Chapter 10: The Snake in the Garden

The ledger blurred before Zhao Feng's eyes. He'd been calculating for three hours, cross-referencing prices, mapping supply routes, and estimating the capital he'd need to corner the low-grade qi stone market before the Immortal Ascension Tournament.

His plan was solid. In six months, when the tournament began, demand for qi stones would skyrocket. Every outer disciple would be scrambling to buy cultivation resources. Every merchant would raise prices. But Zhao Feng intended to own the supply chain before any of them realized what was happening.

The problem was capital.

His current stockpile was worth ten thousand spirit coins. He needed at least fifty thousand to execute his plan. And he needed it within three months.

The creak of the warehouse door made him look up.

Wu Chen entered with the practiced silence of a man who'd spent years moving through shadows. He was shorter than Zhao Feng remembered from his past life, with a weasel-like face and eyes that never stopped moving. Behind him, two enforcers waited in the darkness, their cultivation auras carefully suppressed.

"Brother Zhao," Wu Chen said, his voice oily and warm. "I hope I'm not disturbing your evening calculations."

"You're always disturbing something," Zhao Feng replied, closing his ledger. "What do you want, Wu Chen?"

"Straight to business. I appreciate that." Wu Chen pulled up a crate and sat, crossing his legs with the ease of a man who believed he had all the time in the world. "I've been watching your operation with great interest. You've moved a surprising amount of product in a very short time. Impressive, considering you started with nothing."

"I had a good teacher."

"Did you?" Wu Chen's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I heard you were just a porter at the Azure Pavilion. Then suddenly you have capital, you have connections, and you're buying up low-grade qi stones like a man who knows something the rest of us don't."

Zhao Feng kept his face neutral. Inside, his mind raced. Wu Chen was fishing. But how much did he know? In his past life, Wu Chen had been a minor player, a fence who dealt in stolen goods and information. He'd been useful precisely because he was forgettable.

But forgettable men didn't track new merchants to their warehouses at night.

"I'm flattered by your attention," Zhao Feng said. "But I'm just a small trader. Trying to make a living."

"Small traders don't buy three hundred qi stones in a single week." Wu Chen leaned forward. "Small traders don't know the exact moment to buy when prices bottom out. Small traders don't move like they've seen the future."

Ice crawled down Zhao Feng's spine.

This was wrong. In his past life, no one had noticed him this early. He'd been beneath notice, a nobody trading in scraps. But his actions had been different this time. He'd been bolder, faster, more aggressive. And the wolves had taken notice.

"I have good instincts," Zhao Feng said carefully. "Nothing more."

"Instincts." Wu Chen laughed, a sound like grinding stones. "Let me tell you what I think, Brother Zhao. I think you have information. I think someone is feeding you intelligence about the markets. And I think that intelligence is going to make someone very rich."

He paused, letting the silence stretch.

"I want in."

Zhao Feng didn't answer immediately. He reached for the kettle he'd left heating on a small brazier and poured two cups of tea. The gesture gave him time to think.

Wu Chen wasn't offering a partnership. He was making a threat disguised as an invitation. If Zhao Feng refused, the information about his sudden rise would spread to the major families. They would investigate. They would find questions that had no good answers.

"I don't need a partner," Zhao Feng said finally. "I have everything I need."

"Everyone needs partners. Even the strong need allies." Wu Chen accepted the tea but didn't drink. "Think of it as insurance. You let me take a small percentage of your profits, and I make sure certain... questions don't get asked."

"And if I refuse your generous offer?"

Wu Chen's smile vanished. "Then I start asking those questions myself. To the Shen family. To the Li family. To everyone who might be interested in a nobody merchant who suddenly knows too much."

The threat hung in the air like smoke.

Zhao Feng's hand moved to his storage ring, where he kept a talisman for emergency defense. But fighting was the last resort. He couldn't kill Wu Chen without drawing attention, and he couldn't let him leave without an answer.

"I'll give you an answer in three days," Zhao Feng said.

"Three days?"

"I need to review my books. Calculate what percentage I can afford to give without destroying my operation." Zhao Feng stood, signaling the meeting was over. "Come back at midnight. Three days from now. I'll have an answer ready."

Wu Chen studied him for a long moment. Then he rose, brushing imaginary dust from his robes.

"Three days," he agreed. "But Brother Zhao? Don't try to run. I have eyes everywhere in this district. And those eyes will find you long before you reach the city gates."

He left without drinking his tea.

Zhao Feng waited until the footsteps faded before he let out the breath he'd been holding. His hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from rage.

