54. An Instigation

(A few days later, City Lord's Mansion in Golden Prosperity City)

The night was thick with silence, save for the occasional rustling of leaves in the courtyard. The moonlight barely touched the towering walls of the City Lord's mansion, swallowed by the shadows cast by its imposing structure. Inside, the dim glow of lanterns illuminated the study where Liu Zhan sat, hunched over a pile of documents, his expression one of frustration.

His brush scratched against the paper, but his mind was elsewhere. The city was crumbling under the weight of war, and the so-called rulers who had marched in to claim it were nothing more than opportunistic jackals. He exhaled sharply, reaching for a cup of tea that had long gone cold.

"You seem troubled, Lord Liu."

Liu Zhan's fingers twitched, knocking over the cup as he jerked upright, his eyes snapping toward the source of the voice. By the window, where there had been nothing but empty air a moment ago, stood a woman cloaked in shadows.

Li Xue.

His pulse steadied as recognition dawned. He let out a slow breath and leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharp despite the weariness lining his face. "You have a habit of entering places uninvited."

Li Xue smirked as she stepped closer, her movements fluid and unhurried. "And you have a habit of letting others trample over you." She glanced at the documents scattered across his desk. "Tell me, how does it feel to be the City Lord in name only?"

Liu Zhan's expression darkened, but he didn't rise to the provocation. Instead, he picked up a fresh cup, poured himself tea, and took a measured sip. "If you've come to mock me, you've wasted your time. I assume you have something worth saying."

Li Xue tilted her head, considering him. The rogue cultivator who had seized this position by force now found himself caged within his own city. Amusing.

"You are aware, of course, that the allied forces left behind a garrison," she said, running her fingers along the edge of the table. "They control the outposts, the trade routes, and most of the military presence in Golden Prosperity City. Yet they do not control you."

Liu Zhan let out a dry chuckle. "Control? They don't need to control me. They simply ignore me. The Jing and Zheng families play at being conquerors, but they don't see me as a threat." His jaw tightened. "They come and go as they please, enforce their own laws, and act as if this city was always theirs. Meanwhile, the people suffer."

Li Xue's gaze sharpened. "So why do you allow it?"

Liu Zhan met her eyes, his expression unreadable. "I do not have the forces to drive them out, nor the support of the people. If I openly defy them, I'll be dead by morning." He exhaled through his nose, his frustration barely concealed. "This is not a battle I can win through brute force."

Li Xue hummed thoughtfully. "Then perhaps it is a battle you win through something else." She leaned forward, her voice dropping slightly. "The garrison is not as strong as they appear. There are fractures between the Jing and Zheng forces, mistrust festering beneath the surface. The Jian family's remnants are too weak to act alone. Their hold on the city is tenuous at best."

Liu Zhan narrowed his eyes. "And why are you telling me this?"

"Because," Li Xue said smoothly, "while you are no match for them in strength, you are still the City Lord. And that means something. The people look to you, whether they admit it or not. If you move against the garrison, even subtly, others will follow."

Liu Zhan studied her for a long moment. "You want me to act as your pawn."

Li Xue smirked. "No. I want you to act as a ruler." She straightened, the faintest edge of challenge in her voice. "Or are you content to remain their pet, waiting for the day they decide you are no longer useful?"

Liu Zhan's grip on his cup tightened, but he said nothing.

Li Xue turned toward the window. "Think about it, Lord Liu. You may not have the numbers, but you still have something they lack. Loyalty." She glanced back at him one last time. "Decide what you want to be before they decide for you."

And then, as silently as she had come, she was gone, leaving Liu Zhan staring at the empty space where she had stood.

Liu Zhan remained seated long after Li Xue had vanished into the night. His fingers tapped against the wooden surface of the desk, his mind a storm of thoughts.

She had spoken as if it were simple, as if a single decision could shift the tides in his favor. But power did not come so easily. He had seized the title of City Lord through strength, yet now he sat in his own home like a caged beast while others carved up his city.

The remnants of the Jian family had been the weakest of the allied forces from the beginning. They were barely holding on, reduced to a pathetic shadow of what they once were. And yet, they still clung to power like rats gnawing on scraps.

His grip tightened around the brush in his hand. If he was going to take back control, he needed to start somewhere.

