Chapter 8: The Serpent Beneath the Floorboards
~1.7k words · 2026-06-22
The lantern light flickered across Zhao Feng's ledger, casting dancing shadows that seemed to writhe like living things. He dipped his brush in ink, the familiar scent of grinding stone and pressed herbs filling the small warehouse.
*The Immortal Ascension Tournament,* he wrote in careful characters. *Six months. Lightning techniques. The woman from the western hills.*
He paused, remembering her face. Lin Xue. She'd been nothing—a servant's daughter who'd scraped together enough merit points to enter the tournament as a lark. When she'd unleashed those first lightning strikes, the elders had nearly fallen off their platforms. By the time she'd summoned the Sixfold Heaven's Wrath technique, they were already drafting contracts.
The major families had fought over her like dogs over meat. But in the end, it was Zhao Feng's own son—his second, Zhao Ming—who had secured her allegiance. He'd promised her resources, protection, a place in the family. And when she'd delivered the location of the Thunder God's Remains, Zhao Ming had taken everything and left her crippled in a ditch.
That was how the Zhao family operated. Take, consume, discard.
The brush snapped in Zhao Feng's grip.
He set down the pieces and took a breath. *Different life. Different path. This time, I find her first.*
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. Three quick raps, a pause, then two more. The signal he'd arranged with Xiao Chen.
"Come."
The boy slipped inside like a shadow, his movements silent despite the creaking floorboards. His eyes were sharp, scanning the room before they settled on Zhao Feng.
"He's coming," Xiao Chen said. "Wu Chen. I followed him from the teahouse. He met with someone—a woman in a green veil. They talked for an hour."
"A woman?"
"I couldn't hear what they said, but he looked nervous when he left. Wiped his hands on his robe like he was sweating." The boy's nose wrinkled. "Rich people sweat different than poor people. Smells worse."
Zhao Feng almost smiled. "Anything else?"
"He's bringing two men. Big ones. They're waiting outside the merchant district now, pretending to browse a weapons stall." Xiao Chen's eyes narrowed. "I don't think this is a friendly visit."
*No. No, it isn't.*
Zhao Feng had known this day would come. Wu Chen was connected—not to a major family, but to the Snake Sect, a minor criminal organization that controlled the city's black market. In his past life, Zhao Feng had crushed them without a second thought. But that was after he'd built his fortune, after he had fifty enforcers at his call.
Now he had a leaking warehouse and a street kid.
"Stay hidden," Zhao Feng said. "Watch through the cracks in the wall. If things go wrong, don't intervene. Run to the East Market and find a man named Iron Ho. Tell him I sent you, that I need the favor repaid."
"What favor?"
"Just tell him. He'll know."
Xiao Chen's jaw tightened, but he nodded and vanished into the shadows behind a stack of crates.
Zhao Feng straightened his robe, checked the small knife hidden in his sleeve, and waited.
---
The door burst open twenty minutes later.
Wu Chen entered first, his round face slick with sweat despite the cool evening air. He wore silk robes that strained at the seams, his fingers heavy with jade rings. Behind him, two men ducked through the doorway—bruisers with scarred knuckles and dead eyes.
"Brother Zhao!" Wu Chen's voice boomed, too loud for the small space. "I hope I'm not interrupting your... what would you call this? Inventory?"
"Business," Zhao Feng said calmly. "Just as you're conducting business by bringing guests without notice."
Wu Chen's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Ah, but these are my associates. Very interested in what you've been selling. You see, I've heard rumors that you've been moving qi stones at prices that don't match the market average. I told them, 'That can't be right. Brother Zhao is a newcomer, but he's not stupid.' But they insisted on seeing for themselves."
The bigger of the two bruisers stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "Open the crates."
Zhao Feng didn't move. "I don't recall offering you tea."
The bruiser's face reddened. "Listen, you little—"
"Patience, patience." Wu Chen waved a hand, still smiling. "Brother Zhao, I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm here to offer you a partnership. The Snake Sect has been very generous to merchants who show... flexibility. We provide protection, access to exclusive markets, and we ask only for a small percentage of your earnings."
"How small?"
"Thirty percent."
Zhao Feng laughed.
It wasn't a polite laugh. It was the laugh of a man who had heard something genuinely absurd. It echoed off the warehouse walls, and for a moment, even the bruisers looked uncertain.
Wu Chen's smile hardened. "Something funny?"
