Marer was rummaging through a drawer, then slapped a list regarding equipment of a top-5 Rank hunter in front of Qianye. Hearing that Qianye wanted to purchase some intelligence, Paused his reading glass sliding down his brow and looking over it, with widened eyes Marer asked, “What kind precisely?”
“Darkflow city, the Seventh Legion.”
Upon hearing that, Marer’s eyes turned razor-like. He pushed his glasses back up, saying slowly: “You my young friend, are reaching for something quite perilous indeed.”
Qianye browsed through the nearly one-hundred-item checklist on the hunting catalog he had previously just switched gear from the last operation, thus the majority of hunting-grade gear being essentially useless this time around, ultimately, pointing to and selecting merely a lightweight under-armor set and some blank powergun cartridges.
“Peril?” Qianye asked again, finally offering half a grin after placing the checklist neatly onto Mared’s desk. “After all, I was merely after some mundane bits of info.”
Marer spoke slowly and deliberately as usual: “You probably knew this already, but just last month Wu Zhennan got promoted to a Major-General in military terms. Well, the real catch is not there. The point is, within that countless military commanders under the Expedition Legion’s structure, while Wu might not necessarily be the worst headache one could ever encounter, he’d most probably still stand well within the first three that you wouldn’t love to meet. While ‘Wu’ is indeed indeed in the surname sense – referring to ‘Wushis’ from ‘Weiyang’ whose clan lineage roots trace military nobility, as common knowledge suggests he started climbing through common ranks, meaning both his ambition and the methods he employs need absolutely no additional descriptions.”
“Needless to say then,” Marer interlocked Qianye’s stare after both had fixed eyes upon each other for quite some time as Marer spoke on: “If all you wanted was merely general data, that would’ve been more-than-sufficient.”
Qianye raised a questioning gaze as Marer, continuing through lenses’ glance, concluded the previous sentence with the tone that bore a smirk in the folds of aged wrinkles upon his features. Qianye finally smiled: “Alright, what I am really asking for would be his recent black market transactions.”
That statement earned him: “A golden coin, for a tip one hundred golden coins.”
One flicked up instantly. A coin’s price for typical bits of information would even sound generous here back amidst the Darkblood City days. Then both parties well-understand that by “transactions” Qianye referenced were underground dealings, not just the visible exchanges that involved procurement of rations and arms of the regiment level.
Still, an astronomic figure. As one golden coin could at least land someone owning at least two Rank B power-firing weapons or sometimes even cover bounties from certain S-ranked operations.
Marer, with a flick of his sleeves, snapped: “And that’s exactly what you’ll pay, son! I only halved the initial asking price because of that fancy Rank-V hunter certification of yours, so don’t even try that old sympathy act. Just how foolish you are for specifically choosing to target Wu Zhennan. To dig the kind of dirt for you, I will have to prepare myself that the entire informant network inside the Darkflow City would be purged! So, dear friend, now you really think I’ve overcharged you?”
A stance firm and without compromise followed. Qianye stayed silent after, asking merely:
“And what will be the projected lead time you would need?”
“Perhaps in five days. With the current unstable situations around, our agents could work quite limited, you know?”
Qianye, then nodded solemnly: “Alright. In that time I’ll probably first seek proper lodgings and might make some brief explorations around near and beyond the outer-city outskirts.”
At this old gentleman, with his expression half-concealing a thoughtful shadow behind glasses’ curve, murmured further: “How about staying over? That mansion still stands intact, unoccupied and waiting.”
A thoughtful pause. A simple agreement.
“Fine.”
Marer looked at how Qianye receded toward horizon’s dark, as if musing to himself pushing up another slide on lens:
“Huh… Could it be I have made a false judgment all along? Exactly… Just who’s blood lineage does he bear?”
Marer had long suspected an obscure provenance with the youth but still understood one thing better than most, how that Exiledland always harbored everyone’s own guarded stories that couldn’t even be spoken aloud.
Thinking of Wu Zhennan again reminded Marer somewhat inevitably again, the already late You Renyan – who’d passed in Darkblood City earlier. It had surprised Marer greatly when those two had revealed prior contacts between them back then, as You Renyan previously had served inside a clandestine Special Forces Unit dubbed ‘shadow-blade” directly under Wu’s command.