Killing them outright was a risk, one that could turn the alliance's full attention toward him. But if they were removed under the right circumstances… if their deaths could be turned into a spark that ignited suspicion between the others… then he could begin to unravel the fragile unity that held them together.

He let out a slow breath, leaning back in his chair.

The Zheng and Jing families didn't trust each other. Their alliance was one of convenience, held together only by their common enemy, the Bai family. It wouldn't take much to make them turn on each other.

A smile ghosted across Liu Zhan's lips.

Yes. He would kill the remnants of the Jian family, and the blame would fall on the Zheng family. The Jing family would see it as a betrayal, and before long, their forces would be at each other's throats.

But he couldn't do it alone. He needed mercenaries, disposable hands that would not trace back to him.

With a flick of his wrist, he pulled out a blank sheet of paper and began to write.

Within the next two days, he would quietly arrange for a group of killers, ones with no ties to the city, to eliminate every last survivor of the Jian family. The attack would be brutal, chaotic, and most importantly, unmistakably the work of a rival force. He would plant enough evidence to lead the Jing family toward the conclusion he wanted them to reach.

And then? He would watch the alliance crumble from within.

A dark chuckle escaped his lips as he folded the paper.

Let the wolves tear each other apart. He would be the last one standing.

…

The outpost stood at the northern edge of Golden Prosperity City, a former Bai Family stronghold now under the control of the Jian remnants. It was a sturdy structure, thick stone walls reinforced with wooden barricades, manned by weary but determined soldiers.

The Jian family had fought hard to claim this position, but compared to the other families in the alliance, their numbers were pitiful. While the Zheng and Jing families had the bulk of the forces, the Jian family's remnants were scattered, barely holding together under the weight of their losses. Still, they had their pride. They had bled for this city, and they would not relinquish their foothold so easily.

But pride alone would not be enough.

The attack came in the dead of night.

A chilling wind swept through the outpost as the sentries on the walls huddled near their torches, eyes scanning the darkness. They never saw the assassins coming.

Silent figures emerged from the shadows, scaling the walls like wraiths. The first sentry barely had time to let out a strangled gasp before a blade slit his throat. Blood sprayed onto the stone as he crumpled. One by one, the guards fell in eerie silence, their deaths unnoticed by those below.

Then, the first explosion shattered the night.

A blast of fire erupted near the main gate, sending shrapnel and smoke into the air. The Jian soldiers inside jolted awake, scrambling for weapons, their shouts of alarm ringing out across the outpost.

Before they could react, the mercenaries struck.

Dark-clad killers poured through the breached gate, blades flashing in the firelight. They moved with ruthless efficiency, cutting down the unprepared Jian soldiers before they could form a proper defense.

Inside the command room, a handful of Jian officers hastily donned their armor. Their leader, a grizzled veteran who had survived too many battles, slammed his fist on the table.

"We're under attack! Rally the men! push them back!"

His words were met with the deafening sound of another explosion as a section of the outpost wall collapsed.

The battle descended into chaos.

Jian warriors fought desperately, but they were outnumbered and caught off guard. Swords clashed, arrows whistled through the air, and screams of pain mixed with the roar of the flames spreading through the camp.

Near the supply depot, a group of Jian soldiers formed a defensive line, holding back the attackers with sheer grit. One of them, a young officer with blood trickling down his face, shouted, "Hold the line! We just need to-"

His words were cut short as a spear impaled his chest, driving him to the ground.

Elsewhere, the mercenaries moved with grim precision, cutting down those who resisted and driving the survivors into a corner.

The veteran leader of the Jian remnants saw the writing on the wall. His men were falling, and escape was impossible. With a grimace, he raised his blade, preparing to die on his feet.

But the mercenary commander only smirked.

"We're not here for slaughter," he said. "We're here to send a message."

With a nod, his men pulled out several pre-prepared insignias, each bearing the mark of the Zheng family. The evidence was planted on the fallen soldiers, their bodies arranged to look like the aftermath of an internal betrayal. A set of forged orders, written in the style of the Zheng family's military correspondence, was carefully placed on the desk in the command room.

By the time the mercenaries faded back into the shadows, the outpost was in ruins. The last of the Jian soldiers lay dead, their corpses twisted in unnatural poses.

The next morning, when the allied forces came to check on their fallen comrades, they would not see a coordinated attack.

They would see a massacre and the undeniable signs of treachery.