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The morning air in Amberlight City carried a chill that clung to the mountains. Fog clung to the lower streets, rolling like a river of ghosts between the buildings. Su Yang stood atop the stone watchtower at the eastern gate, hands behind his back, gazing out into the mist-shrouded roads.
Max lay curled at his feet, ears twitching.
> "If I were a bandit leader with eyes inside the city… where would I place my eyes?"
Su Yang descended from the tower, heading directly to the records office on the west side of the City Lord's manor. Advisor Shen awaited him there, sitting beside three large scroll racks overflowing with maps, patrol records, and logistical logs.
"You're early," the older man said, offering a small smile. "Not even the scribes are in yet."
Su Yang nodded, then sat down cross-legged at the low table without a word. Shen pushed the documents toward him.
"These are the patrol formations from the last three months. I've marked the incidents that resulted in ambushes in red. Yellow for missed convoys. Green for uneventful runs."
Su Yang's eyes scanned the scrolls like a hawk hunting for movement. His fingers danced lightly over each one. The maps were neat—too neat.
Within twenty minutes, he noticed it.
The pattern wasn't in the roads themselves. It was in the timing.
Every ambushed patrol occurred exactly four rotations after a supply transfer.
> "That's not random," Su Yang muttered.
Shen looked up from a steaming cup of tea. "What do you mean?"
"Whoever the mole is, they're using the delivery schedule as their communication line. Every fourth delivery, they leak new patrol plans. And someone outside the city picks them up."
Shen frowned. "You believe they're using the supply wagons to smuggle messages?"
Su Yang nodded. "Not just messages. Possibly resources too. The bandits aren't just surviving—they're coordinated, and armed with alchemical bombs. They're getting supplies from inside the city."
Shen's face darkened. "That… narrows the suspects. Only a few merchants have access to supply routes."
"I'll need to inspect the convoy manifests," Su Yang said.
Shen stood immediately. "I'll bring them to you."
---
By late morning, Su Yang sat cross-legged in the City Hall garden, surrounded by scrolls listing merchant names, routes, and approval stamps.
He ran his fingers along the manifest lines until he found one merchant name that appeared too frequently: Lian Bros. Logistics.
They had no storefront. No office. Only a single warehouse near the city's south gate—and yet, they had a stamp on nearly every supply run that had been ambushed.
> "They're either very generous… or very involved."
A low growl beside him snapped his attention. Max was growling in the direction of a courtyard pillar, ears flat.
Su Yang stood slowly.
A young servant boy was pretending to sweep behind the pillar, but his hands trembled, and his eyes darted too quickly.
> "Too young to be an assassin," Su Yang thought. "But not too young to be a spy."
He walked toward the boy casually.
"You missed a spot," he said, pointing at the pillar's base.
The boy stammered. "O-oh, yes, I—I was just going there—"
But Max lunged forward, tail low, snarling, forcing the boy to freeze. Su Yang snatched the small pouch hanging under his sash. Inside was a thin folded paper and a sealed vial of green powder.
Poison—and a coded message.
> "Not just a spy. A messenger," Su Yang realized.
The boy fell to his knees, trembling. "Please… I'm sorry! I didn't want to! They said they'd kill my sister if I didn't deliver—"
Su Yang raised a hand. "Quiet."
He examined the powder—marked with a black flame symbol.
"That's a signature," he muttered. "And it's from someone with ties to the Eagle Flame Clan…"
He turned to Shen, who had just returned with a stack of merchant permits.
"This wasn't just a bandit attack. It's a planned effort. Political, maybe even sect-related."
Shen paled. "Do you think… a rival sect is involved?"
Su Yang shook his head. "Too soon to say. But I'll need to visit that warehouse."
---
That afternoon, Su Yang stood outside Warehouse 13, a crumbling stone structure at the city's edge. No signs. No workers. Just silence.
Max sniffed at the doorway, then growled low.
"It's shielded," Su Yang murmured. "There's a weak concealment array… and faint traces of ash. They've been burning records."
Su Yang summoned a flicker of Karma Fire to his fingertips and pressed his palm to the door.
With a hiss, the spiritual flame disrupted the array.
The door creaked open.
Inside, the air was thick with smoke and old herbs. Empty crates lined the walls. In the far back, a single open box contained dark red pouches marked with the same black flame sigil.
Just then—
"INTRUDER!" someone shouted from the rafters.
Su Yang twisted just in time to dodge a blade that came slicing down from the shadows.
A man in a dark cloak landed with both feet, crouching low. His cultivation—Vein Tempering (Mid). Su Yang's own cultivation was slightly lower, but his battle sense and fire mastery gave him an edge.
The assassin lunged again, slashing horizontally. Su Yang dodged backward, calling forth a strand of Karma Fire in one hand, forming a thin whip.
CRACK!
The fire-whip lashed across the assassin's cloak, burning through fabric and flesh. The man screamed and staggered.
But instead of fighting more, he bit down on something.
"No!" Su Yang realized.
Boom!
The man's body burst into flame—self-immolation with a forbidden pill. Within seconds, only ashes remained.
> "That was a professional," Su Yang thought grimly. "Someone powerful is cleaning up."
He looked around the now-smoking warehouse and found a single undestroyed scroll hidden beneath the crate.
A map.
It showed Amberlight City… and the encirclement of a bandit force in three waves.
They were preparing a siege.
---
That night, Su Yang returned to City Hall and laid the map before Wei Zhen.
The City Lord leaned in, eyes narrowing. "So the attack is coming… from three sides."
"And someone inside the city is still feeding them information," Su Yang added. "But I'll find them."
Wei Zhen gripped the edge of the table. "How long do we have?"
"Three days. Maybe four."
Wei Zhen looked at Su Yang, his expression hardening.
"Then we'd best prepare the people. And Su Yang—" he added, voice quieter.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For not giving up when most would have walked away."
Su Yang's voice was steady, his eyes burning like twin coals.
"I don't walk away from people who need help."
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