Jinhai and the West

In the grand halls of the imperial palace, Jinhai sat upon his throne, listening as his informants relayed the latest whispers from beyond the Regime of Jin.

"Your Majesty," one of them began hesitantly, bowing low, "there are rumors from the West of a new invention—a surface that can be written upon with chalk and wiped away with mere cloth. They say it renders paper and quill all but obsolete."

Jinhai raised a skeptical brow. "A surface that can be used infinitely? Preposterous. If such a thing existed, the scholars of Jin would have devised it centuries ago."

"Yet the rumors persist, Your Majesty," the informant pressed.

"They claim it will change education, trade, even governance itself."

Jinhai waved a dismissive hand. "Another fool's dream. What else?"

The informant hesitated before continuing, "There are also whispers… of a weapon capable of tearing through reinforced steel."

This made Jinhai pause. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp.

"A weapon that pierces steel? With Qi?"

"No, Your Majesty. Without qi. A creation of pure machinery."

Jinhai scoffed. "Impossible. No blade, no hammer, no spear can cut steel without immense force. Where did this rumor originate?"

Another figure stepped forward—Wei Xian, Jinhai's most trusted informant.

Unlike the others, his word carried weight, his sources rarely failing. "The rumors are true, Your Majesty. I have spoken to someone… deeply embedded within the Western underworld. The weapon exists. And it is most likely in the hands of the Queen of the Underworld."

Jinhai's eyes narrowed. "Who is she?"

Wei Xian shook his head. "No kings, no emperors, no leaders know her true name. She is only known by her title."

The emperor drummed his fingers against the armrest of his throne, annoyance flickering across his features. "A nameless ruler controlling power beyond comprehension. How convenient."

He exhaled, reigning in his irritation. "And what of Yasmina's most loyal follower? Any leads?"

Wei Xian hesitated before pulling out a document. "Her name, once erased from records, has resurfaced. She was known as Zafira. But she no longer goes by that name."

Jinhai's brow furrowed. "Is this information verified?"

Wei Xian handed over the document. "Official records confirm it. But tracking her down? That is another matter entirely. She's a ghost."

Jinhai scanned the paper before clenching his jaw. "Find her. I don't care how long it takes."

He then leaned back, composing himself.

"And tell me—have there been any recent disturbances? Anything… that made a 'boom'?"

The other informants exchanged uneasy glances before one finally spoke. "Yes, Your Majesty. But it is not a simple matter. The source of the disturbance came from Shrouded Peaks Sect."

Jinhai's expression darkened instantly. He clenched the armrest of his throne. "That damned sect again. One of the few places in this world beyond my reach…"

His grip tightened. He controlled kings, armies, trade routes. But the cultivators hidden within the Shrouded Peaks Sect remained elusive, untouchable.

His mind churned. "A weapon that pierces steel. A hidden queen of the underworld. A ghost from Yasmina's past. And now… destruction from within Shrouded Peaks itself?"

He dismissed the informants with a wave of his hand. "Find me answers. And bring me results."

As the hall emptied, Jinhai sat in silence, contemplating the impossible.

"No known weapon could tear through steel," he muttered. "Unless…"

He tapped his fingers against the cold stone of his throne, mind racing.

"Unless it was something new entirely."

Emery and the Science of War

In a dimly lit workshop cluttered with metal parts, glass vials, and stacks of scribbled notes, Emery meticulously adjusted the firing mechanism of his latest invention. His hands moved with precision as he made minute changes to the inner workings of the weapon. Behind him, a large wooden board stood propped up, covered in equations and intricate sketches detailing his plans for a device that could harness electricity.

"Callum, hold that steady," Emery said absentmindedly, tightening a screw on the weapon's barrel.

Callum, looking absolutely exhausted, struggled under the weight of the chalk-writing surface and its wooden stand that Emery had demanded be set up for his calculations. "You know," Callum huffed, "most people would use a simple notebook, but no, you had to invent something that makes quills and ink obsolete."

Emery, without missing a beat, gestured toward the board.