"Thirty percent," Zhao Feng repeated, wiping his eyes. "You want thirty percent of my earnings, and in return, you'll protect me from the same thugs you're threatening me with right now. That's a beautiful arrangement. Truly. I almost admire the simplicity of it."
"Are you refusing?"
"I'm saying your offer is insulting." Zhao Feng stepped around the table, moving closer to Wu Chen. The bruisers tensed, but he stopped just out of arm's reach. "Let me make you a counteroffer. You leave now. You tell your superiors that Zhao Feng is not interested in partnerships. And you forget you ever saw this warehouse."
Wu Chen's smile vanished entirely. "You think you can threaten me? I've been doing business in this city since before you were born, boy. I have connections you can't imagine. I can have your license revoked. I can have your stock seized. I can have you found floating in the river with your throat cut."
"Three things," Zhao Feng said, his voice dropping low. "First, I'm not a boy. Second, if my stock is seized, I know exactly which officials to bribe to get it back—and I know exactly how much they charge. Third, and most importantly..." He reached into his robe and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "I know about the girl in the Green Lotus Brothel. The one with the birthmark on her shoulder. The one you've been hiding from your wife."
Wu Chen went pale.
"She's pregnant," Zhao Feng continued. "Your wife finds out, she'll take you for everything you have in the divorce. Your father-in-law is on the city council. He'll make sure you never work in this district again. And the Snake Sect? They'll cut you loose the moment you're not useful."
"How—" Wu Chen's voice cracked. "How do you know about that?"
"I know a lot of things." Zhao Feng folded the paper and tucked it away. "I know that your third cousin is in debt to the Zhao family's loan sharks. I know that you've been skimming from the Snake Sect's accounts for the past six months. And I know that if you don't walk out that door right now and never come back, I will make sure every piece of information I have finds its way to the right ears."
The bruisers looked at Wu Chen, waiting for orders.
Wu Chen's hands trembled. For a long moment, he just stood there, his face cycling through colors—red, white, purple. Then, slowly, he turned.
"Let's go."
"Boss—"
"I said let's go!"
The bruisers followed him out, shooting dark looks at Zhao Feng as they left. The door slammed shut, and then there was silence.
Zhao Feng let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Xiao Chen emerged from the shadows, his eyes wide. "That was... that was incredible. How did you know all that?"
"Research." Zhao Feng walked to the table and poured himself a cup of cold tea. His hand only shook slightly. "Information is the most valuable commodity in the world, Xiao Chen. Money comes and goes. Power rises and falls. But knowing things that other people don't want you to know? That lasts forever."
"But how did you find out? You've only been in the city for a month."
Zhao Feng didn't answer. He couldn't explain that he'd known Wu Chen in his past life—that the man had been a minor nuisance, easily crushed, but that Zhao Feng had made it a habit to learn everyone's secrets. Just in case.
"Wu Chen won't stay scared forever," Zhao Feng said instead. "He'll go back to the Snake Sect, and they'll send someone smarter. Someone who won't be so easy to intimidate."
"Then what do we do?"
"We accelerate the timeline." Zhao Feng opened his ledger and flipped to a page marked with a red seal. "The Immortal Ascension Tournament is in six months. But there's another event happening sooner. A gathering of rogue cultivators at the Black Market Auction, three weeks from now."
"Auction?"
"A rogue cultivator found a map to an ancient tomb. He's selling copies. The major families don't know about it yet—they think it's just a rumor." Zhao Feng's eyes gleamed. "But I know it's real. And I know what's inside."
Xiao Chen leaned forward. "What?"
"Seeds," Zhao Feng said. "The seeds of the Lightning Bamboo, guarded by a remnant formation. The same bamboo that, when properly cultivated, produces the techniques that Lin Xue used to win the tournament."
He closed the ledger. "We need to get there first. We need to buy those map copies before anyone else knows they exist."
"How much will they cost?"
"Everything we have. And more."
Xiao Chen's face fell. "But we don't have more."
"No. We don't." Zhao Feng stared at the lantern flame, watching it dance and flicker. "Which means we need to find another way. A way to get money that doesn't involve selling our stock."
"What kind of way?"
Zhao Feng reached into his robe and pulled out a small, carved token—a serpent coiled around a flame, the symbol of the Snake Sect. He'd lifted it from Wu Chen during their confrontation, a trick he'd perfected over forty years of dealing with untrustworthy men.
"The Snake Sect has a vault," he said slowly. "Hidden beneath the gambling den on Serpent Street. And I know the combination."
"You want to rob them?"
