Of Hunters and Immortals

Lin stared at Jiang, casually perched on the edge of the roof as he tracked the thug who'd just tried to jump him. She opened her mouth, a dozen scathing remarks about the stupidity of his plan fighting for release, but she bit them back.

She'd been in a similar situation once, a few years ago – cornered by a few idiots from a gang that had since been wiped out. They hadn't even been much older than she was, but it had been one of the scariest moments of her life as they shoved her up against a wall – and if it hadn't been for a couple of members of the city watch randomly passing by, she shuddered to think what could have happened.

But Jiang hadn't seemed concerned in the least. The people he was picking a fight with were far more dangerous than she'd ever faced, but… they barely even registered as threats to him. Lin had no idea how much of that was because he was a cultivator, and how much of it was because he was an idiot – but either way, she desperately wanted some of that easy confidence for herself.

Then again, if she went her whole life without seeing another raven crawling out of the darkness and melting into someone's chest, it would still be too soon. Even now, she caught herself warily checking the nearby shadows, to say nothing of the revelations about Old Nan.

"So what's your plan when he goes into the warehouse?" she asked, mostly to take her mind off… things. "You're not going to be able to track him from up here."

"I'll sneak in," Jiang shrugged casually.

Lin stared at him incredulously for a moment, debating whether it was even worth asking how, exactly, he was planning on sneaking into a busy place in broad daylight. Honestly, though, there probably wasn't much point in saying anything – she was learning that once Jiang set his mind on a reckless course of action, arguing was like shouting at a rock. The rock didn't care, and you just ended up looking like an idiot.

"Fine," she finally bit out. "You go kick the hornet's nest. I'm staying up here where I can run." She jabbed a finger towards a crumbling section of parapet two buildings over. "I'll keep pace from over there. Try not to get stabbed before I see you again."

Without waiting for a reply, she was moving, flowing smoothly across the rooftops. This was her territory, the one place in this city she felt truly safe. Other street rats and criminals used the rooftops, sure, but none as much as her. She found a good vantage point that gave her a clear view of the alley Jiang was descending into.

He moved well, she had to give him that. He slid down the drainpipe without a sound, his boots landing softly on the cobblestones. Considering he'd apparently been a hunter a few months ago, he seemed to have picked up navigating through a city rather quickly.

He let the thug get half a street ahead before he stepped out of the alley. And then, he did that… thing.

Lin leaned forward, squinting, trying to understand what she was seeing. One moment, Jiang was a solid, distinct figure against the grey cobblestones. The next, he was… less. He was still there, she knew he was, but her eyes just didn't want to focus on him. The sharp lines of his form blurred, his colours muted, and he just… blended. He became another shape in the crowd, a piece of background noise her brain automatically chose to ignore.

She had to force herself to track him, to consciously keep her gaze locked on the space he occupied. Even then, she lost him twice, her attention snagged by a shouting merchant or a flash of colour from a passing cart, and when she looked back, he was just gone, only to reappear a few paces further on as her eyes readjusted.

Gods, she thought, a cold knot of envy twisting in her gut. She'd spent her entire life learning how to be invisible, honing the art of the quick glance, the soft step, the posture that screamed 'I'm not worth your time.' It was a skill, hard-won and paid for in years' worth of bruises and empty stomachs.

It had taken him, what, a few days? Hell, if that – he hadn't done it before that creepy raven had crawled into his chest, so for all she knew, this was the first time he'd even bothered to try. Damn cultivator.

She pushed off from her vantage point, shadowing his path from above. Down below, Jiang moved with an unnerving calm, weaving through the thickest parts of the crowd like a ghost, following his target.

He was good at this part, she realised. Not the fighting, certainly not the planning, but this. The patient, silent pursuit.

He was a complete and utter idiot, a magnet for trouble who was going to get them both killed. But as he slipped through the doorway and vanished into the warehouse's dark interior, she let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. He was also, she was starting to fear, the best chance she'd ever have.

— — —

Jiang paused just past the warehouse doors, letting his eyes adjust as the heavy scene of raw wool, spices, and old wood filled his lungs. The roar of the main dock was muffled in here, replaced by the echoing sounds of work within the vast, cavernous space. He was in.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

His adjusted stealth technique was better than he could have hoped for – though it was far from perfected. It seemed to mostly just make him unremarkable, though the effect could only stretch so far. Even now, some people were giving him some odd looks – he clearly didn't belong in the warehouse, after all – but fortunately, nobody seemed bothered enough to call him out.

Was it the technique working on them, or just the usual amount of apathy most workers seemed to have? Something to experiment with. Later.

The thug he was following was already halfway across the main floor, a broad aisle cluttered with pallets and handcarts. The man was easy to track, his angry, purposeful stride cutting a path through the more leisurely pace of the dockhands. Jiang quickly focused on his Qi reserves to confirm that he wasn't in any immediate danger of running out before following.

He kept to the shadows at the edge of the aisle, using towering stacks of crates as cover. While his technique could cover for some of his mistakes, that wasn't an excuse to get sloppy. Better if no one saw him at all.