"Why limit myself to archaic tools when I can create something infinitely reusable? Think about it, Callum! A surface where you can write and erase instantly with nothing but a cloth! No more wasted parchment! No more costly ink spills! This will revolutionize knowledge itself!"

Callum rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, and next you'll be telling me that we should replace candles with something called 'electric lights.'"

Emery snapped his fingers. "An excellent idea! I'll make a note of that."

Before Callum could curse his own existence, the door swung open and Zafira strolled in, holding one of the prototype firearms. She casually spun the weapon around her finger before aiming it at a wooden target across the room. With a deafening bang, the bullet tore through the target, embedding itself into the stone wall behind it.

Callum flinched. "Ever heard of a warning shot?!"

Zafira smirked. "That was the warning shot. The real one would've gone through your skull."

Emery chuckled, barely looking up as he jotted down notes.

"You see, Callum? She understands efficiency."

Zafira holstered the gun and leaned against the workbench.

"Speaking of efficiency, my informants just returned with something interesting. The rumours have already spread like you wanted. Jinhai is asking for information on the Queen of the Underworld."

Emery paused, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Obviously, you didn't give him your name, right?"

Zafira stretched lazily, her smirk widening. "Oh, but I did."

The workshop fell into stunned silence.

Callum choked on air. "YOU WHAT?!"

Emery pinched the bridge of his nose. "Zafira, I'm going to need you to repeat that slowly so I can process the sheer magnitude of the mistake you just made."

Zafira chuckled. "I simply told them the truth. My name is Zafira. That's all."

Callum looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. "Jinhai—the emperor of the Regime of Jin, the most powerful man in the East—now knows the name of the person ruling the Western Underworld, and you think that's fine?!"

Zafira shrugged. "Oh, come on. It's not like he can do anything with just a name. No one knows what I look like, and I don't exactly go around carrying that name either. I'm Ezra remember"

Emery sighed, rubbing his forehead. "That may be true, but it won't stop Jinhai from trying to track you down."

Zafira waved a dismissive hand.

"Let him try. It's impossible, and we both know it."

Callum looked between the two of them, still flabbergasted. "You two are actually insane."

Before Emery could reply, another informant rushed into the room, bowing quickly.

"Apologies for the intrusion, but there's more. Jinhai's men have also uncovered the real name of Yasmina's most trusted follower."

The air in the workshop grew tense. Emery and Callum turned to Zafira, who remained unnervingly calm.

"Go on," she said.

The informant hesitated before producing a document.

"They have records linking Yasmina's most trusted follower to Zafira. An official document confirming the name."

Emery took the paper and scanned it before handing it to Zafira. She barely glanced at it before smirking.

"Fascinating. And yet, all that effort will still lead them nowhere."

Callum leaned over to look. "So… is it true?"

Zafira tilted her head. "What do you think?"

Callum opened his mouth, then shut it. "...Right. I'm just going to pretend I didn't ask."

The informant cleared his throat. "There's one last thing, commander. Jinhai also inquired if there had been any incidents involving a loud explosion recently."

Emery and Callum exchanged glances.

Zafira raised an eyebrow. "And?"

The informant looked visibly uneasy. "We confirmed that there was indeed such an event. But the location… It came from Shrouded Peaks Sect."

The tension in the room thickened.

Ezra let out a low whistle. "Oh, Jinhai is going to hate that."

Emery exhaled, leaning against the workbench. "He's one of the few rulers in this world that has no control over that sect."

Callum muttered, "And knowing his personality, that fact alone probably keeps him up at night."

Ezra grinned. "Well, at least we know where his spies will be heading next."

Before anyone could respond, the door creaked open again, revealing a woman draped in dark traveling robes, her face partially obscured by a scarf.

Seraphine, one of Zafira's most capable informants, stepped forward, her presence demanding attention without a single word.

She bowed slightly before speaking. "Lady Ezra, we've completed the investigation on the Silver Lotus Sect versus Crimson Serpent Sect war."

Zafira raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Seraphine smirked. "Silver Lotus won."

