In a private room on the second floor of the Blue Lotus Chamber of Commerce, Lan Tianhua scanned the latest sales report, with a steaming cup of tea still beside him.
The Dragon Breath had become an unexpected sensation. It was announced as an exclusive liquor, with limited production, but orders kept pouring in. High-ranking officials, influential merchants, and even aristocratic clans had surrendered to its taste.
For low-level cultivators and alcohol lovers, it was simply a celestial brew.
"If we could produce a spiritual version..." he murmured to himself, barely moving his lips. "The market would open even further."
The numbers didn't lie: sales were on a steady rise, and so were the prices. If they managed to catch the attention of higher-level cultivators, the profits would multiply easily.
The door opened without warning, and a young woman with a refined bearing stepped across the threshold. Her sky-blue robe fell gracefully over her slender figure, and her steps were light as dew.
"Father, you have to see this," said Lan Yueqing, placing a letter on the desk.
Lan Tianhua calmly moved the documents aside and took the letter. He read it silently, showing no emotion. Only at the end did he raise an eyebrow, barely noticeable.
"Interesting..." he murmured, placing the letter back on the table. "What do you think?"
The letter spoke of the situation on the eastern front.
The disputes had begun. Sporadic skirmishes were breaking out frequently along the eastern border. It wasn't yet an open war, but the tension grew with each passing day.
For merchants, however, the news wasn't entirely bad. The demand for pills, weapons, and talismans was skyrocketing, and with it, the prices. After all, in times of war, there are always those who thrive.
But that wasn't what caught his attention.
Near the end of the report, written with the same bureaucratic coldness as the rest, one line stood out for its rarity:
"In the south of the Yun Dynasty, a small force has emerged. They claim to be able to take down immortal cultivators with mortal techniques."
No further details were provided. No names, no precise locations, no tactical descriptions. Just a brief note, as if the informant didn't consider it of much importance.
Lan Tianhua narrowed his eyes.
"Taking down immortal cultivators with mortal techniques..." he repeated quietly, letting the words hang in the air like an uncomfortable shadow.
Lan Yueqing frowned.
"That sounds absurd. No one without cultivation can face an immortal and live to tell the tale."
"That's how it should be," he replied, leaning back in his chair with his fingers intertwined. "But in this world... nothing is absolute. The rules are broken more often than they are written. Who says a new variable can't emerge?"
He sat up and set the letter aside, his gaze fixed on some distant point.
"Have them investigate discreetly. If there is a force capable of changing the balance, I want to know before anyone else."
Lan Yueqing nodded without saying a word. She knew that, in the world of commerce as in war, information was more valuable than gold.
"About the Dragon Breath..." Tianhua added, reclining back in his seat again. "When the new batch arrives, receive it yourself. I'd like to speak with their leader."
"Oh? Have you finally made up your mind?" Yueqing asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.
"Hmm," he nodded slowly. "If we manage to create a spiritual liquor, we could launch an unprecedented new product. And if we are the only ones to have it, the other chambers of commerce will fall behind. The profit margin would be... significant."
His expression turned more serious, almost grim.
"Besides, your second uncle has had meetings recently with the third prince. If the rumors are true, we will need more bargaining power within the family."
Lan Yueqing's brows furrowed slightly as she nodded seriously.
"I understand. I'll make sure it gets started. The new batch should arrive in the next few days... we'll see if it's possible to arrange a meeting."
Behind the desk covered with documents and bamboo tablets, a middle-aged man rubbed his eyebrows with a tired expression. He was Xuan Fei, patriarch of the Xuan family.
Since the mass recruitment by the Yun dynasty, the highest combat power of his family had been called to the front. In these uncertain times, the life or death of the great elder could decide the fate of the entire bloodline.
And it wasn't an exclusive situation for his clan. In Black Rock City, many families lived under the same shadow. Those with only one expert at the ninth level of Qi Refinement were being pushed to the limit. Of the four major local forces, all known cultivators at that level had already been called. And if any fell on the battlefield... the other factions wouldn't miss the chance to devour their lands and resources.
