23. A Deal and a Tail.

…

Lu Wenhai sat in his study, a cup of fine tea in his hand, steam curling lazily toward the ceiling. A stack of ledgers lay open before him, detailing shipments, debts, and bribes. These records of a business far more complex than the simple trade he presented to the world. His estate was his fortress, built on layers of deception, and he took pride in how few truly knew the extent of his reach.

A sudden knock interrupted his thoughts. Firm, hurried. A servant. Lu Wenhai placed his cup down with practiced ease and straightened slightly. "Enter."

The door creaked open, and a pale-faced servant stepped inside, bowing deeply before speaking. "Master, there is… a guest. He claims he has business with you."

Lu Wenhai raised an eyebrow. "A guest?"

The servant hesitated, glancing toward the door as if to ensure no one else was listening. "He… walked in through the front gates."

Lu Wenhai's expression darkened slightly. "And?"

"The guards didn't let him pass," the servant said, voice lowering. "They are dead."

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, Lu Wenhai exhaled through his nose, as if mildly inconvenienced rather than alarmed. He leaned back, tapping a finger against the lacquered surface of his desk. "Describe him."

"He looks like a beggar, young but… composed. Too composed. He didn't sneak in. He walked in, cut down the guards, and when the servants questioned him, he simply said he was here for business."

Lu Wenhai chuckled, a slow, knowing sound. "A beggar with the audacity to kill my men and demand a meeting?" His eyes gleamed with amusement, but beneath that, something colder lurked. "Interesting."

The servant swallowed. "Shall we drive him out?"

Lu Wenhai shook his head, standing from his seat with practiced grace. "No. If he wanted to sneak in, he would have. If he wanted to kill his way through, he could have continued." He smoothed the sleeves of his robe, a smirk playing at his lips. "Someone like that doesn't walk in blindly. He has something to offer, or something to take."

He gestured toward the door. "Bring him in."

The servant hesitated for only a second before bowing and hurrying out. Lu Wenhai took a slow sip of his tea, savoring the taste, then set the cup down with a quiet clink.

"Let's see what kind of business this beggar brings."

…

Mo Tian stepped into the lavish study, his small frame seemingly out of place among the fine furnishings and the faint scent of expensive tea. Lu Wenhai sat behind his desk, eyes sharp and calculating, studying the boy with an amused yet wary expression. For a few silent seconds, neither spoke, one measuring the weight of the other, gauging intent beneath the surface. Then, a slow smirk formed on Lu Wenhai's lips as he finally broke the silence. Lu Wenhai leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping idly against the armrest, his calculating gaze fixed on the boy before him. "You've certainly made an entrance," he mused, his voice laced with amusement. "Not many people stroll into my estate uninvited. Fewer still leave alive after killing my guards."

Mo Tian met his gaze without flinching. "I thought a man of your reputation would appreciate efficiency. I saved you the trouble of employing men who weren't capable of stopping a single 'beggar.'"

Lu Wenhai chuckled, shaking his head. "You have nerve. But nerve alone doesn't get you far in this world. Now, tell me why I shouldn't have my men cut you down where you stand."

Mo Tian smirked. "Because I know things, and I offer opportunities. War is chaos, but for those who know how to navigate it, war is also profit."

Lu Wenhai folded his hands together, intrigued but cautious. "You speak of profit, but I deal in certainty, not lofty promises. Why should I take you seriously?"

Mo Tian stepped forward, placing a small pouch on Lu Wenhai's desk. It hit the wood with a soft metallic chime. "A gift. A token of my sincerity."

Lu Wenhai arched a brow, opening the pouch. His eyes flickered with interest as he let a few coins slide into his palm. Gold. Minted from a private forge, untraceable and perfect for illicit dealings.

"Counterfeit currency?" Lu Wenhai mused, rolling a coin between his fingers. "Clever. But still, not enough."

Mo Tian sat down across from him, unbothered. "That's just the beginning. I have access to supply lines, intelligence networks, and certain… services. You have connections, influence, and an untarnished public reputation. We could complement each other."

Lu Wenhai's smile was measured. "You assume I need you."