The room fell silent for a moment before Callum let out an incredulous laugh. "You're joking. No way they pulled that off."

Emery, however, showed no surprise. "Not impossible. Unlikely, yes, but not impossible."

Seraphine continued, "There's more. The sect has supposedly changed hands in leadership. The new leader is Meilin Wuye, daughter of Lin Wuye, the former sect leader."

That got everyone's attention.

"Meilin Wuye?" Callum frowned. "She's barely older than sixteen. How the hell did a kid take over a war-torn sect?"

Emery placed a hand on his forehead and slowly pushed his hair back, his mind already racing through possibilities. If the Silver Lotus Sect won, there were only a few plausible explanations.

"Tactical superiority?"

Seraphine nodded. "The reports say the battle was decided through precise formations, terrain manipulation, and calculated strikes rather than brute force."

"Deception?"

"It's rumored they made the Crimson Serpent Sect believe they had the upper hand multiple times, only to exploit their overconfidence."

"Sacrificial plays?"

"Yes. Barely any losses on their side, but they forced the enemy to overextend at key moments."

Emery smirked. "Then there it is. They didn't win because they were stronger. They won because they were smarter."

Callum shook his head in disbelief.

"A sixteen-year-old led them to victory through strategy alone? That's insane."

Zafira tapped her fingers on the table, her expression unreadable.

"Not insane. Just rare. Very, very rare."

Emery let out a sharp exhale, rolling his shoulders as he processed the probabilities. "The statistical likelihood of a sixteen-year-old leading an entire sect to victory is... less than one percent. No, scratch that—closer to 0.03% given the variables of experience, leadership, and battlefield adaptability."

He tapped his fingers against his forehead before sliding them back through his hair. "Unless... she wasn't acting alone."

Callum frowned. "Go on, genius."

Emery smirked. "She had to have access to knowledge that the Crimson Serpent Sect underestimated. Tactical superiority isn't just about formations; it's about foresight. The sect would've needed access to precise scouting data, prediction models for enemy movements, and a commander capable of rapid mid-battle adjustments."

Seraphine nodded. "Our sources say they won through positioning and calculated strikes. The enemy was led into believing they were winning, only to fall into pre-planned traps."

"So she played them like a game of stones." Emery mused.

"The best way to defeat an arrogant opponent is to let them believe they're winning—right up until they aren't. And if she has that level of foresight… well, that makes her very, very dangerous."

Zafira stretched lazily before dismissing the thought. "Then let's make sure we know more before assuming. New mission: find out everything you can about Meilin Wuye. See if there's a way to open communication with the Shrouded Peaks Sect. If there's even a chance we can meet her and Daokan, I want to know."

Before Seraphine could leave, she smirked and snapped her fingers. The doors swung open, and two of her men dragged in a bound figure wrapped in thick ropes, his muffled protests evident beneath the gag. They tossed him onto the stone floor unceremoniously.

The man shouted something in Chinese, his voice panicked.

"放了我!你们不知道自己在和谁打交道!" (Let me go! You don't know who you're dealing with!)

Zafira's eyes gleamed as she crouched down beside him, her tone calm but edged with danger. "我们当然知道.问题是,你知道你现在在和谁说话吗?" (Oh, we know exactly who we're dealing with. The question is, do you know who you're speaking to?)

The man's face paled.

Callum, arms crossed, sighed. "Oh great. Here we go again. Chinese that I don't understand."

Seraphine and the other informants bowed before stepping back, their figures slipping into the shadows as they exited.

"We will return once we have more information, Commander."

Zafira barely acknowledged their departure, her focus entirely on the bound man before her. Before she could begin, Emery—watching with his usual mix of curiosity and detached amusement—leaned against the table.

"You know, you really should use the firearm. It could cut the interrogation time in half."

Zafira hummed in thought before suddenly drawing the firearm from her hip, inspecting it like it had just become the most fascinating tool in existence. Then, without hesitation, she aimed it directly at the captive's forehead, her expression turning unreadable.

"So. What exactly are you doing here? And more importantly, what's your purpose?"