A cultivator at the ninth level was the difference between continuity and extinction. The Xuan family was no exception: they had spent a small fortune on defensive talismans, protective artifacts. All to keep their heritage alive.
Xuan Fei was reviewing the latest expense and profit report, but his frown remained. The expense column exceeded what was acceptable. Each number was another drop in the cup of his worry.
A sharp knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.
"Come in," he said, lifting his gaze, rubbing his temples with an exhausted expression.
The door opened abruptly, and Xuan Liang entered hastily. The secretary was panting as though he had run from the other end of the compound, a letter firmly clutched in his hands.
"Patriarch," he said, breathless, "news has arrived from the members we sent to investigate."
Xuan Fei stopped rubbing his temples and immediately straightened up. His eyes, which had been dull from fatigue moments ago, now flashed with a cold gleam. A dense and contained murderous intent seeped into his gaze.
"Give it to me," he ordered, extending his hand with a calmness as tense as the edge of a sword.
Xuan Liang handed over the letter without saying a word. The patriarch broke the seal and unfolded the scroll slowly, reading line by line. His face remained impassive, but his spiritual pressure began to rise, vibrating the air like a distant drum approaching.
The report was brief but blunt: A new force had begun to develop in the southern regions. They claimed to have no cultivators, only mortals... but according to the report, they had repelled an attack from demonic cultivators who tried to massacre a village. Not only did they survive, but they annihilated the enemy group in under a minute, without suffering a single casualty. They called themselves Astralis. They were recruiting people. And they were building what seemed to be... a city.
Xuan Fei narrowed his eyes as he gripped the scroll tightly. His mind connected the dots. A mysterious force in the south. Power capable of killing cultivators with an attack like thunder. The same sound his men had described during the attack on the Black Iron Mine.
His lips tightened into a straight line.
"It's them," he murmured softly, like a curse.
And then the aura he had contained exploded.
The spiritual pressure erupted in the office like an invisible wave. Documents flew through the air, tablets fell to the ground, and the wind swirled as if responding to his contained fury. Xuan Liang stepped back instinctively.
The patriarch's face was a mask of ice hardened by rage.
"Bastards! They attack my mine and now they want to develop right under my nose?" he spat with hatred, grinding his teeth as the letter crunched between his fingers.
His fury was like a flame that consumed the air in the room, but after a few seconds of contained rage, he inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. His face hardened. He had cursed, he had exploded… and now he returned to being the strategist.
He placed the letter deliberately on the table and rested his hand on his chin. His eyes narrowed, and he murmured softly, almost to himself:
"With the great elder at the front… we can't keep sending people blindly without knowing their true strength."
His brow furrowed as he recalled the fate of the second elder. That idiot hadn't returned or sent any news. Everything pointed to him having fallen. For someone at the eighth level of Qi to disappear without a trace...
Without the great elder to act personally, any impulsive move would be too risky a gamble.
Xuan Fei softly drummed his fingers on the surface of the desk as he slowly reclined in his chair. The room fell silent, dense and tense. Xuan Liang remained standing, rigid, not daring to speak or move.
"Hmph..." snorted the patriarch, breaking the silence abruptly. "I can't act personally. But that doesn't mean I'm going to sit back and watch them thrive."
His eyes lifted and fixed on Xuan Liang like sharp blades.
"Get in touch with the leader of the Black Centipede mercenary group. Tell them I have an offer... one they won't be able to refuse."
"I'll go immediately," Xuan Liang replied, bowing his head respectfully before turning toward the exit.
The door closed behind him. Xuan Fei, still deep in thought, turned his gaze to the window, watching the red-tinted clouds of the setting sun.
"Not being able to move... doesn't mean I'll leave you in peace." He whispered softly, almost as a promise.