(At the Same time, somewhere in the Slums outside Golden Prosperity City.)
Mo Tian sat in a worn wooden chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the table as he studied the parchment before him. Faint rays of morning light streamed through the window, illuminating the careful lines and notes he had meticulously crafted, a roadmap of deception and inevitability. His clothes were still damp with the chill of the night, the scent of blood, sweat and alley dust clinging to him, but his mind remained sharp. He was calculating, refining, ensuring that every thread of his plan would weave the outcome he desired.
However he was confused at the moment. He had killed 2 young masters of the Jian Family. Additionally, the elders of these youngsters were war maniacs. The massacre he performed should have been enough. Unlike before, he killed people who were direct family members of the noble family. Under normal circumstances, this would have already lead to an all-out war. But that did not happen. It seems that something has put a hamper on his plan again.
"Hmmm… what can I do to make this conflict escalate even further?" thought Mo Tian to himself.
He sat alone in the dimly lit room, his fingers idly tapping against the wooden desk as his mind churned with possibilities. Then, like a spark igniting dry tinder, inspiration struck. Mo Tian's lips curled into a slow, knowing grin. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he leaned forward, sketching out the next move, a scheme so precise and ruthless that the already smoldering tensions between the families would erupt into an uncontrollable inferno.
…
(3 Days Later, In the morning. Somewhere in Golden Prosperity City.)
Mo Tian worked in silence, his movements careful, deliberate. He acquired information about the place where the family heads were going to be holding their next meeting through his information network.
Then, He had spent days studying the restaurant's routines, memorizing the flow of service, the exact timing of when the food was prepared and when it would be sent out. Additionally, he also looked into who was going to be serving the family heads that day according to the schedule.
When everything was ready, he went to the house of one of the waiters. He quickly sneaked into the house through an open window. After finding the room belonging to the waiter, he left a letter and sneaked out.
A few hours later, the waiter woke up and saw the letter while dressing for work. The letter was written with deliberate care, each stroke of the brush smooth and precise, yet the words carried a weight that made the waiter's hands tremble as he read.
"
To the one who values his family,
Your mother wakes before dawn every day, stepping outside to sweep the front of her small shop. Your little sister, Lian'er, hums as she fetches water from the well, her steps light, unaware of the dangers that lurk in the shadows. They are safe. For now.
But safety is fragile. A single misstep, a single failure on your part, and it shatters. Imagine your mother opening her doors to find only silence where laughter should be. Imagine your sister's absence stretching into an unbearable void, her fate unknown, lost to the world.
You have a simple task. When you serve the Zheng Family Head, you will slip a needle in his neck. It is quick, clean, unnoticed. He will not suspect. He will not survive. If you hesitate, if you falter, then know this: your failure will not be your own burden to bear. It will be theirs.
You do not need to reply. There are eyes on you already. Do what must be done.
- Jian.
"
The waiter's grip tightened around the parchment, his breath unsteady. He looked up, his mind racing. No reply was needed, yet he knew, this was not a choice. It was an order. And if he did not obey, the cost would be paid in blood. He put the poisonous needle in his pocket and left for the restaurant.
Seeing the determined face on the waiter. Mo Tian was satisfied and left when he knew his plan would work.
…
(3 days later, just before the meeting in a restaurant in Golden Prosperity City.)
Now, in the dimly lit storeroom behind the kitchen, Mo Tian moved with practiced precision.
A small vial of energy-dispersing poison rested in his palm, its liquid dark and thick like congealed ink. He removed the stopper and dipped the tip of a brush into it, sweeping it lightly across the surface of the steaming dishes meant for the Jian Family. The poison had no scent, no taste, dissolving seamlessly into the rich aroma of the cuisine. One bite would be enough to shatter the cultivators' ability to channel their inner energy, rendering them helpless when the time came.
For the Jing Family's drink, he used something far deadlier. A snake venom, extracted from a rare breed he had procured through careful planning. Unlike the first poison, this one did not need to be subtle. It was swift and merciless, once consumed, it would seize the body in a deadly paralysis, shutting down the heart within moments. He uncorked another vial, tilting it carefully over the jug of wine. A thin, clear stream flowed in, mixing seamlessly with the drink. No change in color, no shift in fragrance. Death disguised as hospitality.
As he finished, he stepped back, exhaling softly. His work was done. Now, all he needed was patience. The waiters, unknowing and unsuspecting, would deliver the death he had so carefully prepared. And with that done…
Mo Tian stop gave a sinister smile and left the restaurant unnoticed.