The man, despite his bound state, scoffed. "You think that little shit can hurt me?" His eyes flicked to the gun, unimpressed.

"It's just a foreigner's toy. Nothing compared to true strength."

Zafira exhaled through her nose, almost disappointed. "Ah. You poor, ignorant soul."

Without breaking eye contact, she shifted the gun downward and pulled the trigger.

A sharp bang echoed through the room as the bullet buried itself into the stone floor just inches from his leg. The captive flinched violently, his bravado cracking for the first time as his breathing became erratic.

Emery, arms crossed, sighed in English. "Zafira. What. Are. You. Doing."

She gave him a casual shrug, still pointing the weapon lazily at the man's knee.

"A demonstration. He seems to think this is just a toy. I figured a little hands-on learning would help."

The captive, now visibly sweating, gritted his teeth. "Y-You missed."

Zafira's smirk widened and spoke back in their language.

"Oh, I wasn't aiming for you. But I can fix that mistake real quick."

Callum groaned, rubbing his forehead and hands. "One day, just one day, can we do things without scarring someone for life?"

The captive, still visibly shaken, suddenly closed his eyes, his breathing steadying. A faint shimmer of energy surrounded his body as he focused his Qi inward, attempting to reinforce his limbs and snap the bindings. The ropes trembled as his muscles flexed, veins pulsing from the enhanced strength.

"Hah!" he sneered. "You think I'm just going to sit here and beg? You're all powerless against true cultivators—"

Bang!

Before she pulled the trigger, Zafira grabbed the captive by the collar and slammed him down with brute force, her muscles tensing as she overpowered his Qi-reinforced body without using any Qi herself. The ground cracked beneath the impact, and the captive gasped in shock—his so-called reinforcement was crushed by raw strength alone.

"All that reinforcement, and you still can't beat someone who's just stronger than you?" she mused, pressing her boot against his chest to keep him pinned.

Then, without hesitation, she pulled the trigger. The bullet struck his thigh, punching through his supposedly reinforced Qi defense like paper. The moment it connected, his expression morphed from arrogance to sheer agony. He screamed, collapsing onto his side as blood seeped into the stone floor.

Emery blinked. "Zafira, WHAT THE FUCK!?"

She tilted her head, genuinely intrigued. "Huh. That's interesting."

"Interesting? You just shot him!" Callum gawked, kneeling beside the now-twitching captive, trying to stop the bleeding.

Zafira ignored him, crouching down beside her target.

"Your Qi reinforcement should have stopped that bullet. And yet…" She poked his shoulder with the tip of the gun, watching him flinch.

"It didn't."

Emery's eyes sharpened as he processed the implications. "Wait. Are you saying—"

Zafira nodded. "Your gun, Emery, doesn't just bypass standard Qi reinforcement—it weakens it. Not completely, but enough. I'd say the damage output is somewhere around a beginner level of raw force, maybe slightly more. But still enough to make cultivators bleed."

Emery scoffed, shaking his head. "Oh, right. Qi reinforcement. The mystical, all-powerful shield cultivators swear by. If it was so perfect, why does it keep failing when faced with actual physics?" He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

"Theoretically, it should have absorbed the impact, redirected the kinetic energy, something. But no, here we are, watching reality prove them wrong."

He crouched beside the now-bleeding captive, observing the wound with a detached curiosity speaks to him in Chinese. "你的所谓"气"并不神圣,它只是另一种能量场.而当一个物体移动得比你的强化反应更快时,会发生什么?(You see, your so-called 'Qi' isn't divine, it's just another energy field. And what happens when an object moves faster than your precious reinforcement can react?) He tapped the gun bullet hole. 很简单,就是这样. (It goes through. Simple as that.)

Zafira smirked, nudging the man with her boot.

"So much for being untouchable."

Callum, still holding a very injured and very much screaming captive, groaned. "You're both fascinated by this?! Can we at least pretend to care that he's bleeding out?"

Emery let out a long, suffering sigh, rubbing his temples before rolling up his sleeves.

"Fine, fine. If you insist on interrupting my incredibly valuable research time…" He motioned to Callum.