In his past life, men like Wu Chen had been nothing. Ants beneath his notice. But now, this ant had the power to destroy everything he was building.

He needed to deal with Wu Chen. Permanently.

But killing him would bring the city guard. It would bring the major families. It would bring questions he couldn't answer.

He needed a different solution.

---

Xiao Chen found him an hour later, slipping through a crack in the warehouse wall that Zhao Feng hadn't noticed. The boy moved like a ghost, his bare feet making no sound on the dusty floor.

"The weasel came to see you," Xiao Chen said. It wasn't a question.

"You were watching?"

"I followed him for two days, like you said. He's not just a fence." The boy's voice dropped. "He works for someone. A woman. I couldn't get close enough to hear her name, but she's important. Big house. Lots of guards. And she's been meeting with the Shen family."

Zhao Feng's blood ran cold.

The Shen family. His first target for the qi stone market corner. The family he'd planned to bankrupt in the tournament's aftermath.

If Wu Chen was connected to them, then everything he'd said tonight was a test. A probe to see how Zhao Feng would react.

"Did you see her face?"

"No. She wears a veil. But I saw her hands." Xiao Chen held up his own, mimicking the gesture. "She has a scar. Three lines, like claw marks, across her right wrist."

Zhao Feng's mind exploded with recognition.

The Three-Clawed Woman. A legendary figure from his past life, a cultivator who'd been crippled during a failed breakthrough and turned to information brokering. She'd been one of the most dangerous people in the underworld, controlling a network of spies that stretched across three provinces.

And she was interested in him.

"Why?" he muttered, pacing the warehouse floor. "Why would she care about a small-time merchant?"

"The same reason everyone cares," Xiao Chen said. "You're doing things you shouldn't be able to do. People notice."

The boy was right. Zhao Feng had been too aggressive. Too knowledgeable. He'd moved like a man who'd already won, and the predators had taken notice.

He stopped pacing.

"I need to change my approach."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I've been acting like a merchant prince when I'm still a beggar with a few coins." He turned to face Xiao Chen. "I need to become invisible again. Let them think I'm nothing. Let them forget about me."

"How?"

Zhao Feng's eyes drifted to the crates of qi stones. In his past life, he'd learned a technique that could hide one's cultivation level, making a cultivator appear weaker than they truly were. But that wasn't what he needed.

He needed to hide his success. Make it look like failure.

"We're going to lose money," he said. "Publicly. Dramatically. We're going to make it look like I made a series of terrible investments and lost everything."

"And then?"

"And then I disappear. Let the Three-Clawed Woman think I'm broken. Let Wu Chen think there's nothing left to squeeze." Zhao Feng's voice hardened. "And while they're laughing at my failure, I'll be building something they can't see coming."

Xiao Chen nodded slowly. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow. I need you to spread a rumor. Tell the street kids that you saw me crying. That I was drinking alone. That I'm losing everything."

The boy's eyes widened. "You want me to lie about you?"

"I want you to tell the truth about a lie." Zhao Feng pulled out a pouch of coins and tossed it to him. "Make it convincing. Your life depends on it."

Xiao Chen caught the pouch and slipped it into his rags. "And if someone asks why I'm helping you?"

"Because I paid you. That's all they need to know." Zhao Feng walked to the door and opened it, letting the cold night air rush in. "Go. Start the whisper. By dawn, I want the entire district to think Zhao Feng is finished."

The boy vanished into the darkness without another word.

Zhao Feng stood in the doorway, watching the stars wheel overhead. In his past life, he'd learned that the greatest weapon wasn't strength or wealth.

It was what people believed.

Let them believe he was weak. Let them believe he was broken. Let them write him off as another failed merchant who reached too high.

When the Immortal Ascension Tournament came, they would learn the truth.

But first, he had to survive the night.

He closed the door and returned to his calculations, but his mind kept drifting to the scarred woman. The Three-Clawed Woman. In his past life, she'd died during a power struggle between the major families, her network scattered to the winds. But that was thirty years from now.

In the present, she was alive. Connected. Dangerous.

And she had her eyes on him.

Zhao Feng sharpened his quill and began writing a new plan. A darker plan. One that involved blood and fire and the careful destruction of everyone who threatened what he was building.

He wrote until his hand cramped, until the lantern oil ran low, until the first gray light of dawn crept through the cracks in the walls.

Then he burned the pages and watched the ashes scatter in the wind.

The game had changed.

And Zhao Feng intended to win.