The dim interior of the boy's humble shack enveloped Lin Xuan like a shroud, the air thick with the scent of herbal poultice and lingering traces of the crimson viper's venom now neutralized.
Flickering light from a single oil lamp cast long shadows across the clay walls, patched with odds and ends to fend off the night's chill.
In the corner, on a threadbare straw mat, the boy's mother lay in deep, restorative sleep. She appeared as any village woman weathered by hardship—mid-thirties, perhaps, with calloused hands folded over her chest and faint wrinkles etching the corners of her closed eyes, lines born from years of stress and unyielding toil. Her breathing came steady and deep, the swelling on her arm subsided to a faint discoloration, the anti-venom pill working its quiet miracle through her veins. Lin Xuan stood near the doorway, his tall frame a silent sentinel, obsidian eyes scanning the room with the precision of his assassin past.
The boy, still clenching his fists, hovered nearby, his earlier tears dried into streaks of grime on his cheeks. Gratitude radiated from him, wide eyes fixed on Lin Xuan with unbridled awe. He shifted from foot to foot, small hands fidgeting as if unsure how to contain the surge of emotion.
"Uncle, I... I don't know how to thank you enough," he stammered, voice hushed to not disturb his mother. "You saved her. She's resting peaceful now, like she hasn't in days. Whatever you need—anything at all—I'll do it. Sweep your floors, run errands, fight off beasts if I could. Just say the word."
Lin Xuan regarded him with a measured nod, his expression impassive yet not unkind. In his reincarnated life, he had learned to spot potential allies amid the chaos, and this boy's earnestness was a spark worth kindling.
His working code demanded protection for the vulnerable if he could, forging bonds that could bolster his clan's future. But sentiment had no place in the shadows of Ironcliff; information was the blade he needed now. He crouched to the boy's level, voice low and steady. "Your help starts with words, lad. Tell me what you know of the city's lord, Gao Wen."
The boy's face lit with eagerness, as if the request was a lifeline to repay his debt. He glanced at his sleeping mother, then pulled Lin Xuan closer to the wall, away from the mat. In a rapid whisper, the words tumbled out, fueled by the resentment simmering in the city's underbelly.
"Gao Wen? Oh, everyone knows him, Uncle, but not in a good way. The locals—the farmers, the beggars like me—they hate him fierce. He's squeezed the life outta the city, takin' what little we got. Taxes on every breath, they say. Makes the streets run with blood if you speak against him. But the shopkeepers? The guards? They love him like a fat purse. He lets 'em jack up prices sky-high—elixirs that should cost five coppers go for twenty, herbs triple what they're worth elsewhere. All 'cause they pay him extra 'taxes' for the city's 'contribution.' "
The boy continued — "Ha! Contribution to his belly and his guards' pockets, more like. Look around—roads full of potholes, walls crumblin', but his manor gleams like polished jade. It's all for him, Uncle. The whole city's rottin' from it."
Lin Xuan absorbed the details, his mind mapping the corruption like a assassin's blueprint. The state of Ironcliff confirmed it: crumbling infrastructure amid ostentatious guard posts, merchants' stalls bloated with overpriced wares while urchins starved in alleys.
Gao Wen's grip was ironclad, a web of greed that ensnared the powerful and crushed the weak. It aligned with the whispers he'd gathered since arriving— a lord who ruled through fear and favoritism, his tyranny a cancer Lin Xuan intended to excise for the sake of his people.
He pressed on, voice even. "Has Gao Wen been seen in public? Parades, markets? And if so, is he always surrounded by guards?"
The boy scrunched his brow, thinking hard, his small fingers twisting the hem of his tunic. He shook his head after a moment, regret flashing in his eyes. "I... I don't know, Uncle. Truly. He don't come to our parts much—stays holed up in that big manor on the hill, they say. I've heard tales of him ridin' through the upper districts, all pomp and banners, but never seen it myself. And guards? Probably, yeah—can't imagine him without a swarm of 'em. But I ain't got the details. Sorry."
Lin Xuan masked his disappointment; the boy was just a child, his world confined to the slums. No matter—indirect paths often led to the heart. He leaned in closer, his presence commanding yet reassuring. "One more thing. Is there a guard who works close to Gao Wen? Someone whose habits you might know—where he goes, when?"
The boy's eyes brightened again, a spark of local knowledge igniting. He nodded vigorously, voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. "Aye, Uncle! There's one—calls himself Captain Thorne, big brute with a scar across his cheek like a viper's bite. He's one of Gao Wen's favorites, struts around like he owns the place. Famous for it, too—tyrantish everywhere he goes. Beats folk for lookin' at him wrong, takes 'cuts' from the stalls. Visits the market every day 'round dusk, shakin' down vendors for his 'protection' fee. Then, come night, he heads to the Crimson Lotus brothel in the eastern quarter. Drinks himself stupid, picks fights, boasts about the lord's plans. Everyone knows his routine; he's too arrogant to hide it. If anyone's close to Gao Wen, it's him—always braggin' about privy meetings."
Lin Xuan's lips curved into a faint, predatory smile, invisible in the lamplight. Captain Thorne—a loose thread in Gao Wen's tapestry, ripe for pulling. The man's arrogance would be his undoing, a predictable pattern Lin Xuan could exploit with lethal efficiency.
His peak Qi Refining cultivation, augmented to mid-Foundation Establishment combat prowess, made such a target trivial. Extract information under duress, then strike the lord before dawn broke and alarms spread.
The night would be his ally, shadows his cloak. He rose smoothly, placing a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. "You've given me what I need, lad. This stays between us—your mother's life depends on silence."
The boy straightened, swelling with purpose, his earlier despair replaced by fierce determination. "I swear it, Uncle. Lips sealed tighter than a miser's pouch. If you need more—eyes on the streets, messages run—I'm your shadow. Gao Wen's poison's worse than any viper's; takin' him down... it'd save us all."
Lin Xuan nodded once, his obsidian eyes gleaming with resolve. "Rest now. Protect your mother. If the city changes, it'll be because of nights like this." He slipped toward the door, the boy's gaze following him with unwavering loyalty. Outside, the alley swallowed him whole, the moon's pale light guiding his steps back toward the city's heart.