Now with thoughts of these intertwined figures swirling within thoughts, Marer grabbed the pitcher Qianye last drank from, shook and swirled emptily, then clanged it down as hard.
As fingers reached once again instinctively flipping through that dusty mission record register to jot down notes absentmindedly: old times were long past; responsibilities, heavier days behind… As瑛Man had moved towards High Continent’s skies, likely not looking back soon. After all—The Hunter’s Place remained strictly a clearinghouse, handling postings’ acceptance or broadcasting—not concerned for whose agenda’s execution.
As for Qianye himself, now retraced upon these well-walked albeit long-unvisited streets. When he passed Nantangent district for instance, momentarily a home memory resurfaced: his humble old hut and a clear scent of spring green grass in certain girl’s presence on rainy evenings. Yet, though still not even completing that year in distance before re-arriving this same land again, he still never intended turning the corner toward familiar walls past those moments.
Their prior conversation lingered still amidst a swirling sea within his mind: Originally, when he first told Song Zi’ning the plan he had in returning to Eternal Nights, plans remained nebulous for future movement; killing the culprits had appeared, then, perhaps the single most immediate, effective response.
However, in his present state and standing at warrior rank, it still stood entirely unrealistic he’d eliminate a general class enemy so suddenly—yet he still carried that belief that someday, he too could attain such potential for vengeance in patient time’s waiting.
Even more soon though did he perceive matters far from being so simple either.
If disrupting further traffic in human trafficking and raw blacksilver trading became his prime objective, murdering Wu per se perhaps still held minimal consequence. As that vast underlying network of interest remained unscarred, its distribution paths left intact. Someone would step in inevitably for the space a eliminated Wu once stood. And the hinting shadows Marer conveyed today also hinted similarly—regarding this militaristic enclave as tightly fortified as near-impossibility, not even the Headquarters of Expedition Legion having pierced its veil. Not something one single individual like General alone could engineer.
Before long streets curved to endings while he now fixed a lingering gaze at the threshold before him, so familiar he carried within.
No changes at all. This place maintained every single trace as how瑛Man left it behind long ago! For this prolonged period without intrusion even attempted—it clearly meant someone kept watch for her from behind shadows. Yet it had indeed stood unvisited for so long dust covered everything. After a tedious clean-up, finally he managed to get a sleeping corner prepared enough to suit his needs.
Afterwards, he started constructing an elaborate series of defensive traps inside rooms. Luggage laid, belongings arranged; at last settled in temporarily.
Multiple journeys back-and-forth down Xuantong Alley brought him loads of weaponry: cartridges bulking heavy along with various tools and metallic parts that rapidly filled both armory chamber and supply storehouse. Power-based weaponry while formidable on battlefield bore inherent limitations of restricted usage cycles.
When facing numerous foot soldiers and minor rank enemies especially, there’s certain advantage powder-propelling hardware held over its magic-infused competitors for battlefield effect.
After he completed every single preparation, had some bite-sized rations, and merely waited—until that precise moment chimes struck twelve.
Then in a reflective mirror space where Qianye adjusted minute facial structure, exchanged his attire in swapping on a heavy coat. Hidden within the coat folds lay all his weaponry like Twin-blossom and Radiant Fang concealed ready, before he finally set himself walking into a pitch-shadow evening beyond his threshold.
An hour later and now within shadows lurking in a remote lane in Northern District stood Qianye, its end occupied with an unnamed shabbily-run drinking establishment. Seated outside were hulking brutes watching every passer-by with bloodless hostile glares.
He pressed on, until near the door where one massive thug extended an abnormally thick arm blocking all progress:
“Listen up fella. This ain’t one of those free entries open door parties. A ticket must be bought first by someone like you to even get allowed inside!”
As said words carried contempt, his calloused fingers flickering threateningly near some concealed weaponry.
Qianye raised merely a small item from within his palm before those eyes.
“Would you call it sufficient as a ticket?” came Qianye’s calm, emotionless voice.
Upon seeing the object up-close, this man’s attitude did an instant 360, shooting into upright position snapping rigid respect:
“Sir please proceed. Hope you could uncover whatever it was you came here for.”