"I assume you need more than what you have," Mo Tian countered smoothly. "Your business thrives in times of stability. But with war at your doorstep, you're vulnerable. You need new avenues, new ways to secure power. I provide that."

Lu Wenhai studied him for a long moment. "And what do you want in return?"

Mo Tian leaned forward, his expression unreadable. "A partnership. Resources. A foothold in your operations. You let me handle the shadows, while you maintain your clean reputation."

Lu Wenhai exhaled, weighing the offer. "You expect me to trust you?"

Mo Tian chuckled. "I expect you to be smart. We both know trust is a luxury men like us can't afford. But mutual benefit? That's something we can work with."

Lu Wenhai's fingers drummed against the desk once more, considering. "And if I refuse?"

Mo Tian shrugged. "Then I take my business elsewhere. But tell me—how long before someone else seizes the opportunities you ignore? How long before your competitors edge you out, before a faction stronger than you decides you're in the way?"

Lu Wenhai sighed, rubbing his temple. "You're a dangerous little thing, aren't you?"

Mo Tian only smiled. "I prefer the term 'resourceful.'"

Silence stretched between them before Lu Wenhai finally spoke again. "Very well. I'll consider your proposal. But be warned, boy. if you ever try to cross me, I'll make sure you regret it."

Mo Tian stood, his smirk unwavering. "Likewise, Lu Wenhai. Likewise."

After working out the details, the deal was set. Mu Tian left his seat and returned to the Slums.

In the shadows something had stirred. And the war would soon become even more profitable.

(3 Months later, somewhere secret in the Slums outside Golden Prosperity City)

The air in the dimly lit alley was thick with the scent of damp wood and rotting food. A single lantern flickered between two figures, one cloaked in fine black robes, the other draped in rags, yet sitting with an air of authority. The contrast between them was stark, yet in this moment, they were merely two men conducting business.

The Jian Family envoy, a middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a calculating gaze, crossed his arms. "I trust you understand the delicacy of this request," he said, keeping his voice low. Then he shoved a paper in the hands of the beggar leader "This elder of the Zheng Family, he needs to disappear."

The beggar leader smirked, his dirt-streaked face betraying none of his thoughts. "Disappearance has a price. And Zheng elders… they don't vanish easily."

The envoy scoffed. "Don't play games. Name your price."

The beggar leader leaned back against the wall, stretching lazily. "A job like this isn't a simple knife in the dark. Zheng elders walk with guards, sleep behind reinforced walls, and suspect everything. This isn't some merchant whose throat we can slit in an alley."

He held up a single dirty finger. "First, we need time. Rushing it only makes a mess. Two weeks at minimum to study his habits."

Another finger. "Second, it's going to take a specialist. You don't want some fool getting caught halfway through. And specialists… well, they don't come cheap."

A third finger. "Lastly, once he's dead, there will be an investigation. People will start looking. I assume you don't want this traced back to you?"

The Jian envoy's lips curled in annoyance. "Obviously."

"Then you're not just paying for an assassination," the beggar leader said, tapping his fingers against the wooden crate beside him. "You're paying for silence, misdirection, and a clean escape. That costs."

The envoy's fingers twitched, but he kept his composure. "How much?"

The beggar leader grinned. "Fifty thousand taels."

A scoff. "Ridiculous."

The beggar leader shrugged. "Then go find some amateur with a rusty blade and see how that works out for you."

The envoy exhaled sharply. "Twenty thousand."

The beggar leader snorted. "That wouldn't even cover the funeral expenses of the fool you'd send after him."

"Thirty-five thousand."

The beggar leader tilted his head. "Forty-five. Final offer."

The envoy hesitated, but he knew time was against him. If the Zheng elder lived too long, their entire plan could fall apart. He ground his teeth. "Fine. But if the job isn't done cleanly…"

"It will be." The beggar leader's grin widened.

"Pleasure doing business."

They shook hands, and with that, the deal was sealed.

