Of Hunters and Immortals

By the time the sun rose the next day, Jiang would have done just about anything to escape the awkward atmosphere.

After he had completed the Pact and broken through, Old Nan's brief foray into lucidity had rapidly faded into confusion and mumbling. Lin had quietly guided her back to bed, and afterwards the two of them had spent the rest of the night sitting uncomfortably around the dying fire, exchanging no more than a handful of words. Lin was clearly struggling with the revelation that he was a cultivator – never mind the bizarre story about Pacts and ravens – and Jiang had no idea what to say to ease the tension.

He couldn't exactly blame her, after all – this whole thing about Pacts and Patrons and ancient wars was pretty crazy. At least he had the benefit of actually being a cultivator. However little he knew about Qi and spirit beasts, he was willing to wager it was more than a street rat from Qinghe.

Still, when he'd gathered up his now-dry clothes and awkwardly muttered something about breakfast, Lin had quietly followed him out the door, so he figured she couldn't be too upset about the whole thing. To be perfectly honest, that was more relieving than he'd expected. Jiang wasn't the type to make friends easily – and honestly, Lin probably couldn't be considered a friend – but she was the only person he knew in Qinghe that didn't have an agenda concerning him.

Besides wanting to use him to get rich, but that hardly even counted when compared to whatever plans the Broker, Mistress Bai, or even Old Nan herself had for him.

They walked in silence for a while, the sounds of the waking city a dull roar around them. Jiang was focused on his own thoughts, turning over Old Nan's words, trying to make sense of the strange new currents in his Qi. He was so lost in it that he was startled when Lin finally spoke.

"Alright, I can't do this anymore," she said, stopping so abruptly he almost walked past her. She planted her hands on her hips, fixing him with a stare that was equal parts frustration and something else he couldn't quite name. "I think you owe me an explanation now."

Part of Jiang instinctively recoiled at the idea of sharing his secrets with her, but… well, she already knew most of the potentially damaging stuff anyway. Telling her the rest wasn't going to change much.

"A few months ago, I was a hunter living in a small village called Liǔxī," he began, voice flat and stripped of emotion. "Some bandits attacked. I thought they were the Hollow Fang, but I've learned that they don't actually exist…" he trailed off, then shook his head. "That doesn't matter right now. The point is that my family was taken. My mother and my sister. I was able to track the bandits, but couldn't… I couldn't save them. So I went to get help."

It got easier the more he spoke. He told her about his desperate race to Wúyè, his first encounter with Elder Lu. He told her about finding the massive feather deep in the woods, how he became a cultivator. The Sect, with the constant duels, and why he left – because waiting felt like the same as giving up. He told her about meeting Han, about how the Broker was his only hope at getting the information he needed.

Lin listened without interruption, her expression shifting from aggressive curiosity to wide-eyed shock, and finally settling into a grim, calculating stillness. The sheer scale of what he was telling her seemed to suck the air out from around them.

In fairness, all laid out like this it sounded much more impressive than it actually was.

When he finished, she didn't speak for a long time. Finally, she sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I should probably run screaming right now," she muttered. "Cultivators, kidnappings, and… weird spirit birds. It's all crazy. But you're still paying me a silver a day, right?"

Jiang blinked, slightly thrown. "Yes?"

"Good," she said decisively. "Then I'm staying. At least for now." She held up a finger, narrowing her eyes. "But let's make one thing clear – I'm your guide, not your friend, and definitely not your sidekick. You start growing feathers or this mess gets any crazier, and I'm gone."

Despite her harsh words, Jiang caught the wary flicker behind her bravado. She knew this was dangerous, and any sensible person would probably already be gone. But silver spoke louder than caution – and desperation was louder still.

"Fair enough," Jiang said quietly, feeling an odd sense of gratitude.

Lin nodded once, firmly. "Good. Now let's go see this Broker. Sooner we get this over with, sooner I can pretend my life is still normal."

— — —

The faint, clean scent of sandalwood did little to cut through the tension in Jiang's shoulders. The Broker's office was unchanged from before: that same unnervingly tidy desk, that same wall of sealed drawers, and, of course, the Broker himself, sitting behind it like a spider in his web.

Lin had flatly refused to set foot in the tavern, let alone the secret office beneath it. Jiang couldn't blame her, but unfortunately, wasn't in a position to avoid it himself.

"I must admit," the Broker said, voice smooth and lightly amused, "I didn't expect such a… dramatic success. You certainly went above and beyond, didn't you – sinking an entire ship just to destroy a few crates of spices."

Jiang shifted uncomfortably in the chair across from him. "It seemed like the simplest way of doing things," he muttered.

"Indeed. And you did it quite thoroughly. Don't misunderstand me – I applaud your methods. You accomplished the task better than I could have asked for. No unnecessary deaths, no sign of direct involvement, and you even managed to vanish afterwards without raising suspicion. I'd call that elegant."

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The compliment made Jiang bristle slightly. There was something in the Broker's tone that made praise sound suspiciously like a trap.

True to his word, the Broker reached into one of the drawers and produced a small coin pouch. He slid it across the desk, the soft clink of silver barely audible over the scratch of his pen as he marked something in his ledger.

"Eighty silver, as agreed."

Jiang picked it up, weighing it briefly in his palm before tucking it away. Combined with what he had left – after paying Lin and covering a few nights at the Leaky Kettle – he was sitting just shy of ninety-two silver.

Gods. Had he really managed to spend eight silver since arriving in Qinghe? His family could have lived off that for years if they'd been even a little frugal, and he'd managed to piss it away in less than a week. Granted, things were more expensive in the city than they ever were in Liǔxī, but still. His mother had always said the more you have, the more you spend, but he'd never actually believed it before now.