Back in reply, the dark-cloaked man offered a dry chuckle:
“So do I.”
His reply’s cadence suddenly carried the timber of a mature, slightly weathered middle-age; its gravely tone laced with an unplaceably chilling presence.
When he stepped inside, those seated around at the entryway immediately clustered around the former gate-guard.
“Gee, bro what the heck did you let get in here?” the whisper of curiosity rippled.
His former comrade threw a glacial cold stare their way, harking only a grim retort:
“I don’t know. And you better be glad we do not know, unless you fancy some sudden expiration ahead of expected.”
Through the aged weathered single plank door opened up into far grander spaces than anticipated. No decoration or frills; stone-blocked walls were laid in raw texture while similarly-stoned smooth polished floors were spotlessly kept despite overall austere minimalism inside.
In typical tavern terms—it already ranked as unusually silent. Herein about ten or so scattered customers occupied widely separated tables; murmured confidential talks barely above the audible limit passed between certain pairs, while several figures sate solitary, nursing glasses with eyes stubbornly buried elsewhere.
Yet when the tall stranger entered, instantaneous fell absolute quietness. All heads twisted around to observe in an unspoken wariness, clearly the typical defensive responses to a mysterious uninvited arrival.
But the subtle sense he detected: even amid businesses usually requiring public access, a cautious reception like this still remained quite unusual.
“Looks like I’m on spot,” he thought.
Behind another central bar counter sat an elderly fellow whose features bore absolutely no distinguishable peculiarities at first glance yet somehow made itself felt. He waved his hand politely while greeting:
“What will be our honored friend wanting? Wine? Brandy? Or…”
“Just, three glasses of water.”
Surprise slightly flickering in old eyes for a moment the only expression, after that he nodded calmly.
“All right. Would you wait a second first though?”
“Letting me know just to find another chair will suffice,” Qianye replied, heading straight over toward the bar himself.
As passing yet a different table, the figure of a crooked, hunched, suspiciously-looking short man approached, sniffing loudly, then howled loudly:
“He-he, smell what I just smelly now fellow friends! I caught whiffs—yech! That unmistakably dead, putrid, vampire rot stench in air! So strong it nearly smells like blocks of pure blacksilver burning straight inside nostrils! Ha!”
Temperature plummet instantaneously within the room, as almost every hand instinctively strayed toward concealed weapons.
Qianye turned at his steps, locking in this diminutive man.
“Keep that defective nose of yours away. Elsewise it serves no purpose but its existence.”
From the man himself, no movement at all, no attack—save that his entire silhouette was suddenly wrapped inside wisps like thin, faintly-pink haze. Some glowing golden particles, as fine stardust shimmered through that cloud, drifting away all toward the diminutive figure.
However, to that very figure himself—it played out rather differently:
Suddenly wafted a seductively-sweet scent in his nostrils.
Unbelievably alluring—so alluring in fact that before realizing he inhaled deeply. And with that breath went all the golden motes in.
The last half of this whole sequence triggered the tiny man’s horror: golden particles he knew—deadly. He recognized imminent lethal threat.
He tried struggling to close his airway, he tried fighting against instinct to resist drawing air in his direction. But the perfume—so intoxicating, drew him helplessly toward the next inhalation until finally—gulping all that golden essence within.
Then suddenly—a sharp black tinge formed over that protrusive nasal bone turning into gangrenous decay, creating before a horrific black hollow cavity before crumpling lifelessly to the wooden ground, unconsciousness taking over.
No sounds from inside bar now—the silence thick like velvet darkness pressing every living soul present there. Here and there, faint gasps slipped.
Yet the fragrance—the pleasure only existed exclusively inside the crooked man’s personal senses.
All surrounding guests here only perceived the faint red energy waifed subtly around the black coated youth, those golden stardust fragments within—clear as day a manifestation of externally-released essence. Power release on such levels only came within individuals of warrior class or higher.
Unperturbed, that black silhouette scanned the area, tone as casual yet unyielding as one’s casual stretch while speaking up lightly:
“Gentlemen. Anyone else here feel they’ve lost enough self-control recently to require a painful, little reminder?”
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