"No." Zhao Feng's smile was cold, sharp, and utterly without mercy. "I want to make them an offer they can't refuse. One that ends with them paying me to take their money."
The lantern sputtered.
Outside, the night grew dark, and somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.
*The Immortal Ascension Tournament,* he wrote in careful characters. *Six months. Lightning techniques. The woman from the western hills.*
He paused, remembering her face. Lin Xue. She'd been nothing—a servant's daughter who'd scraped together enough merit points to enter the tournament as a lark. When she'd unleashed those first lightning strikes, the elders had nearly fallen off their platforms. By the time she'd summoned the Sixfold Heaven's Wrath technique, they were already drafting contracts.
The major families had fought over her like dogs over meat. But in the end, it was Zhao Feng's own son—his second, Zhao Ming—who had secured her allegiance. He'd promised her resources, protection, a place in the family. And when she'd delivered the location of the Thunder God's Remains, Zhao Ming had taken everything and left her crippled in a ditch.
That was how the Zhao family operated. Take, consume, discard.
The brush snapped in Zhao Feng's grip.
He set down the pieces and took a breath. *Different life. Different path. This time, I find her first.*
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. Three quick raps, a pause, then two more. The signal he'd arranged with Xiao Chen.
"Come."
The boy slipped inside like a shadow, his movements silent despite the creaking floorboards. His eyes were sharp, scanning the room before they settled on Zhao Feng.
"He's coming," Xiao Chen said. "Wu Chen. I followed him from the teahouse. He met with someone—a woman in a green veil. They talked for an hour."
"A woman?"
"I couldn't hear what they said, but he looked nervous when he left. Wiped his hands on his robe like he was sweating." The boy's nose wrinkled. "Rich people sweat different than poor people. Smells worse."
Zhao Feng almost smiled. "Anything else?"
"He's bringing two men. Big ones. They're waiting outside the merchant district now, pretending to browse a weapons stall." Xiao Chen's eyes narrowed. "I don't think this is a friendly visit."
*No. No, it isn't.*
Zhao Feng had known this day would come. Wu Chen was connected—not to a major family, but to the Snake Sect, a minor criminal organization that controlled the city's black market. In his past life, Zhao Feng had crushed them without a second thought. But that was after he'd built his fortune, after he had fifty enforcers at his call.
Now he had a leaking warehouse and a street kid.
"Stay hidden," Zhao Feng said. "Watch through the cracks in the wall. If things go wrong, don't intervene. Run to the East Market and find a man named Iron Ho. Tell him I sent you, that I need the favor repaid."
"What favor?"
"Just tell him. He'll know."
Xiao Chen's jaw tightened, but he nodded and vanished into the shadows behind a stack of crates.
Zhao Feng straightened his robe, checked the small knife hidden in his sleeve, and waited.
---
The door burst open twenty minutes later.
Wu Chen entered first, his round face slick with sweat despite the cool evening air. He wore silk robes that strained at the seams, his fingers heavy with jade rings. Behind him, two men ducked through the doorway—bruisers with scarred knuckles and dead eyes.
"Brother Zhao!" Wu Chen's voice boomed, too loud for the small space. "I hope I'm not interrupting your... what would you call this? Inventory?"
"Business," Zhao Feng said calmly. "Just as you're conducting business by bringing guests without notice."
Wu Chen's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Ah, but these are my associates. Very interested in what you've been selling. You see, I've heard rumors that you've been moving qi stones at prices that don't match the market average. I told them, 'That can't be right. Brother Zhao is a newcomer, but he's not stupid.' But they insisted on seeing for themselves."
The bigger of the two bruisers stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "Open the crates."
Zhao Feng didn't move. "I don't recall offering you tea."
The bruiser's face reddened. "Listen, you little—"
"Patience, patience." Wu Chen waved a hand, still smiling. "Brother Zhao, I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm here to offer you a partnership. The Snake Sect has been very generous to merchants who show... flexibility. We provide protection, access to exclusive markets, and we ask only for a small percentage of your earnings."
"How small?"
"Thirty percent."
Zhao Feng laughed.
It wasn't a polite laugh. It was the laugh of a man who had heard something genuinely absurd. It echoed off the warehouse walls, and for a moment, even the bruisers looked uncertain.
Wu Chen's smile hardened. "Something funny?"
"Thirty percent," Zhao Feng repeated, wiping his eyes. "You want thirty percent of my earnings, and in return, you'll protect me from the same thugs you're threatening me with right now. That's a beautiful arrangement. Truly. I almost admire the simplicity of it."
"Are you refusing?"