In this particular case, being more careful with his finances wouldn't have actually made a difference – unless he had somehow managed to avoid spending any of the initial twenty silver, he would be just shy of the price for the information regardless.

He didn't bother asking for a discount. The Broker was many things – opportunistic, unsettling, and probably the kind of man who'd shake hands with a knife up his sleeve – but he wasn't the sort to haggle over sentiment. Jiang might have earned a bit of respect, or perhaps some caution, considering his status as a cultivator, but he hadn't earned charity.

He broke the silence that had settled between them, his voice as flat and practical as he could make it. "I'm still short," he stated simply. "I'll need another job to cover the rest."

The Broker's masked head tilted slightly, a gesture of mild, analytical curiosity. "Ah, yes. A minor shortfall. Unfortunate." He made a show of tapping a long, gloved finger against his ledger, as if consulting a list of available tasks. "This does put us in a difficult position. High-paying work that requires your… particular skills… is not always readily available. Discretion and power are a rare combination."

He paused, letting the implication hang in the air before continuing. "There is still the previous contract on Huo Jin," he said casually. "Though I must warn you, the opportunity may not be here for much longer. The Iron Dogs, savages that they are, are making some troubling moves, and the purpose of this contract is to prevent them. Once they have accomplished their goals, however… well, there simply wouldn't be any point in dealing with Huo Jin."

Jiang wasn't blind to the way the Broker was trying to make the task seem more palatable. It wasn't much of a leap for the man to assume that the nature of Jiang's distaste with the task was a moral one, and implying that the Iron Dogs were going to be causing trouble, presumably for innocent people, was a fairly transparent attempt at encouraging Jiang to accept the contract.

That didn't make it ineffective.

At the end of the day, it wasn't even so much that Jiang was opposed to the act of taking a life – it was a rare hunter indeed that didn't have any blood on his hands, and though it was usually that of an animals… well, as much as some people liked to pretend otherwise, the difference between taking an animal life and taking a human one was largely a matter of semantics.

Hells, he'd killed Kaelen without much hesitation, though, granted, the situation was a little different.

It was more the fact that it felt uncomfortably close to the work of the very bandits he was hunting. After all, they killed for profit, too – and though Jiang wouldn't be harming innocent people like they did... the line felt dangerously thin.

He stared at the polished surface of the desk, seeing the reflection of his own grim face. He could do it. He knew he could. The thought of his mother and sister was a hard stone in his gut, a weight that could justify any action. But once he stepped onto that path, could he ever step off?

Unless he found a third option.

"The one gold piece is for the full dossier," Jiang said slowly, looking up to meet the Broker's masked gaze. "I don't need all of it right now. How much for a starting point? A single name."

The Broker was still for a long moment. Jiang could feel the man's mind assessing this new angle, recalibrating the negotiation. Then, a low chuckle escaped him.

"A shrewd proposal," the Broker said, sounding somewhat begrudgingly impressed. "To break a large problem down into smaller, more manageable pieces. Very pragmatic." He leaned backwards in his chair and sighed. "Yes, a single piece of the puzzle could be arranged. But you must understand, information is a delicate commodity. Its value lies in its entirety and its exclusivity. Revealing one piece compromises the value of the rest. If I give you even one name, the rest of my information – painstakingly gathered, mind you – becomes significantly harder to sell."

"How much?" Jiang repeated, cutting through the man's philosophical lecture.

The Broker paused, considering. "Before we arrive at the matter of price, I should clarify which information packet you are interested in. Do you want the name of someone in the slave trade in Qinghe, or the name of a bandit group in the surrounding area?"

"The slaver," Jiang replied without hesitation.

The Broker gave a slow, knowing nod. "Ah. Seeking the roots rather than the rot on the branches. Sensible."

Jiang didn't respond. He was too focused on keeping his thoughts from slipping into anger. It wasn't that he'd forgiven the bandits who'd raided his home – far from it. But revenge was a luxury he couldn't afford right now. If there was even a chance his mother and sister were still alive, he needed to chase that. Every moment spent tracking down the raiders was a moment wasted if the real decision-makers were already two cities away, selling his family like livestock.

He could find the bandits later. Or maybe he wouldn't need to. If he was lucky, maybe this slaver would lead him straight to them anyway. And if not… well, he would burn that bridge when he got to it.

"I'm willing to part with this information," the Broker said slowly, "for the price of sixty silver. And no haggling, please – I'd hate for you to insult both of us."

Jiang's jaw tightened. That was almost everything he had. And the worst part was that he knew the Broker wasn't even wrong about the economics of it – if this panned out, he wouldn't need the rest of the information at all, which meant the Broker would be losing out on a potential sale.

He reached for his coin pouch and began counting out the silver. Hesitation would get him nowhere. Action, even costly action, was all he had left. When the last of the silver hit the desk, Jiang sat back, trying not to visibly wince at how light his pouch had become.

The Broker, ever the professional, gathered the coins without a word and swept them into the depths of his desk.

"The man you are looking for is known as Liang Shen, though that isn't his real name. He deals in people – quietly, of course, as Qinghe would never condone such a thing publicly. He usually operates out of the old warehouse on the docks."

The Broker reached into a drawer without looking and retrieved a sealed parchment. Jiang noted it was already prepared, the wax seal unbroken but clearly cooled. The Broker had anticipated this request.

Of course he had.

With a theatrical air, he slid the sealed parchment across the polished surface toward Jiang.

"No copies exist," he said. "So don't misplace it. You'll want to be careful, by the way. Liang Shen has powerful friends. He is not a man who can be taken down by force alone… not without consequence."

"I'm not planning on taking him down," Jiang said, tucking the parchment into his sleeve. "I just need to know what he knows."

"Of course," the Broker said, the corners of his mouth lifting beneath the mask. "That's how it always starts."