Of Hunters and Immortals

Jiang moved first.

He rolled off the desk, his boots hitting the floorboards in a low crouch. The motion gave him freedom of movement, but also brought him within reach of the thug he'd followed here. The thug, predictably, snarled and lunged for his throat.

Unfortunately for the man, this time, Jiang wasn't trying to hold back and feign helplessness.

Jiang pivoted smoothly, ducking under the thug's grasping arms. To Jiang, his senses sharpened by the flow of Qi, the thug may as well have been swimming through honey. His hands slapped down on the heavy oak of the desk behind him, using it as a brace. He kicked upward, launching himself from the floorboards. Both of his feet planted squarely on the thug's chest, and with a surge of Qi-fueled strength, he pushed.

The impact wasn't just a kick; with the changes to his reinforcement technique, it was more like a detonation of force.

The thug's eyes went wide with shock, a choked cry escaping his lips as his ribs audibly cracked. He was propelled backward, not just stumbling, but flying through the air. He crashed through the thin timber wall of the office as if it were made of parchment, landing in a splintered heap in the corridor outside, unmoving.

Jiang barely spared him a glance, whipping around instead to face Liang Shen. Only—

Liang Shen was gone.

A startled curse slipped from Jiang's lips as he scanned the room, confusion and anger tightening his gut. The portly slaver hadn't had more than a handful of seconds to disappear—yet there was no sign of him. His gaze flicked rapidly over the mess of the room: scattered papers, the splintered remains of the ceiling, overturned furniture—

—and a bookcase, hanging slightly ajar.

Jiang lunged forward, yanking the concealed door wide. It swung open to reveal a narrow, hidden passageway carved straight through the warehouse wall. Sunlight flooded the tunnel from the far end, illuminating the frantic footsteps of someone fleeing for his life. Jiang sprinted down the passage without hesitation, pulse hammering in his ears.

He emerged into the filthy alleyway behind the warehouse, blinking rapidly against the sudden brightness. The air stank of garbage and brine, thick enough to taste, but Jiang's attention was fixed solely on Liang Shen's fleeing figure. The slaver was running desperately, but his fine clothes and pampered lifestyle clearly hadn't prepared him for a real chase.

Jiang covered the distance effortlessly, his reinforced steps barely audible as he caught up to the man in moments. Liang Shen glanced back, saw Jiang closing in, and let out a pathetic, breathless squeak of terror.

Then Jiang's hand closed on his collar, yanking him sharply backward and slamming him roughly into the alley wall. Liang Shen gasped, eyes wide and panicked.

"Wait!" the slaver wheezed desperately, raising trembling hands. "Don't—don't kill me! Please, I'll tell you anything you want!"

Jiang's lip curled slightly. "Oh, I'm counting on it."

— — —

Lin would deny it if anyone ever asked her, but she'd gaped in shock at the sight of Jiang hauling a fat, well-dressed man out from behind the warehouse.

First of all, because she'd never expected his stupid plan to actually work, and secondly, because she'd heard a crash from the warehouse a moment ago, and now Jiang had exited through the back – the back that didn't have any exits.

Had he kicked a hole in the wall and dragged this guy out?

She didn't know whether she should be relieved his plan worked or annoyed – on the one hand, it was sort of irritating to see someone do something she knew wouldn't work, then somehow have it work anyway. On the other hand, it was sort of impressive how smoothly everything had gone – even the fact that everyone was somehow too distracted by the loud noise in the warehouse to notice Jiang blatantly dragging Liang Shen over to an alleyway.

Was he somehow using his weird cultivator powers to stop people from noticing, or was it just pure luck?

Either way, Lin wasn't about to miss the next part. She moved swiftly, silently hopping rooftops until she was positioned directly above the alley Jiang had chosen. Jiang might not care about consequences – or, possibly, be strong enough that he didn't have to care – but she didn't enjoy the same status. Better to hide out of sight, just on the off chance that this slaver noticed her and tried to exact revenge later.

Assuming he even made it out of the conversation alive, that was.

She crouched low against the sloping tiles, her body instinctively melding with the shadows as she peered over the roof's edge. Below, Jiang slammed Liang Shen roughly into the filthy brick wall, his expression cold and dangerous. Something about the casual way he manhandled someone supposedly dangerous sent a shiver up her spine.

