Shadowwwing
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69. Nice
🕑 Added 2025-07-08 22:00:04 +0000 UTCStepping back out onto the street, Jiang’s stomach grumbled irritably, a pointed reminder that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Between exhaustion and hunger, exhaustion could wait a bit longer.
Han had said the Broker wouldn’t be in for a couple of hours anyway, so he had some time to kill. Shame he’d never really been able to get the hang of mid-day naps.
“You know a good place to get breakfast around here?” he asked Lin, ignoring the rather pointed look of curiosity she was sending his way. No doubt she’d expected him to be kicked out of the Golden Carp – but then, he wasn’t about to explain how he’d gotten in.
“Depends on if you’re paying.”
Jiang rolled his eyes but nodded anyway. It wasn’t like he was hurting for money at the moment. “Sure.”
Lin immediately brightened, shifting seamlessly from wary street rat to enthusiastic guide. “In that case, I know exactly where to go. Follow me.”
She led him swiftly through a maze of winding alleys, avoiding the main roads almost instinctively. It wasn’t long before they emerged into a marketplace, already bustling despite the early hour. A chaotic symphony of voices called out, advertising goods from fabrics to live chickens. Jiang found it hard to focus on any one thing, distracted by the sheer sensory overload of so many people crammed into one place.
Lin ignored most of it with practised ease, weaving confidently through the crowd until they reached a small, unassuming stall at the corner of two intersecting streets. It was mostly luck that Jiang didn’t lose her in the press of humanity. Fortunately, the stall Lin had led him to was worth the irritation – he had to swallow some drool at the mouthwatering aroma wafting from its steaming bamboo baskets.
“Best steamed buns in Qinghe,” Lin declared firmly, elbowing aside another customer to grab two fresh buns wrapped in paper, passing one to Jiang before he could even question what was happening. He handed the vendor a few copper coins in response to a pointed look from Lin.
Biting into the bun, Jiang blinked in surprise at how genuinely good it tasted—soft, fluffy dough wrapped around a warm, savoury filling. “You weren’t lying,” he admitted, already feeling a little less irritable. “These are good.”
Lin grinned around her own bun, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “Told you.”
They lingered in companionable silence until Jiang finished off the last bite. With at least an hour left to kill before the Broker would be available, Jiang felt restless energy beginning to prickle under his skin again. The rooftop escape from the previous night flickered through his mind, and he considered it thoughtfully for a moment.
“So,” Lin started casually, folding the empty paper wrapper into a ball, “What now? Got any other random inns you need to visit, or are you feeling like sharing why you’re running around talking to random people and stealing combs?”
“If you had to sneak around in the middle of the day, how would you do it?” Jiang asked, ignoring her question.
Lin huffed, but obligingly thought about it for a second. “Depends on where I was and who was looking for me, I suppose.”
Jiang cocked his head. “That makes a difference?”
“Sure it does,” Lin laughed. “If I were running from the city watch, I’d head for the rooftops. Not exactly subtle, not in the middle of the day, but they don’t get paid enough to follow a street rat up there. Too dangerous for their taste. Then it’s just a matter of getting a couple of streets over, breaking line of sight, and slipping into a crowd. If I somehow managed to piss off another street rat, though, I’d stick to the crowds as much as possible. They wouldn’t want to draw attention any more than I would, so it’s sort of a ‘hiding in plain sight’ thing.”
That was much more considered than Jiang had expected, to be honest.
“What about if a gang was looking for you? Actually, does Qinghe even have gangs?” Jiang asked, curious. The little he did know about cities was generally picked up from stories his father, then later his mother, told him. Even then, he wasn’t sure how much of what he was told was second-hand stories, how much was thinly-disguised life lessons, and how much was simply made up to entertain an energetic child.
Lin snorted a laugh. “Sure, we’ve got gangs. Couple of big ones, but most of them are just a bunch of people grouping up, either for protection or to try and take stuff from everyone else. Those… tend not to last that long. Whether it’s because they try and bite off more than they can chew, or because one of the bigger gangs absorbs them.”