"I'm saying your offer is insulting." Zhao Feng stepped around the table, moving closer to Wu Chen. The bruisers tensed, but he stopped just out of arm's reach. "Let me make you a counteroffer. You leave now. You tell your superiors that Zhao Feng is not interested in partnerships. And you forget you ever saw this warehouse."
Wu Chen's smile vanished entirely. "You think you can threaten me? I've been doing business in this city since before you were born, boy. I have connections you can't imagine. I can have your license revoked. I can have your stock seized. I can have you found floating in the river with your throat cut."
"Three things," Zhao Feng said, his voice dropping low. "First, I'm not a boy. Second, if my stock is seized, I know exactly which officials to bribe to get it back—and I know exactly how much they charge. Third, and most importantly..." He reached into his robe and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "I know about the girl in the Green Lotus Brothel. The one with the birthmark on her shoulder. The one you've been hiding from your wife."
Wu Chen went pale.
"She's pregnant," Zhao Feng continued. "Your wife finds out, she'll take you for everything you have in the divorce. Your father-in-law is on the city council. He'll make sure you never work in this district again. And the Snake Sect? They'll cut you loose the moment you're not useful."
"How—" Wu Chen's voice cracked. "How do you know about that?"
"I know a lot of things." Zhao Feng folded the paper and tucked it away. "I know that your third cousin is in debt to the Zhao family's loan sharks. I know that you've been skimming from the Snake Sect's accounts for the past six months. And I know that if you don't walk out that door right now and never come back, I will make sure every piece of information I have finds its way to the right ears."
The bruisers looked at Wu Chen, waiting for orders.
Wu Chen's hands trembled. For a long moment, he just stood there, his face cycling through colors—red, white, purple. Then, slowly, he turned.
"Let's go."
"Boss—"
"I said let's go!"
The bruisers followed him out, shooting dark looks at Zhao Feng as they left. The door slammed shut, and then there was silence.
Zhao Feng let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Xiao Chen emerged from the shadows, his eyes wide. "That was... that was incredible. How did you know all that?"
"Research." Zhao Feng walked to the table and poured himself a cup of cold tea. His hand only shook slightly. "Information is the most valuable commodity in the world, Xiao Chen. Money comes and goes. Power rises and falls. But knowing things that other people don't want you to know? That lasts forever."
"But how did you find out? You've only been in the city for a month."
Zhao Feng didn't answer. He couldn't explain that he'd known Wu Chen in his past life—that the man had been a minor nuisance, easily crushed, but that Zhao Feng had made it a habit to learn everyone's secrets. Just in case.
"Wu Chen won't stay scared forever," Zhao Feng said instead. "He'll go back to the Snake Sect, and they'll send someone smarter. Someone who won't be so easy to intimidate."
"Then what do we do?"
"We accelerate the timeline." Zhao Feng opened his ledger and flipped to a page marked with a red seal. "The Immortal Ascension Tournament is in six months. But there's another event happening sooner. A gathering of rogue cultivators at the Black Market Auction, three weeks from now."
"Auction?"
"A rogue cultivator found a map to an ancient tomb. He's selling copies. The major families don't know about it yet—they think it's just a rumor." Zhao Feng's eyes gleamed. "But I know it's real. And I know what's inside."
Xiao Chen leaned forward. "What?"
"Seeds," Zhao Feng said. "The seeds of the Lightning Bamboo, guarded by a remnant formation. The same bamboo that, when properly cultivated, produces the techniques that Lin Xue used to win the tournament."
He closed the ledger. "We need to get there first. We need to buy those map copies before anyone else knows they exist."
"How much will they cost?"
"Everything we have. And more."
Xiao Chen's face fell. "But we don't have more."
"No. We don't." Zhao Feng stared at the lantern flame, watching it dance and flicker. "Which means we need to find another way. A way to get money that doesn't involve selling our stock."
"What kind of way?"
Zhao Feng reached into his robe and pulled out a small, carved token—a serpent coiled around a flame, the symbol of the Snake Sect. He'd lifted it from Wu Chen during their confrontation, a trick he'd perfected over forty years of dealing with untrustworthy men.
"The Snake Sect has a vault," he said slowly. "Hidden beneath the gambling den on Serpent Street. And I know the combination."
"You want to rob them?"
"No." Zhao Feng's smile was cold, sharp, and utterly without mercy. "I want to make them an offer they can't refuse. One that ends with them paying me to take their money."
The lantern sputtered.
Outside, the night grew dark, and somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.