She carefully didn't examine the feeling.

Liang Shen, meanwhile, was a wreck. His carefully groomed beard was askew, sweat plastered his fine robes to his round body, and panic twisted his face. Even from up here, Lin could see his eyes darting around desperately, seeking an escape that didn't exist.

"P-please," Liang Shen sputtered, voice hoarse with fear. "You have the wrong man, I swear it! I'm just a merchant, a nobody—"

Jiang ignored him, glancing upwards directly at her hiding spot. Fortunately, he seemed happy enough to have her watch quietly, though how the hell did he know she was there in the first place?

Stupid cultivator senses.

Below, Jiang turned back to Liang Shen, voice dangerously soft. "Let's skip the part where you waste my time, alright? I already know you're involved in the slave trade. All I want are answers."

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Liang Shen tried to plaster a pathetic, ingratiating smile across his terrified features. "Y-you're mistaken, friend! I'm no slaver, just an honest merchant—"

Jiang's patience clearly ran out before the sentence even finished. He leaned in closer, eyes narrowing slightly. At first, Lin didn't understand why Liang Shen had abruptly paled – then she saw it.

The shadows in the alleyway had shifted, twisting and stretching even as they darkened unnaturally. It was like Jiang had tugged them closer, wrapping them around himself like a heavy cloak. It was subtle, but something about the change made him seem bigger, harsher, less human.

Lin swallowed hard, fighting the urge to inch further back on the roof tiles. It was a sobering reminder that the random guy she'd met stealing a comb was actually one of the immortals spoken of in stories.

Not all of those stories had happy endings.

Liang Shen, meanwhile, looked like he was seconds from wetting himself. He flattened himself against the brick wall, eyes darting frantically between Jiang's shadowy form and the mouth of the alley, clearly weighing whether he could outrun whatever Jiang had become.

"H-how…" he stammered weakly, voice shrill and cracking. "You're one of them? A c-cultivator? Gods, he never said…"

Lin's ears perked up as the man trailed off, but unfortunately, Jiang didn't seem to have noticed the wording of the man's babbling. Instead, he reached out and very deliberately placed his hand against the bricks just beside Liang Shen's head.

"One last chance," he said softly. "A shipment of slaves would have come into the city recently. From somewhere near Liǔxī village. You're going to tell me exactly where they were taken."

Liang Shen's face was slick with sweat now, the façade of innocence long since shattered. His breathing was ragged, his whole body trembling. He swallowed audibly, then sagged in defeat.

"Look, I… I don't know specifics, alright?" he whispered, voice thin with fear. "I'm just a facilitator. I pass along schedules and guard rotations. Someone else handles the details."

"Names," Jiang pressed, cold and unyielding. "Locations."

Liang Shen shook his head frantically. "I-I can't! I don't know them, truly! All my business is done through a dead drop near the east docks, hidden behind the shrine to the Sea Guardian. I leave city watch patrol schedules and information about ship arrivals there, then pick up shipment orders left for me. I never see the person I'm working for!"

Jiang leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing further in suspicion. "And how do I know you're not just feeding me lies?"

Liang Shen let out a bitter, desperate laugh. "Do I look brave enough to lie to someone like you? I'm just a middleman! Nobody important. The fewer faces we know, the safer everyone is. If you're looking for someone specific, your best bet is to find whoever sold them in the first place. They'll know exactly who they sold them to and why."

Lin observed from her rooftop perch, frowning at how easily Liang Shen had folded. She wasn't exactly an expert on interrogations, but even a coward like this had to understand how dangerous it was to betray someone powerful enough to organise slave shipments. Then again, she couldn't exactly blame the man for being terrified – she wouldn't be faring any better if threatened with someone who could control the shadows.

She eyed the shadows on the rooftop beside her warily. How much control did Jiang have over the darkness? Could he see her through the shadows somehow? Was that how he'd spotted her?

She shook the thought off a moment later. It didn't matter. Well, it did, but there wasn't anything she could do about it, and Jiang didn't have any reason to go after her besides.

