Warlord

Far from the tense atmosphere surrounding Layla, the air crackled with a different kind of energy.

A dimly lit workshop with lanterns in the heart of Russia bustled with the sounds of scribbling chalk, the occasional clatter of equations, and the frustrated sighs of students grappling with unfamiliar concepts. The scent of old paper, burning oil, and damp wood filled the air, mingling with the crisp cold seeping through the stone walls.

Emery stood at the front of the makeshift classroom, his sleeves rolled up, eyes sharp as he tapped a chalk-covered hand against the board. "Mathematics is the foundation of all technology. If you don't understand this, you might as well remain farmers."

Across the room, Haoran's daughter, Lianfei, stared at the equations scrawled across the board, her brows furrowed as she worked through the logic. Algebra and calculus were unfamiliar, but not incomprehensible—if only she had the right explanations.

Callum, seated beside her, groaned, rubbing his temples. "Okay, listen, uh—Lianfei, right? So, you have a giant bowl of rice, and instead of counting grains, you group them in chunks of 'x'. Now if you have three bowls and each has 'x' grains of rice, that's 3x! Easy, yeah?"

Lianfei's blank stare was as cold as the Russian winter outside.

She exhaled through her nose before muttering in flawless Mandarin

"What is this idiot rambling about?"

Callum groaned, turning helplessly toward Emery.

"Why am I even here? She doesn't understand a lick of English, and I don't know jack shit about their language."

Emery sighed, adjusting his spectacles as he effortlessly translated. Lianfei glanced between the two of them before crossing her arms. 

''I understand mathematics, not whatever nonsense he's spewing."

"Then keep up" Emery replied in Mandarin, writing out a more complex derivative on the board. "This isn't arithmetic anymore. If you want to grasp how energy transfer works, you need to understand rates of change. No calculus, no progress."

Lianfei blinked. Then, in Mandarin, she muttered under her breath

 "What is this idiot saying? Calculus? What is that??"

 Chen and Feng, both barely in their teens, scribbled furiously on their slates, struggling to keep pace with the lesson.

Chen hesitated before raising his hand.

"Master Emery… why do we need to learn this? I thought we were supposed to be working with metals."

Emery exhaled sharply. "Because metallurgy requires precision, and precision requires calculations. You think building an engine is the same as hammering a sword?" He rapped his knuckles against the board.

"No numbers, no electricity. No electricity, no progress. If you want to stay in the dark, be my guest."

Feng, more eager than Chen, nodded quickly.

"So… we're learning this to build your device?"

Emery smirked. "Exactly. In order to harness electricity, we need a consistent energy source, which means calculations must be flawless. If any of you make a mistake, you could fry yourselves like an overcooked pheasant."

Callum leaned back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. "Lovely. Who doesn't want to die for science?"

Emery shot him a look. "Then don't help."

"Oh, trust me, prince, I wouldn't if I had a choice," Callum grumbled before rubbing his forehead again.

"This is going to be a long lesson."

Emery ignored them, already moving across the room to a different board, one covered in an increasingly chaotic mess of equations, diagrams, and hastily scribbled notes.

"And over here, behold!" he declared dramatically, waving a piece of chalk like a conductor's baton.

"Emery's Law of Energy Induction!"

Callum groaned, sinking further into his chair. "Oh, here we go."

Emery continued as if he hadn't heard. "When a conductor—meaning a wire, for you simpletons—moves through a magnetic field, electrons get all jittery and start flowing, producing electricity!"

He underlined his sketch of a coil and magnet with such force the chalk nearly snapped.

"This is the fundamental principle behind my—ahem—the world's first practical electromagnetic generator."

Chen and Feng exchanged a glance. "So… you're saying we just need to move metal through magnets?"

Emery whirled around so fast his coat flared out. "Just? Did you just say just?"

He pointed aggressively at the board. "Do you have any idea how precise this has to be? The rotations, the material conductivity, the field intensity—all of it has to be calculated perfectly! One misstep, and instead of harnessing power, you'll have a very expensive, very useless hunk of metal."

Lianfei, still focused on her equations, muttered

"So this is why you're making us learn ''calculus''."

"Exactly!" Emery snapped his fingers.

"Voltage, resistance, current flow—all of it follows predictable patterns, if you know the math. Which, unfortunately for me, none of you do. Yet." He tapped the board again.

"This is why you're here—to make sure my machine actually works instead of exploding in a fiery disaster."

