesitated for the first time, his eyes flicking to the severed arm with a mix of disgust and unease. "You're insane."
Scarface grinned, his teeth bared in a savage snarl. "Insane enough to kill you."
The two clashed again, the fire casting flickering shadows across their faces. Scarface's strikes were wild and furious, each one landing with enough force to shake the ground. The Tang member's blade flashed, cutting through the smoke, but Scarface seemed unstoppable—fuelled by pain, rage, and a burning desire to destroy.
Yao Qin stumbled in his flight, his mind racing as the flames consumed the factory. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't here last time. Why is everything changing?
Han Wei tightened his grip on Yao Qin's arm, dragging him forward. "Focus, Qin! We're not dying yet."
They burst into the alley outside the factory, coughing and gasping for air. Smoke curled into the night sky, carrying the bitter stench of burning chemicals. Yao Qin leaned against the wall, his chest heaving as he turned back to the factory.
Through the haze, he caught a final glimpse of Scarface, his body ablaze, his laughter echoing like a spectre's wail. The Tang member's sabre slashed downward, and Scarface's remaining hand shot up to block it, the force of their clash sending sparks flying.
Han Wei pulled Yao Qin further into the shadows. "Come on. We're not safe yet."
Reluctantly, Yao Qin turned, his dangerous eyes narrowing as he disappeared into the darkness. If Scarface survives… blame will be delt. If he doesn't, the game changes.
The factory burned behind them, a towering inferno that lit the streets of Red Blossom with its fiery glow. The screams of workers and guards filled the air as the flames consumed everything in their wake.