Still… something about the whole thing didn't sit right with her. Liang Shen had caved fast, almost too fast. Either Jiang's shadow trick had worked even better than it looked, or the slaver knew something else that made him willing to risk angering his employers. She couldn't shake the feeling that Jiang wasn't the only one playing a dangerous game here.

Below, Jiang stood silently for a long moment, considering Liang Shen's words. Finally, he spoke. "If you're lying, I'll find you again. And next time, I'll do more than ask questions."

Liang Shen nodded frantically. "I understand! I swear, I'm telling you everything I know!"

Jiang stepped back, releasing his grip. "Go," he said flatly.

That… was a little unexpected. Lin wasn't exactly a paragon of moral standing herself, but slavers were the lowest of the low. Considering Jiang's rather personal reasons for tracking these people down… well, she hadn't expected Liang Shen to survive the conversation.

Judging by how the man stumbled out of the alleyway, legs trembling and clothes stained with dirt and sweat, he hadn't expected to survive either.

She watched him go, feeling… oddly unsatisfied. It was never nice to see people like that slip away from the consequences of their actions – but then, it wasn't up to her to make them face justice. If Jiang had let the guy go, there was probably a reason for it.

Lin sighed, standing carefully and slipping down to street level to join Jiang in the alley. He was staring at the spot Liang Shen had vacated, fists clenched at his sides, his expression tight and frustrated.

"You okay?" she asked cautiously. "You look like you're about to punch a wall."

Jiang let out a slow breath, the tension draining slightly from his shoulders. "I screwed up," he muttered bitterly, shaking his head. "If I'd waited – been a little more patient – I might've found out who Liang's working for. Hung around the dead drop or something, followed whoever came to pick stuff up. Instead, they'll be warned. I just made everything harder."

Lin shifted awkwardly, unsure how to comfort someone who had, in fact, screwed up rather spectacularly. She settled for a vague shrug. "I mean, you got something, right? That's more than you had this morning."

He snorted humorlessly, though his eyes softened slightly. After a long moment of thought, Jiang's posture straightened again, and determination settled back into his features. He glanced at her thoughtfully.

"Come on," he said finally. "I'm heading back to the Broker."

Lin raised an eyebrow warily. "Why? I thought you said he didn't have any jobs for you."

Jiang's jaw tightened, a shadow flickering briefly in his gaze. "Plans changed." He hesitated, then added quietly, "What do you know about Huo Jin? Leader of the Iron Dogs?"

Lin felt her stomach twist unpleasantly. "Nothing good," she said grimly, meeting Jiang's eyes. "And nothing safe. Why?"

Jiang's expression turned colder, harder, like he'd buried whatever doubts he'd had. "Because I'm running out of options."

Lin swallowed hard. She'd seen that look before, usually right before someone did something incredibly reckless. For all their sakes, she hoped Jiang knew what he was doing.

But deep down, she already knew better.

— — —

Liang Shen stumbled back into the ruin of his office, his heart still hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He leaned heavily on the desk, sucking in a ragged breath that did little to calm the violent trembling in his hands. His eyes fell on the gaping, man-shaped hole in the wall leading out to the corridor, the splintered wood a stark reminder of the casual, terrifying force the boy had unleashed.

"Gods," he wheezed, a mix of relief and fury making his voice shake. He would have to pay for that damage himself.

He fumbled in a locked desk drawer, his fingers clumsy, until they closed around a small, smooth wooden token. He stared at it for a moment, a flicker of disgruntled confusion on his face. The idea that this simple piece of wood could carry a man's voice across the city was still a piece of magic he couldn't quite fathom. It felt wrong. Unnatural.

Pressing his thumb to the faint carving on its surface as he'd been instructed, he held it to his lips. "It's done," he hissed, his voice a low, angry whisper. "I told him what you wanted. He's heading for the bandits." He took another shaky breath. "But this is the last time. You never said he was a cultivator. You never said he could command the damn shadows! I'm not getting myself killed for your games."

He waited, his own words echoing in the ruined office. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, a cold, dispassionate voice, utterly devoid of warmth or concern, replied from the token.

"Your payment is assured."

The connection went dead. Liang Shen slumped into his chair, the token clattering from his nerveless fingers onto the desk. He was paid. But he had the distinct, chilling feeling that he had just become an entirely disposable loose end.