Lianfei, who had been silent until now, suddenly frowned, stepping closer to the board.

"Your coil placement is inefficient."

Emery blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

She pointed at one of his more complex sketches, her expression unreadable. "If you adjust the angle of rotation here by even a few degrees, you'd reduce energy loss. Right now, you're generating unnecessary resistance."

For a moment, the room was silent.

Then Emery's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Brilliant!"

He grabbed a fresh piece of chalk and immediately started adjusting his calculations. "Yes, yes—less drag on the rotational field… better electron flow… I like where your head is at!"

Emery, still lost in his calculations, nodded approvingly. "You're officially promoted to 'slightly less incompetent.' Keep this up, and you might actually be helpful."

—

Elsewhere, in the cold stone corridors of the Russian stronghold, Zafira walked with pride while Haoran and Renshu followed, their expressions cautious and worried. The mighty warlord and underworld Queen has the cards to potentially monopolise a big part of the economy. 

She smirked to herself and talking to herself.

Strength alone means nothing if it isn't controlled.

Zafira crossed her arms, studying them like a merchant appraising goods. "Let's get one thing straight—you're not prisoners. But you're not free, either. Your loyalty isn't guaranteed, and until it is, I have to ensure you don't suddenly decide to slit my throat in my sleep."

Haoran scoffed, "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

Zafira's smile widened. "By making sure you have more to lose than you could ever gain by betraying me."

Haoran's jaw tightened. "You think this makes us your lapdogs?"

Zafira let out a soft chuckle. "Dogs are loyal. Tools are reliable. I don't need either—I need assets. And that's what I intend to make you."

Renshu, ever the quiet observer, merely adjusted her sleeves. "And what exactly does this… 'investment' in us entail?"

Zafira turned on her heel, gesturing for them to follow.

"You're both warriors I presume. But war is a tedious business—influence is the future. I'm giving you a role in it. Haoran, you're going to build us a martial arts dojo. A place to train fighters, raise influence, and create something lasting. Once the winter is over, you'll be at the head of it."

Haoran narrowed his eyes. "A dojo? You think teaching brats how to fight is a future?"

Zafira smirked. "Not just fighters—loyalists. A network. A foundation. One that ensures you, your wife, and your children remain valuable. Because the moment you stop being valuable, well…"

She let the silence linger, the implied threat hanging in the air.

Haoran exhaled sharply, but he said nothing. He wasn't a fool—he understood exactly what she was doing. But he also knew that, for now, playing along was the only move he had.

Zafira's smile didn't waver. "Good. You're learning."

She motioned forward. "Now, let's talk business. Your future starts today."

Zafira led them into a dimly lit chamber, a stark contrast to the cold halls outside. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, distorting their figures. She gestured for them to sit at a modest wooden table, where a carefully arranged set of documents awaited them.

Haoran and Renshu exchanged a glance before cautiously taking their seats. Zafira, however, remained standing, circling them like a predator assessing its prey.

"Loyalty is not given freely." she said, her tone almost conversational.

"It is built, tested, reinforced. And in your case? It will be ensured."

She placed a single sheet of parchment in front of Haoran. It was blank, save for one word at the top: Oath.

"I don't believe in blind trust." she continued.

"Which is why this agreement ensures your cooperation—not just with words, but with consequences."

Haoran's eyes flicked over the parchment before meeting hers. "A contract? You expect me to sign away my life?"

Zafira chuckled. "Not your life, Haoran. Your future. The dojo, your wife, your children—it all thrives under my protection. But the moment you step out of line, it all crumbles."

Renshu, silent until now, spoke up. "And if we refuse?"

Zafira leaned in, her fingers lightly tapping against the table—then, with a smooth motion, she reached into her coat and pulled out the gun. The cold metal glinted in the dim candlelight as she placed it gently on the table between them, her expression never shifting from that calculated smirk.

"You won't refuse." she said, her voice low, almost amused.

"Because you're not stupid. Because you know that without a place in my vision, your entire bloodline seize to exist. And because, Haoran—" she slid the gun forward an inch "—I don't make idle threats."

Haoran's eyes flicked to the weapon, his jaw clenching. Renshu remained eerily still, though her fingers were shivering

"Do you really want your legacy to be that of a man who once was?" Zafira continued, voice smooth as silk. "Or do you want to leave this room as a man who still has something left to build?" 

The weight of her words settled between them. Haoran clenched his fists, but he didn't argue.