Jiang nodded along, surprising himself by how interested he was. While he didn’t intend to stick around the city for long, having at least a general understanding of the factions was never going to hurt. Plus… he had a sneaking suspicion the Broker’s next few tasks were going to involve the gangs.
Assuming he wasn’t able to pay for the information he needed with his current funds, of course – but somehow he suspected the Broker was going to ensure the information was just too expensive for him to afford without doing another job or two. Call it a hunch.
“Tell me more about these gangs,” Jiang pressed. If he had a couple of hours to spare, he might as well spend them productively.
— — —
Despite knowing the name and being able to describe ‘The Bar’ pretty clearly, it still took Lin two attempts before they finally found the place. Jiang suspected it wasn’t entirely her fault – the tavern was frustratingly nondescript, deliberately anonymous among a street full of similar establishments. Notably, the area was almost deserted, and the few people wandering the streets moved quickly and kept their heads down.
“Here?” Lin asked skeptically, clearly unimpressed as she glanced up and down the quiet street. She shifted her weight nervously, eyes constantly scanning the nearby alleyways. “You know how I said the last two places were bad news for people like us? This place is bad news for everyone. I don’t know the area well, but judging by the look of the people here, I feel like it’s unpopular for a reason.”
Jiang glanced around, silently agreeing. “Pretty sure that’s on purpose.”
Lin shook her head slightly, stepping back with a faint grimace. “I’m not going in there – you’re on your own for this one. I’ll wait out here. Actually, scratch that – I’m going to get up to the roofs and wait up there. Less chance of getting jumped or stabbed.”
“Fair enough,” Jiang replied, watching her retreat to the alley and scramble easily onto the rooftops. Privately, he couldn’t exactly blame her caution – ironically, it had felt safer when he’d been here at night, though that was probably because he couldn’t see all the warning signs.
With a resigned sigh, Jiang pushed the tavern door open and stepped inside. His eyes flicked toward the bar itself, immediately searching the shelves above. After a moment, he spotted it—a single, carefully placed bottle of clear liquor, prominently displayed at the corner of the top shelf. The gold-etched label caught the dim tavern light, looking a little out of place considering the state of the rest of the room.
Jiang took a steadying breath and pushed through the curtain at the back, making his way through the kitchen. Like the last time, the cook seemed determined to ignore his existence as he entered the storage cupboard and pushed open the false back, making his way down the dusty steps. Even having seen it before, had he not already known of its existence, he wouldn’t have had a chance of finding the hidden passageway.
He felt a flicker of unease entering alone – even knowing of Han’s loyalties, he missed the man’s steady, reassuring presence – but he pushed the feeling down. Jiang knocked once on the inner door of the waiting room, and the now-familiar, smooth voice bid him enter. The Broker was seated behind his desk in almost exactly the same position as last time, the featureless bone mask fixed on Jiang as he stepped inside.
“Ah, Cultivator Jiang,” the Broker greeted him, his voice holding a note of warm welcome. “I trust your time in our fair city has been… educational. I was pleased to hear your task was concluded so swiftly and successfully.”
Jiang’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly at the subtle reminder of the man’s reach. Han. It had to have been Han who’d sent word. He felt a brief spike of irritation at the caravan master for reporting on him, before the more pragmatic part of his mind took over. Of course Han had told him. The man worked for the Broker first and foremost; Jiang was just a temporary, if useful, travelling companion. It was another simple, hard lesson in loyalty and commerce.
“I have the comb,” Jiang said, cutting straight to the point. He placed the heavy jade ornament on the polished desk, the intricate carving a stark contrast to his own worn leather gloves.
The Broker picked it up, examining it for a moment before setting it aside with a satisfied nod. “Excellent. A job well done – and with it, a clear demonstration of your capability. You’ve proven yourself to be as resourceful as Han suggested.” He steepled his fingers, the mask tilting slightly. “Now that your credentials have been established, so to speak, to your original purpose. You mentioned wanting to know about the Hollow Fangs – I’ve taken the liberty of making some preliminary inquiries on your behalf. After all, if you don’t know what information you need, I can hardly set a price, can I?”
