The silk-clad youth froze. His lips parted around an unfinished slur as the luminous projection blotted out the gray smog overhead. The hook-scarred jawline and dead stare stamped above matched the figure under the frayed straw hat beside him. “The anomaly!” Hou San shrieked, slicing through the collective pause. He aimed a crooked finger at the youth in blue silk. “Look at him! He's dressed in stolen tithe-cloth! He's the traitor!” The bazaar buckled. Peddlers overturned carts to shield their crates, while iron-smiths and rogue practitioners lunged forward to pin the scapegoat. An herb broker smashed an iron balance scale across the youth's shoulder. “Insolent worms!” the youth screamed, swatting hands aside with a bronze fan. “I am heir to the Whispering Peaks!” The three enforcers in obsidian leather halted on the perimeter, their vision choked by swinging butcher hooks, spilled oil, and thrashing limbs. Teng Kui stepped through the blind spot behind a falling awning. His hand hooked over the petrified vendor’s counter, plucking the scarlet bloom from its brine bowl. The petals felt cool, moist, and heavy with iron. He slipped into the refuse trench behind the stalls, damp brick pressing against his shoulder. Hou San scrambled in three paces back, tucking brass taels into his waistband with grease-stained fingers. “Flawless diversion,” Hou San wheezed, wiping soot across his nose. “Those zealots will strip him down to his skin. Hand over the plant, brother. The old reptile won't wait.” Teng Kui ignored him, pulling the dark-veined flower from his tunic and holding it against the jade amulet hidden below his collar. The stone shivered against his collarbone. *“A Blood Lotus,”* Jiao Zang’s ancient voice rasped in Teng Kui’s mind, devoid of excitement. *“Adequate. For a mortal’s meager comprehension of true spirit herbs.”* Teng Kui waited. The amulet twitched against his skin. *“However,”* the ancient presence purred, *“my palate requires refinement. This leaf needs a proper solvent. Lunar Phoenix wine drawn from a void cask, or at least a gourd of century-aged marrow-brandy. Bare petals offend my dignity.”* Teng Kui did not answer. He squeezed the stem until bitter sap welled over the stone, pressing the petals hard into the jade. *“Impudent boy,”* the beast hissed. *“A bargain demands proper respect. If I swallow raw weeds, the formula I yield may carry flaws. A fracture in your past life's grand design, perhaps.”* Boot studs crunched across broken roof tiles overhead. Two voices barked orders ten paces away. Teng Kui's thumb ground the flower directly over the carving. *Drink, or starve.* *“Stingy whelp,”* Jiao Zang snorted through his mind. *“Fine. But the next tribute will cost you chests of uncut spirit ore.”* The stalk blackened and dissolved into scarlet vapor, sinking into the jade. A searing burn traveled up Teng Kui's arm, scorching new pathways through his broken meridians. Glyphs seared into his memory: the execution stances of the **Sundering Claw**. The alley mouth darkened. The lead enforcer stepped into the passage, his poison-slicked stiletto drawn. His gaze flicked past Teng Kui’s bent spine and hemp rags without pausing, fixing straight onto Hou San, who knocked over a wooden bucket in his scramble to retreat. “You!” the guard snarled, his voice a low growl. “Scum of the outer ranks. You harbored the anomaly, didn’t you? Or perhaps you *are* the anomaly. The Inner Sanctum will peel your skin for answers.” He unsheathed a short, poisoned dagger, its tip gleaming with malevolent intent. Hou San blanched, his hands flying up in a desperate, futile gesture of surrender. The killer stalked past Teng Kui, raising the blade. “Pity. You die beside a broken mule with cracked meridians.” Teng Kui shifted his weight onto his good heel. He pivoted inside the enforcer's guard. Teng Kui’s open palm struck flat against the man’s breastplate without a sound, his fingers flexing inward as internal force sank beneath the cured beast-hide. The enforcer's jaw dropped. The qi barrier protecting his ribs liquefied into black sludge along with his heart and lungs. He slumped against the damp stone, foam bubbling pink from his nostrils. The body collapsed into the muck. Slipping from the dead man's leather tunic, a dark slate medallion struck the wet cobblestones. It bore an open eye circled by twelve miniature blades: the seal of the Heavenly Censors.

The Extortionist Dragon's Bargain