"First, press down on the wound. Hard. If he bleeds out before I get a proper look, I'll personally make you test the next firearm."

Callum muttered something under his breath but obeyed, applying pressure as the captive winced and groaned in pain.

Emery turned to Zafira. "Cover his mouth. Tight. If he bites his tongue off from the pain, we lose a perfectly good test subject."

Zafira smirked but complied, shoving a cloth between the man's teeth before pressing a hand over his mouth to muffle his screams.

With practiced efficiency, Emery took out the bullet with his bare hands, though he made sure to wipe them thoroughly with a clean cloth first. The projectile was still warm from the shot, slick with blood. He inspected it for a moment before discarding it.

"No warping. Clean entry. Looks like the barrel design is holding up."

Callum gave him an incredulous look. "I meant what are you doing about him, not your damn gun."

Emery ignored him, already moving on to the next step. He grabbed a bottle of brandy from the nearby shelf, uncorked it, drank some and poured it directly onto the wound. The captive's entire body convulsed as a muffled scream tore from his throat.

Callum flinched. "What the hell, Emery?!"

Zafira, who had been watching with amusement, suddenly stiffened. "Wait. Is that—was that my brandy?"

Emery barely glanced at her.

"Yes, and now it's a cleaning drink."

Zafira groaned, rubbing her temples. "That was a perfectly good bottle of expensive liquor! I was saving that!"

Emery scoffed. "Oh yes, forgive me for prioritizing stopping a man from dying over your own action and extravagant drinking habits. Next time, I'll let the wound rot and we can all enjoy a fine drink while watching him succumb to sepsis. Very civilized."

Emery rolled his eyes. "Relax. It's called brandy but right now it's a cleaning agent. If I must I'll explain to you why I use it but unless you'd rather watch him die slowly from infection, in which case, by all means, continue questioning my methods."

Callum hesitated. "But—"

"Why alcohol?" Emery interrupted, cutting off the inevitable complaint.

"Simple. Whatever Qi nonsense he was relying on clearly failed him, which means he's as vulnerable to septic infection as anyone else. Alcohol should kill off any unseen germs." He scoffed.

"Of course, if people actually understood why things rot and fester, we wouldn't have to rely on superstitious nonsense like 'bad air' and 'angry spirits.'"

Zafira chuckled. "Always the skeptic."

Emery ignored her, reaching into a small crate filled with dried herbs.

"Callum, elevate his leg while I prepare the clotting agents."

Callum followed the order while Emery ground yarrow and mugwort between his fingers, crushing them into a fine paste before pressing it firmly into the wound. "These should slow the bleeding and prevent further infection. At least, that's the theory."

"The theory?" Callum echoed, horrified.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. He's still alive, isn't he?" Emery grabbed a clean cloth and wrapped it tightly around the wound, binding it securely.

"There. Congratulations, he won't die immediately. Now, can I go back to my work?"

Callum, however, wasn't letting him off that easily. "Wait. Hold on. You just did all of that like it was second nature. What exactly did you do?"

Emery sighed dramatically, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Are you seriously asking me to explain basic logic? Fine. You start by slowing the bleeding—which you did, surprisingly well, might I add. Next, you prevent infection, which is why I had to sacrifice Zafira's precious brandy to clean the wound."

He smirked at Zafira, who scowled at him. "Then, you elevate the limb to reduce blood flow and swelling. After that, you apply coagulants—hence the herbs. Finally, you wrap it up tightly to keep everything in place."

Callum blinked. "So… you just invented the first actual method for treating gunshot wounds?"

Emery scoffed. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. I didn't invent it—I just figured it out first. Big difference."

Meanwhile, as Emery unknowingly laid the foundation for modern battlefield medicine, Zafira casually retied the captive's bindings, her hands swift and efficient. She shoved him back into position, this time without the gun, leaning in with an easy smirk.

"Now that we've established you're not invincible, shall we continue?"

The captive, breathing heavily, suddenly shifted his gaze to Zafira, desperation flickering in his eyes. "Please… I have a family." he pleaded.