The Jian envoy pulled his cloak tighter around himself as he stepped out of the alley, the stench of the slums clinging to him like an unwelcome guest. His steps were brisk but controlled, his mind replaying the conversation over and over. "Forty-five thousand taels… Damn beggars think they're nobles now."

Still, he had what he came for. Now, he only needed to return to his family estate and inform the elders that the wheels were in motion. As he moved through the narrow streets, he glanced around subtly. The slums were filled with eyes, and though most belonged to common beggars and vagrants, he knew better than to assume he wasn't being watched.

With a final glance over his shoulder, he merged into the main street and disappeared into the night.

…

Back in the shadows of the slums, the beggar leader remained seated for a few moments after the envoy left, lazily scratching at the grime on his arm as if entirely unbothered. But beneath his casual exterior, his mind was already in motion.

He stood, stretched, and without a word, slipped into the darkness of a nearby alley. His movements were slow at first, unhurried, as if he had no real destination. But the moment he turned a corner, his pace changed.

Left. Right. Another left. A quick detour through a side passage, ducking under torn sheets strung between walls. He passed by a group of beggars gathered around a fire, barely sparing them a glance as he weaved deeper into the labyrinthine backstreets.

Then he slowed.

He took a sharp breath, listening.

"No footsteps. No breathing in the surroundings."

Still, he wasn't careless. He took three more detours, through an old butcher's yard, across a crumbling bridge over a dried-up canal, and finally, through the back entrance of an abandoned tailor's shop.

Only then did he step up to his true destination, an old wooden house, long forgotten by the city. Its walls were weathered, and its windows were boarded up. The roof sagged slightly, threatening collapse, but the foundation remained firm.

He knocked twice. Paused. Knocked again.

A faint rustling came from within before the door creaked open just enough for a single eye to peek through the gap.

The beggar leader grinned. "Open up. We have work to do."

The door swung open, and he stepped inside, vanishing into the building.

Mo Tian sat at the center of the dimly lit room, his presence calm yet commanding. The flickering oil lamp on the wooden table cast long shadows across the walls, giving the place an eerie stillness. Around him, a few beggars murmured among themselves, their voices hushed, but as soon as the beggar leader entered, he lifted a hand, silencing them instantly.

The beggar leader strode forward, pulling a folded paper from his sleeve and sliding it across the table. "The Jian envoy. Forty-five thousand taels for the head of a Zheng elder." His tone was even, but there was a note of satisfaction hidden beneath it.

Mo Tian didn't reach for the paper immediately. Instead, his sharp eyes remained fixed on the beggar leader. He studied him carefully, the way he stood, the faint sheen of sweat at his temples, the way his fingers tapped idly against his leg. He had done well. Almost.

Almost.

"You were followed," Mo Tian said calmly.

The beggar leader stiffened, his fingers ceasing their rhythm. "Impossible. I checked every route."

Mo Tian finally reached out and took the paper, but his attention remained on the leader. "Not well enough." His voice was even, but the words carried weight. "There's still someone outside. They aren't moving. They've been there since you arrived."

A flicker of unease crossed the beggar leader's face, but he quickly schooled his features into neutrality. "You sure?"

Mo Tian didn't answer. Instead, he leaned back slightly, fingers tapping against the paper as he closed his eyes for a brief moment. Then he exhaled softly.

"There," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "One street over, behind the collapsed cart. They're listening."

The beggar leader cursed under his breath, his muscles tensing. He had been careful, damn it. But Mo Tian's words weren't the kind to be ignored. If he said someone was out there, then someone was out there.

"What do you want to do?" the beggar leader asked, his voice dropping low.

Mo Tian unfolded the paper and skimmed its contents, taking in the details of the assassination request with an unreadable expression. Then, slowly, he folded it back and tucked it away.

He turned his gaze to the beggars around the room, his voice carrying an unmistakable authority. "Deal with it."

Without hesitation, a few figures melted into the shadows, slipping out through hidden exits in near silence. The beggar leader watched them go, then turned back to Mo Tian.

"You're sure they won't talk?"

Mo Tian smirked. "By the time we're done, they won't be able to."

The room fell silent once more, the weight of what was to come hanging in the air.