She smiled, sensing his wavering resolve. "I won't break you, Haoran. I'll reshape you. You will still be a warrior, still be strong. But you will belong to something greater than yourself."

Haoran stared at the parchment, then at the gun, then back at Zafira, before exhaling a slow, measured breath. "How about a different kind of deal?"

Zafira arched a brow, intrigued. "Oh? Do entertain me."

Haoran leaned back slightly, his muscles relaxing, but his eyes gleamed with a sharpness that hadn't dulled despite their captivity.

"You say you want loyalty, but trust built on fear never lasts. If you're so sure of your control, fight me. No guns. No tricks. Just you and me. If I win, you let my family go. If you win, I'll sign your damn contract."

For the first time since the conversation began, Zafira blinked in mild surprise before tilting her head. Then, she chuckled. "A physical challenge? You do realize I'm not some frail merchant woman, don't you?"

"And I'm not just some warrior who only knows how to swing a sword," Haoran countered.

"Or are you afraid you'll lose?"

Zafira's smirk widened. "You really think taunting me will work? Cute." She slid the gun back into her coat, standing straight.

"Fine. Let's play your little game. But when I win, I expect you to be a man of your word."

Haoran cracked his knuckles, rising to his feet. "Oh, I always am. The real question is—are you?"

Zafira simply gestured toward the open space at the center of the chamber.

"Let's find out."

Before Haoran could move, a slow, deliberate clap echoed from the doorway. A woman stepped inside, her presence a silent but commanding force. She was dressed in sleek, dark attire, a stark contrast to Zafira's more refined look. Her hair was tied back neatly, sharp brown eyes glinting with amusement as she observed the two opponents.

"Oh Haoran" she drawled, her voice smooth as silk, yet carrying an edge of cold amusement.

"Do you even know who you just challenged?"

Haoran narrowed his eyes. "And you are?"

The woman smirked, crossing her arms as she leaned casually against the doorframe. "Jun." she said. "Ezra's personal blade. Her most trusted assassin. The one who makes problems disappear. And you, my dear dumbass, have just issued a challenge to Ezra, the Queen of the Underworld."

Haoran's breath hitched. His mind scrambled through every name, every legend, every whispered rumour from the darker corners of the world. And then it clicked.

His jaw tightened. He had made a mistake.

His mind raced for a way out. "You know, on second thought," Haoran started, raising a hand, "maybe we were too hasty with this whole 'fight' idea. Honey, back me up here."

Renshu, who had been quietly calculating their survival rate, nodded sagely. "Yes, yes. It would be unwise to damage such an important business relationship. Perhaps… a different kind of negotiation is in order?"

Zafira's smirk deepened as she tilted her head. "Oh? Are you saying you suddenly don't want to fight me? That's disappointing. I was looking forward to it."

Haoran coughed. "No, no, it's not that. It's just that—uh, well, I wouldn't want to accidentally hurt someone as important as you. Bad optics, you know? Wouldn't want to ruin your reputation."

Jun snorted from the doorway. "That's cute. You actually think you'd land a hit?"

Haoran ignored her, pressing forward. "So let's say we restructure the terms—maybe an arm-wrestling contest instead? Or, hear me out, what if we test loyalty through a cooking competition? I make an excellent stir-fry."

Zafira raised an eyebrow. "You're stalling."

"I absolutely am," Haoran admitted. "Is it working?"

"No."

And with that, Zafira casually rolled up her sleeves, stepping onto the sparring floor. It was only then that Haoran realized, in their back-and-forth, they had already walked into the open space.

Renshu sighed. "Well. That failed spectacularly."

Haoran exhaled. "Yeah. I was really hoping she'd go for the cooking contest."

Zafira rolled her shoulders, then unfastened her coat, tossing it to the side.

"Since I'm such a generous person, I'll even give you an advantage."

She raised her hand, signalling towards Jun without looking. Jun bowed and stepped toward the far end of the chamber, pushing multiple boxes and revealing an impressive arsenal of weapons—each one polished, sharpened, and very much real.

Heavy swords, longswords, spears, staffs, daggers, throwing knives, chain whips, and even a massive battle-axe gleamed under the dim candlelight. The sheer variety of lethal instruments could outfit a small army.

Renshu let out a long, slow whistle. "That's… an excessive amount of murder options."

Haoran tensed. "Why do you have all this?"

Zafira smirked. "For moments like this."