"I did nothing wrong. I only wandered too far into your territory. I swear it!"

Zafira tilted her head, considering his words, but her expression remained unreadable. "Wandering into my domain without permission is already unacceptable," she said flatly.

"But still… killing you outright does seem a little cruel."

She turned to Emery, a knowing smirk on her lips.

"What do you think? You're the genius here. What should we do with him?"

Callum, standing slightly apart from them, barely followed the conversation. His limited grasp of the language left him piecing together what little he understood. He recognized the shift in tone—the captive's desperate pleas, Zafira's amused but unreadable response, and the way Emery's name was thrown into the mix.

Great. They're debating his fate, and I have no clue what's being said.

He resisted the urge to ask for a translation, knowing full well that Emery would only roll his eyes and Zafira would make it worse with an exaggerated, overly dramatic version just to mess with him. Instead, he watched warily, waiting for some indication of whether they were about to execute the poor bastard or let him go.

Emery crossed his arms, eyeing the captive with a mix of annoyance and curiosity. "You know martial arts, don't you?"

The man hesitated before nodding. "Yes… I've trained since childhood."

Emery scoffed. "Fantastic. Then tell me—how confident are you in explaining that whole 'Qi' nonsense to someone who actually uses his brain?"

The captive looked confused. "What?"

Zafira raised an eyebrow. "Emery, what are you getting at?"

Emery exhaled dramatically. "Simple. I want him to start a martial arts school. Not here. In the main city of Russia."

Emery continued, "Business. If we establish a martial arts school in a major city, we gain local influence. The people will flock to something exotic and 'mystical.' That's human nature."

Zafira nodded in understanding. "And that means profits. New students, high fees, and if the demand grows, we can monopolize martial arts training in this region."

"Exactly," Emery confirmed. "More than that, it expands our control over what information about Qi and combat is actually spread. Right now, it's all mythical nonsense—'cultivation this' and 'spiritual enlightenment that.' But if we teach it in a beginner-friendly way, it becomes accessible and structured."

Zafira grinned. "And unlike me trying to teach you, where you failed spectacularly, this guy can actually explain it properly."

Emery rolled his eyes. "Yes, because your version was essentially throwing me into a fight and saying, 'figure it out.' Hardly an education."

He turned back to the captive.

"So, congratulations. You're not going to die today. Instead, you're going to be a teacher."

The captive hesitated before blurting out, "What about my family?"

Zafira clicked her tongue. "Oh, now you remember them? Convenient." She crossed her arms, glancing at Emery. "What do you think? Family reunion, or are we keeping this simple?"

Callum, still trying to catch up, finally interjected.

"Look, I don't understand half of what's going on, but if he has a family, sending him alone could be a problem. What if they come looking for him? Or worse, if someone else uses them against him?"

Zafira hummed in thought. "That's a fair point. If his family is still in Regime of Jin, then they're leverage waiting to happen."

Emery tapped his fingers against his arm. "Fine. Then the solution is simple. We verify. We find out exactly where his family is, if they're in any danger, and—" he turned to the captive, "—if they're worth the effort."

The captive stiffened as if understanding English screamed. "Of course they are!"

Zafira smirked. "We'll see. If they're in trouble, maybe we help. Maybe we don't. But if you're lying to us, well…" She gestured vaguely toward the bloodstained floor.

"I'm sure you can guess what happens next."

Callum sighed. "Why does every solution around here involve either money, leverage, or threats?"

Zafira grinned. "Because they work."

As if on cue, the door swung open again, and Seraphine strode back in, her expression one of barely contained amusement. Behind her, several figures followed—a woman and three younger individuals, two boys and a girl, all looking weary and travel-worn.

The captive's head snapped toward them, his eyes widening in shock. "Haoran!"

The woman gasped, rushing forward, only to be held back by Seraphine's men. "Husband! Are you hurt? What have they done to you?"

Emery raised an eyebrow. "Well, that was fast. I see we're really embracing the 'efficiency' part of our organization."

