A week later, the gilded summons from the Bao Clan arrived. An invitation to a “reconciliation banquet,” Elder Bao’s ornate script promised renewed friendship and shared prosperity. Xu Ren merely traced the swirling phoenix on the wax seal with a detached finger. “A feast of knives,” he murmured, a faint, cold smile touching his lips. Lien Anh stood beside him, her silver hair catching the dim light of the Xu Clan’s receiving hall. Her gaze was sharp, wary. “He seeks to absorb us,” she stated, her voice low. “His agents have been pressing our minor vassals for weeks, promising them protection under the Bao banner. He will make an offer you cannot refuse.” “Indeed,” Xu Ren agreed, pushing himself from his worn chair. The effects of the crude pill had stabilized Lien Anh’s cultivation, granting her a subtle hum of renewed vigor, but his own core still felt a dull ache, a phantom limb of the Sutra’s recent punishment. “And I shall refuse it anyway.” He arrived at the sprawling Bao Estate in a humble, single-horse carriage, a stark contrast to the sleek, daemon-pulled chariots of other minor clan heads already gathered. Lien Anh, clad in her customary dark leather, walked a pace behind him, her hand never far from the hilt of her twin shortswords. The grand hall shimmered with polished obsidian and jade, the air thick with the scent of roasted beast and expensive incense. Servants in indigo livery moved with practiced grace, offering platters of exotic delicacies. Elder Bao, a man whose smile never quite reached his eyes, greeted them at the hall’s center. His robes of deep emerald silk seemed to absorb the candlelight, making him appear a shadow made corporeal. “Nephew Ren,” he boomed, his voice echoing, “How wonderful to see you well! The rumors of your recent vitality have even reached my ears. A true blessing for Sunken Jade City!” His eyes, however, lingered on Lien Anh, a flicker of suspicion in their depths. The banquet proceeded with a forced cordiality. Elder Bao showcased his clan’s rising prestige, narrating tales of trade routes secured and rival gangs dismantled. He paraded his three robust sons, each a cultivator of the late Skyreacher realm, their proud, arrogant faces shining under the glowing orb-lights. Their retinues, a formidable array of seasoned warriors, stood sentinel around the hall, their presence a silent, menacing declaration of strength. After the main course, as servants cleared away platters of glistening Dragon-eel, Elder Bao leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that nonetheless carried throughout the hushed hall. “Nephew Ren,” he began, a magnanimous mask fixed upon his face, “The Xu Clan, though venerable, has fallen on hard times. It pains me to see a noble lineage dwindle. My eldest son, Bao Feng, a man of great talent and ambition, has voiced an interest in taking a wife. What do you say to a joining of our houses? Your sister, Xu Lan, possesses a delicate beauty, I hear. Such an alliance would, of course, secure the Xu Clan’s future under our protection.” The offer was clear: merge or be absorbed. Xu Ren took a slow sip of his jasmine tea, the fragrant steam rising to obscure his features. Bao Feng, a hulking man with a cruel smirk, watched him with unconcealed contempt. The other clan heads shifted uncomfortably, sensing the tension. “Elder Bao,” Xu Ren replied, his voice calm, polite, yet carrying an edge of steel that belied his frail appearance. “Your generosity is… overwhelming. However, my sister has her own aspirations, and the Xu Clan, though perhaps modest in its present state, intends to forge its own future. We respectfully decline your gracious offer.” A hush fell. Elder Bao’s smile remained fixed, but his eyes narrowed to slits. “A pity,” he purred, the sound like silk tearing. His right hand dropped to his side, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture. Before the signal could fully register with the guests, a dozen dark forms detached themselves from the shadowed rafters above, descending with a chilling silence. They moved like wraiths, their black garb absorbing the light, their steel gleaming with an oily, emerald sheen. Elder Bao’s elite ‘Shadow Blades.’ Their target was clearly Xu Ren. Lien Anh reacted in a flash. Her hand flew to her twin weapons, drawing them with a whisper of steel. She moved in front of Xu Ren, her posture low and defensive, a silver-haired shield. The first killer, a blur of motion, lunged, his poisoned dagger aimed for Xu Ren’s throat. Lien Anh met him head-on, her left sword deflecting his attack with a clang, her right sweeping out in a graceful arc that forced him back. Her movements were fluid, precise, betraying years of rigorous training. The hall erupted into chaos. Shrieks of alarm, the scrape of chairs, and the frantic pounding of feet as guests scrambled for cover. Elder Bao remained seated, a smug, satisfied grin stretching his lips, watching the unfolding scene with chilling delight. His sons drew their own sabers, not to intervene, but to intimidate any who might consider aiding the Xu Clan. “Poisoned steel,” Xu Ren observed, his voice cutting through the din as Lien Anh parried another furious assault. He stood utterly still behind her, seemingly helpless, his gaze calm as he watched the emerald sheen on the assassins’ weapons. “The ‘Darkened Viper’s Kiss,’ if I’m not mistaken. A rather obscure concoction, favored by cutthroats in the Blackfang Peaks for its rapid onset and Qi-suppressing properties.” Elder Bao’s smirk faltered slightly. Lien Anh, despite her focus on the whirling edges, spared a fleeting glance back at Xu Ren, surprised. The ambushers, momentarily distracted by Xu Ren’s nonchalant commentary, pressed their attack with renewed ferocity. “It’s a compound of the Shadow-lily’s venom, the sap of the Gloom-thistle, and a refined extract of the Lunar Moth’s wings,” Xu Ren continued, as if lecturing a class, his voice clear and resonant. Lien Anh danced around three attackers, her blades flashing. “The lunar moth extract is the key. It suppresses Qi by disrupting its flow through the primary meridians, rather than simply neutralizing it.” He paused, watching Lien Anh deftly deflect a strike that would have certainly crippled him. “There are, of course, several methods to counteract it. A simple counter-agent could be brewed from Star-thyme and Sunpetal. Alternatively, a concentrated application of the ‘Everbloom’s Dew’ would crystallize the lunar moth component, rendering the venom inert. Or, for a more direct approach, one could simply introduce a strong current of pure, unblemished Qi into the afflicted meridian, burning out the disruptive essence entirely before the venom takes full hold.” Elder Bao’s face had gone from smug to utterly aghast. His eyes darted between Xu Ren’s serene, knowing demeanor and the furious, yet increasingly wary, assassins. How could this sickly, talentless boy, whose clan was on its last legs, possess such intimate knowledge of a poison so rare and specialized, let alone offer three distinct remedies with such casual ease? It was impossible. Before Elder Bao could regain his composure or issue new orders, a new voice, bright and indignant, rang through the chaotic hall. The double doors to the estate, which had been barred for the banquet, burst inward with a resounding crash, revealing a petite figure framed by the night sky. Her cheerful features were tightened with furious focus, and the symbol of a verdant cloud was embroidered proudly on her robes. “The Verdant Cloud Pavilion formally protests this attack on a guest Alchemist!”

A Feast of Knives