Jun crossed her arms, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Pick your poison, become a warlord."

Haoran eyed the selection carefully. The weapons weren't for show—each one was made for actual combat. He reached out, testing the weight of a broadsword, then glanced toward Zafira.

"And what will you be using?"

Zafira shrugged, showing her fist. "This."

Haoran frowned. "Your hand?"

Jun chuckled. "She doesn't need anything else."

Renshu leaned stood beside Jun now and said "I feel like we've walked into an elaborate execution."

Haoran gritted his teeth and took a stance. "No turning back now."

Jun leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching with clear amusement. "Try not to die too fast."

The fight began in an instant.

Haoran surged forward, his broadsword slicing through the air with deadly force. The sheer weight behind his first swing alone would have cleaved through flesh and bone—had it connected.

But Zafira was already gone.

She moved with ghostlike precision, sidestepping at the last possible moment. The wind of Haoran's missed strike rippled through her coat, but she was untouched.

Haoran barely had time to reset before she closed the distance, launching a brutal palm strike aimed straight for his ribs. He barely twisted in time, her knuckles grazing his side—yet even that slight touch sent a jarring shockwave through his torso.

She's fast.

He ground his heels into the floor, stabilizing himself, and swung again—this time using the momentum of his first failed strike to feint before shifting his stance. The blade came down in a calculated arc, aimed at where she should have dodged.

Except she didn't dodge.

Instead, Zafira stepped in—right into his guard—and caught his wrist mid-swing.

The impact sent a crack through the chamber as their strength clashed. Haoran's eyes widened as he felt the iron grip locking his sword arm in place.

"Too slow!" she murmured before twisting his wrist just enough to throw his balance off. He had no choice but to step back to regain footing.

And that was all she needed.

Zafira struck. A knee to the gut—sharp, precise, devastating. The force sent Haoran skidding backward, boots scraping against the stone.

Renshu winced. "Yeah, this was a bad idea."

Haoran coughed, shaking off the pain. "That all you got?"

Zafira rolled her shoulders, smirking. "Not even close."

She lunged.

Haoran raised his sword just in time to intercept her first strike—a barehanded blow against the flat of his blade—but the moment of relief was short-lived. Zafira's other fist slammed into his shoulder, sending a shockwave of pain down his arm. His grip faltered for just a second.

And in that second, she ripped the broadsword from his grasp.

The heavy weapon clattered to the floor as Haoran barely managed to roll away, heart pounding.

Jun let out a low whistle. "Oof. That's embarrassing."

Haoran scowled. "Shut up."

Zafira twirled her fingers, motioning for him to get up. "Come now, warlord. You made the challenge. Try to make this worth my time."

Haoran clenched his jaw. If brute strength wasn't enough, then he'd simply push his limits. He took a deep breath, focusing his Qi into his arms, his legs—his sword. The air around him shifted, a subtle hum of power resonating through the steel as he gripped the hilt. His next strike would be faster, stronger, deadlier.

Jun's smirk faded slightly. "Oh? He's actually using Qi now."

Renshu exhaled sharply. "Good. Maybe this won't be so one-sided."

Haoran didn't waste another second. He launched forward, his Qi-infused broadsword slicing through the air with enough force to split a big stone. The ground beneath him cracked as he pushed off, his speed nearly double what it had been before.

But Zafira didn't flinch.

The instant his sword came down, she moved.

Not to dodge. To meet it.

With nothing but her fist.

The moment of impact was deafening.

Zafira's Qi-reinforced fist collided with the edge of Haoran's Qi-empowered broadsword. A shockwave exploded outward, sending dust and debris flying. Renshu had to brace herself, her hair whipping violently from the force, while Jun merely stood and amazed, her eyes reflecting the chaos.

For a split second, it seemed like a deadlock.

Then, the sword shattered.

Not just cracked—shattered. Fragments of metal burst outward, glowing briefly before embedding themselves into the surrounding stone walls.

The next thing anyone registered was Haoran himself.

His entire body launched backward, as if struck by an elephant. He slammed into the chamber wall with enough force to cave it inward, stone crumbling around him as cracks splintered out like a spiderweb.

Silence followed, save for the settling debris.

Renshu's lips parted slightly. "...That's not possible."

Jun crossed her arms, looking far too entertained.

"Oh, it's very possible. You just underestimated how powerful she is. She has trained with master martial artists, mastered about 100 techniques and trained under Qi Masters as well"

Haoran groaned from the crater he had made, barely managing to pry himself out of the rubble. His vision was swimming, his body aching, but the worst part?