The internal space of the warehouse was crudely subdivided, with different sections marked by faded paint on the support pillars – the image of an anchor for what was presumably a shipping guild, a sheaf of wheat for a grain merchant. The thug moved past them all, heading for a more permanent-looking structure at the very back of the warehouse.

It was a section that had been properly walled off with newer, cleaner timber, complete with actual doors and windows of glazed, grimy glass. An office space of sorts, perhaps? There were fewer people, but they moved with a different kind of purpose. Clerks with ink-stained fingers hurried between rooms, carrying sheaves of paper.

This was where his stealth began to fail him.

In the open chaos of the docks or the main warehouse, he was just another anonymous shape – out of place, perhaps, but not so much that it invited suspicion. Here, he was an anomaly. A clerk glanced up from a ledger as he passed, and his eyes didn't slide away; they lingered, a frown of suspicion forming.

He couldn't linger. He picked up his pace, forcing a look of purpose onto his face, as if he were a messenger with an urgent delivery. He just needed to see where the thug was going. Just a few more seconds.

The man he was tailing stopped before a heavy, iron-strapped door at the end of the corridor, knocked once, and was immediately let inside. The door clicked shut behind him.

That was it. That had to be Liang Shen's office.

Jiang turned on his heel and walked briskly back the way he came before anyone could directly question his presence. He found his way to the relative anonymity of a corner, piled high with old tarps and empty barrels, taking the opportunity to pause and think.

He couldn't just walk up and knock. But he needed to know what was being said in that room. He needed confirmation that the man in the office was Liang Shen, and ideally, he would like to know what the thug would report. With a little bit of luck, he'd be able to learn more about how the slavers operated without having to crawl back to the Broker.

But how to get close?

His gaze drifted upwards.

High above, a network of thick, dusty rafters crisscrossed the cavernous space, disappearing into the gloom of the ceiling. It was a long way up, and while the roof space wasn't very well lit, it was certainly bright enough to notice a person climbing around.

Unless, of course, they had a stealth technique.

Jiang took a deep breath, steadying himself, before drawing on his Qi once more. With careful, controlled pulses of energy, he reinforced his muscles and began to scale the wall. It wasn't as difficult as he'd feared; the old timber provided plenty of handholds. Honestly, the ascent felt almost casual, like climbing a familiar tree back home, though he couldn't afford to be complacent.

At the height of the warehouse, the air was thick with dust and the musty scent of mouldering timber. The rafters stretched out before him, a network of wooden beams crisscrossing above the bustling floor below. Far enough apart that he couldn't just step between them, but fortunately close enough that he could hop easily enough. He tested one cautiously, feeling it creak but hold firm beneath his weight.

Good enough.

Slowly, he crept forward, each step a careful balancing act. His stealth technique worked wonders up here, and he reminded himself to test the limits of it more thoroughly at some point. Below, not one of the clerks or dockworkers glanced upward. With each step, confidence surged through him. This was working. He might actually pull this off.

He eased into position directly above the enclosed office, carefully hooking his legs around one of the thicker beams. Hanging upside-down was uncomfortable, but it put his ears as close to the ceiling as possible. Jiang closed his eyes, straining to catch the murmured voices drifting up through the thin wooden planks.

"...couldn't catch him," came the unmistakable grumble of the thug he'd been tailing. "Kid was slippery. Lost him in the alleyways."

A pause followed, heavy with silent disapproval.

"I'm surrounded by incompetents," another voice sighed, softer, colder, and with a dangerous edge of authority. Liang Shen, undoubtedly. "One boy, barely old enough to shave, and you let him slip through your fingers."

"He was quick, boss," the thug protested weakly. "Faster than he had any right to be."

Liang Shen scoffed softly. "That hardly matters. You think our customers will accept excuses? Find him. If some brat off the streets can find me by name, then clearly someone has been speaking out of turn. I doubt a random street rat is stupid enough to be caught asking those questions anyway, so someone is behind this. I want to know who, and I want it dealt with."

"Yes, boss," the thug said hurriedly. "We'll track him down."

"Good," Liang Shen murmured coldly. "Now get out. And don't come back until—"

The beam Jiang was hanging from gave a sickening crack, and his stomach lurched as gravity seized him. He scrambled for purchase, his hands clawing at empty air as rotten wood splintered around him, showering the ceiling of the office below with fragments. He had just enough to curse before he was falling.

He crashed through the thin ceiling in a shower of dust, splintered wood, and rat droppings. He hit something hard, the impact jarring through his entire body, and tumbled into a heap. He blinked, dazed, his ears ringing. He was sprawled across a massive wooden desk, papers scattered around him.

Sitting in the chair directly opposite him, looking utterly stunned, was a portly, well-dressed man with a neatly trimmed beard and the coldest eyes Jiang had ever seen. Beside him, the thug he'd been following stared with his mouth agape, his earlier anger completely replaced by sheer, dumbfounded shock.

The silence in the room was absolute.

Well, Jiang thought, his mind struggling to catch up with the spectacular failure of his plan. At least I know what he looks like now.