The two boys, aged around fourteen and fifteen, looked worse for wear—bruises littering their arms and faces, evidence of a struggle. The girl, about twenty, held herself with quiet defiance, standing protectively in front of her mother.

Zafira whistled. "So, this is the family you were so worried about? You've got a wife, two sons who clearly don't know when to back down, and a daughter who looks like she's ready to stab me. Quite the group."

Haoran's breathing was ragged, his earlier bravado completely shattered as he stared at his family, equal parts relieved and terrified.

"They—they had nothing to do with this. They didn't even know I was here!"

Emery crouched down in front of the man, studying him with renewed curiosity.

"Interesting. But before we get all sentimental, let's address the real question here—" He turned to the family. "Do any of you know science, math, martial arts, or, heaven forbid, 'Qi' bullshit?"

The family exchanged nervous glances. The two boys, still visibly bruised from whatever ordeal they had endured, shifted uncomfortably under Emery's stare. The daughter, despite the tension, squared her shoulders and spoke first.

"I know some math." she said cautiously. "My father taught me basic calculations for trade."

Emery nodded approvingly. "Not bad. And the boys?"

The younger one, Chen , hesitated before responding, "We were trained in basic self-defense. Our father didn't want us to be helpless."

Haoran gritted his teeth. "I told them not to fight back. But they wouldn't listen."

"Obviously," Emery deadpanned, eyeing the bruises. "And you?" he directed at the older boy, Feng.

Feng lifted his chin. "I know how to use a staff."

Zafira smirked. "That's adorable. You planning to swat people away like flies?"

Feng bristled but held his tongue. Meanwhile, Emery tapped his fingers against his knee, clearly thinking.

"Alright, so we've got a merchant-in-training, two stubborn brats who don't know when to quit, and a father with just enough skill to get himself captured."

Haoran clenched his fists. "We are not useless."

"Good," Emery said, standing up and dusting off his shirt.

"Because I just decided we're keeping you."

The entire family stiffened.

Callum, who had been watching silently, raised a hand. "Uh, what?"

"Think about it," Emery said, gesturing toward them.

"We need an operational legal base in Russia, and what better way to establish control than with a family business? The father's got martial arts skills—he can teach. The daughter can handle finances or I can turn her into a new assistant. The boys can be trained further or I can use them. We have everything we need to open a school and control local trade."

Zafira folded her arms, intrigued.

"It does solve a lot of logistical problems. No need to bring in outsiders. We train them, we own them."

Haoran's wife, Renshu, stepped forward at last, glaring at them all. "And if we refuse?"

Emery raised an eyebrow. "Then you can go back to whatever life you had before. But considering your situation, I'd say this is the best deal you're going to get."

Zafira, the Queen of the Underworld, let out a dramatic sigh and slowly pulled out the firearm. She turned it in her hands, letting the metal gleam in the dim light.

"This," she said casually, "is what hurt your father."

The family tensed, their eyes flickering between the weapon and Haoran, whose expression darkened.

Renshu's lips pressed into a thin line. "You expect us to believe that? That little thing did what even blades and arrows can't?"

Zafira rolled her eyes. "Why does everyone want to keep testing me?"

Without hesitation, she aimed the gun and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into the stone floor—inches from Renshu's feet.

The sharp crack of the shot echoed through the room, the impact sending dust and shards of rock flying. Renshu and the children staggered back, their bravado cracking instantly.

The room fell silent.

Feng, the eldest son, swallowed hard, eyes wide. "That… that wasn't a normal weapon."

Zafira smirked, spinning the gun around her finger before holstering it. "Now you're starting to understand." She gestured toward Haoran. 

''Your father thought he was untouchable. That little 'trinket' proved otherwise. So, let's not waste time pretending you have a choice here."

Renshu pulled her children close, breathing heavily. "What… what do you want from us?"

Renshu hesitated, looking at her sons, then at her husband. The unspoken truth hung in the air—this was not a negotiation. It was an ultimatum.

Finally, Haoran exhaled. "What do you want us to do?"

Emery grinned. "Glad you asked. We're going to turn you into something useful."