Zafira hadn't even broken a sweat.

She sighed, tilting her head as she approached the rubble where Haoran struggled to get up. "Disappointing." she mused, her tone devoid of sympathy.

"I expected more from a so-called warlord."

Haoran spat blood onto the cracked floor, his breath laboured but defiant.

"Go to hell."

Zafira's boot slammed down on his chest, pinning him against the wreckage with unrelenting force. He gritted his teeth as a fresh wave of pain shot through his ribs.

She crouched slightly, her gaze sharp and piercing. "You want to know the difference between us, Haoran? You think strength is swinging a sword harder, pushing yourself past your limits. But true power..." Her fingers dug into his jaw, forcing him to meet her eyes. "...is making others submit before the fight even begins."

She let go abruptly, standing tall. "Get up."

Haoran wheezed, trying to push himself up, but the moment he moved, Zafira's fist crashed into his stomach, the force from it alone would've knock anyone. A sickening thud echoed through the chamber as Haoran doubled over, coughing violently.

"Get up." she ordered again, stepping back just enough to give him space.

Haoran's arms trembled as he forced himself to his feet. His body screamed for him to stay down, but he refused. He had faced death before—he would not kneel.

Zafira watched him with a glint of amusement. ''I like that. Let's see how long that lasts."

Before he could react, she moved again—a blur of precision and force. Her palm slammed into his ribs, a strike so perfectly placed that it sent a shockwave through his body. Haoran barely stayed on his feet, his vision flickering, his balance unsteady.

Renshu, who had been silent until now, took a small step forward. "Lady Ezra, he's had enough—"

Zafira didn't even glance at her. "No. He hasn't learned yet."

Jun smiled like a pyscho from her spot by the doorway. "This is fun!"

Zafira grabbed Haoran by the collar, pulling him forward until their faces were inches apart.

"You're not walking away from this fight as a warrior. You're walking away as my soldier. My weapon. My asset."

She released him, only to deliver a final, devastating strike to his sternum. The impact rattled his bones, and this time, Haoran couldn't stop himself from crumbling to his knees.

Zafira exhaled, shaking her wrist as if shaking off dust. "Now. Have I made myself clear?"

Haoran coughed, his breath ragged. He wanted to curse her, to fight back—but his body refused.

Renshu rushed towards her beat up husband, looking between them, then slowly lowered her gaze. "...Crystal."

Zafira gave a satisfied nod. "Good. Then let's talk about your obedience."

Before Haoran could even process his defeat, Jun casually strolled forward, pulling a rolled parchment from her coat. With a flourish, she unfurled the contract on a nearby table, the inked letters gleaming under the dim candlelight.

"Right on schedule." Jun said cheerfully, setting an ornate quill beside it.

"Sign here, ''warlord''. Your wife can co-sign if she likes."

Renshu, still kneeling beside her battered husband, let out a long sigh before standing. She snatched the quill without hesitation, dipped it in ink, and signed the contract with a single, fluid stroke.

Haoran groaned. "Betrayed by my own wife."

Renshu patted his head gently, with sympathy in her voice. "You picked this fight."

Zafira smirked, arms crossed. "Your wife is a smart woman."

Just then, the heavy doors swung open with a loud creak, revealing an exasperated Emery storming in, his coat slightly dishevelled. He held bandages, salves, and a medicinal herbs under one arm, his glasses slightly askew.

"What in the name of logic and reason is going on here?" Emery snapped.

"I heard a damn explosion from upstairs! I leave for one hour, and you're breaking people?"

He stomped over to Haoran, already inspecting his injuries with sharp, clinical efficiency. "Damaged ribs, heavy bruising, possible internal damage—honestly, Zafira, must you destroy everything?"

Jun smirked. "I think it builds character."

"It builds my workload!" Emery grumbled, already pulling out salves.

"Now, stay still, Haoran, or I'll make sure the treatment hurts more than the fight."

His sharp gaze flickered to Haoran's other injury—the gunshot wound on his thigh that had been patched up by Emery "At least it's healing or was since, I don't know before you went and got yourself slammed through a wall?"

Haoran groaned. "I was a bit preoccupied."

Emery's glare shifted to Zafira. "And you. Did you really have to go this hard on him?"

Zafira blinked, feigning innocence. "He wanted it."