...
(3 Days later, in a restaurant in Golden Prosperity City.)
The air in the grand hall was thick with tension, the silence stretching between the three men like a drawn blade. At the center of the chamber, a large table separated them, but the distance did nothing to cool their tempers.
Zheng Renshu's fingers tapped impatiently against the armrest of his chair. His expression was dark, his voice heavy with accusation. "Two of your Jian brats are dead, and in the same breath, several young masters from my family disappeared. Tell me, Jian Xuan, should I take that as mere coincidence?"
Jian Xuan's eyes narrowed. His back was straight, his hands folded before him, but his gaze was sharp. "You make it sound as if my family struck first. My family members were butchered in the streets, and your people expect me to believe you had nothing to do with it?"
Jing Zhenlong scoffed, his arms crossed, impatience flickering in his expression. "If I had ordered an attack, you wouldn't be sitting here questioning me. But what about you, Jian Xuan? Your family has always had warmongers eager to draw blood. A little retaliation to soothe their wounded pride wouldn't be out of character."
Jian Xuan's expression remained unreadable, but his tone hardened. "You should choose your words carefully, Jing Zhenlong. Or are you saying my family's loss is nothing compared to yours?"
Zheng Renshu leaned forward, his voice like a low growl. "Enough. We are all thinking the same thing. Someone is trying to pit us against one another. But until proof surfaces, I will not sit idly while my family is targeted." His gaze flicked between the two. "If either of you had a hand in this, know that I will repay it in full."
Jing Zhenlong let out a short, humorless laugh. "Bold words, coming from someone whose own house is in chaos. I should be asking, how do we know this isn't a scheme of yours? A few lost sons in exchange for the perfect excuse to strike?"
The room fell into silence. Each man studied the others, searching for weakness, for a tell, but there was nothing. Only a deepening distrust that clung to the air like an unshakable shadow.
Only a deepening distrust clung to the air like an unshakable shadow.
The heavy silence was broken by the soft creak of the doors swinging open as three waiters entered, each carrying a tray laden with fine dishes and fragrant wine. With practiced precision, they set the plates before each family head, their movements smooth and unassuming, as if they were unaware of the storm brewing between the three men. Steam rose from the dishes, the rich aroma of spiced meat and delicate herbs filling the air, masking the danger that lurked beneath.
Jian Xuan lifted his chopsticks, only for his brows to furrow slightly as a strange sensation prickled at his fingertips. The first bite sent a nearly imperceptible wave of weakness through his limbs, his internal energy feeling sluggish, unresponsive. Across the table, Jing Zhenlong reached for his cup, swirling the deep crimson wine before taking a slow sip, oblivious to the faint bitterness beneath its smooth taste, a venom so insidious it would wait until the perfect moment to strike.
But before anyone could react to their afflictions, a flash of silver streaked toward Zheng Renshu's neck. A waiter lunged, a needle glinting in his grip, aimed for the city lord's throat with chilling precision.
Zheng Renshu barely had time to react. A sharp sting bit into his neck. It was a needle, small but deadly, its poison already seeping into his veins. His instincts roared to life. With a burst of energy, his hand shot forward, seizing the waiter's wrist before he could retreat. With a brutal twist, bones snapped, and a cry of pain filled the air. Zheng Renshu didn't hesitate, his other hand drove straight through the waiter's chest like a spear, fingers crushing bone and flesh before ripping back, leaving a gaping wound where life had once been.
The dying assassin crumpled to the floor, blood pooling beneath him, but Zheng Renshu didn't stay to watch. His vision blurred slightly, whether from the poison or the sheer fury burning within him, he didn't know. He staggered back, overturning his chair, and without another word, he stormed out of the restaurant, his guards scrambling to follow. The world outside felt distant, drowned out by the single thought pounding in his head.
This was no mere assassination attempt. This was war.
As the news spread, the city trembled. The Jian Family's young masters had been slaughtered in the night. The elders, blinded by vengeance, had answered with blood. Now, poison had seeped into the highest seats of power, and an open attack had been made on the Zheng Family's head. There was no more room for suspicion. No more need for accusations.
Before the sun had even set, soldiers marched into the streets, banners unfurled, blades unsheathed. The balance had shattered. The ceasefire was dead.
The war had begun.
{End of the Arc 1: The End, The Beginning and The Pursuit}