Jiang’s focus sharpened, the discomfort of the last few days momentarily forgotten. This was it.
“Unfortunately,” the Broker continued, his smooth tone unchanged, “the news is somewhat… complicated. You see, as a single, coherent entity, the Hollow Fangs don’t actually exist.”
Jiang blinked. What? That… couldn’t be right. He knew they existed – had seen their camp himself when he’d tracked their signs from the ruins of his village. They existed.
“In reality,” the Broker went on, oblivious to Jiang’s turmoil, “it’s a name, a reputation. A convenient banner for any number of smaller, unaffiliated crews to rally under when they wish to sound more fearsome than they are. It’s a common tactic among the less imaginative sort of criminal. So, to find who, exactly, you are looking for, you will need to be more specific.”
The words landed with a dull, heavy thud in Jiang’s gut. He wasn’t stupid – the Broker’s information, assuming it was correct, revealed that the rumours he’d left the Sect for, the ones he’d followed all the way here, were useless. Worse than useless, actually. If the Hollow Fangs didn’t exist, how the hell was he supposed to track down his family? That had been the one thread he could pull, the name people would recognise. If it had been some random bandit group – or, worse, a collection of smaller groups operating under the same name – then finding them was… unlikely, especially after months had passed and the trail was cold.
He’d based his entire desperate quest on the dying words of one man. Zhou Wei had told him it was the Hollow Fangs, and he hadn’t doubted for a moment. He’d never seen Gao Leng, and though the camp he’d found carried the insignia of a dripping fang, that could have been nothing more than a misdirection. He’d just heard the name, and in his grief and rage, had latched onto it as the source of all his misery.
Jiang swallowed, the motion painful in his dry throat.
No. He refused to accept it.
There had to be some way of tracking down the bandit group responsible – and if they’d used the name Hollow Fangs once, they would have used it in the past.
“A village,” he said, his voice rough. “Liǔxī. It was raided a few months back, just before the first heavy snows. The entire village was taken captive—men, women, children. It was a large group, well-equipped. They had to have been.”
The Broker’s posture shifted, a subtle straightening that spoke of renewed interest. “I see,” he said slowly. “That does narrow the field considerably. You are correct; very few gangs in this province have the numbers or the logistics for an operation of that scale. Most are scavengers, not armies.” He paused. “The good news, for a given value of ‘good,’ is that any group capable of taking that many captives would have one primary goal: selling them. And for that, there is no better market in the northern provinces than Qinghe. Our distance from the capital makes the Magistrate’s authority… flexible. It’s a port city. People, like any other cargo, can be shipped out and vanish forever.”
Hope flickered back to life in Jiang’s stomach. It was an option he hadn’t considered – that he might not even need to find the bandits themselves to find his family. If the Broker could tell him where the captives were sold, he could track them down directly. While the need for revenge burned in his heart, he was, at his core, a practical person. Revenge could wait. His family couldn’t.
“The slave trade,” Jiang said, his voice hard. “Where does it happen? Who runs it?”
The Broker let out a soft sound, almost a sigh. “That, my friend, is a far more difficult question. The slavers of Qinghe are not simple thugs; they are ghosts. They operate through layers of intermediaries, cut-outs, and shell operations. They do not advertise. To find them… is a dangerous and expensive undertaking.” He let the implication hang in the air. “I do not sell information I do not possess. But,” he added, before Jiang’s hope could curdle completely, “I can begin the search. In the meantime, there’s no reason to not tackle this problem from both ends. We can work to identify which of the major bandit crews was responsible for the raid on Liǔxī. While I do not know their precise locations, I do know their general hunting grounds, their habits, their strengths, and, of course, their weaknesses. For a price, I can give you enough to begin your own hunt.”
Jiang leaned forward in his chair, feeling his Qi writhing underneath his skin. Finally. This was what he’d been looking for this whole time.
A target.
Comments
Ben A
Nice.
Raymond Mouton
Thanks for the chapter.
