For an entire month, a suffocating, oppressive gloom had settled over the sprawling pavilions of the Peng Estate.
The once-bustling courtyards, usually filled with the shouts of merchants and the heavy thud of loaded wooden crates, had grown eerily quiet. The massive iron gates that used to welcome dozens of supply caravans a day were now mostly shut. Inside the grand study, Patriarch Peng Kai sat behind his heavy mahogany desk, his eyes bloodshot as he stared at the financial ledgers.
The ink on the pages was a violent, bleeding red.
Without the Jin Clan purchasing their raw stock, and with the Tang Clan aggressively capturing their independent buyers with superior Jin-backed herbs, the Peng Clan's treasury was draining at a terrifying rate. They had been forced to shut down three of their outer city storefronts just to stem the bleeding.
But a clan that had stood as a titan for three decades did not simply roll over and die.
