The morning sun spilled into Kenji's new courtyard, a pale, analytical light that seemed as methodical as the master of the place himself. The air was cool and smelled of damp stone and earth freshly turned by Xiu Mei, who had decided that a corner of Kenji's impeccable Zen garden was the perfect place to cultivate her Explosive Fury Mushrooms. Seated around a low stone table, the trio that formed the core of Project Phoenix looked like the war council of a company about to launch a hostile takeover.
Kenji, his back as straight as if he had swallowed the hilt of a sword, had a scroll spread out before him. His voice, as always, was a monotonous river of data, devoid of inflection—the sound of absolute, soulless certainty.
"Analysis of the current situation," he began, without preamble. "The Resource Acquisition Protocol through official channels has registered an absolute failure rate over the last seven operational cycles. The hostile asset, codenamed 'Zian,' has successfully implemented a total logistical blockade. Persistence in this course of action is statistically unsustainable."
He paused, his dark eyes fixed on an invisible point in space.
"An immediate strategic pivot toward an external, unregulated acquisition channel is required: the Golden Carp Guild's auction house. The probability of finding the necessary assets—the Millennial Ice Lotus Heart and the Tear of a Cloud Crane—is very high. It is our only viable path."
At his side, Xiu Mei lounged in her seat with a gravity-defying abandon, sharpening one of her claws with a lethal-looking file. The rhythmic, metallic rasp was the only counterpoint to Kenji's monologue.
"And to dance in the shark tank, you need bait, Golem!" the kitsune interrupted without looking up, her voice a vibrant and chaotic burst of color in Kenji's gray world. "Shiny, golden bait! You don't buy those ingredients with pretty smiles or our little Phoenix's spectacular hair. Though, I admit, that hair ought to be worth a couple of pills. What's the financing plan, you financial genius? Because my alchemy lab doesn't run on good intentions; it runs on cold, hard cash."
Kenji was unfazed.
"Capital acquisition is the next item on the agenda. Three scenarios have been evaluated: liquidation of non-essential personal assets, application for a high-risk loan through external merchant guilds, or—"
It was then that Xiao Yue moved.
She stood up, a fluid gesture filled with a new authority that instantly silenced both Kenji's logic and Xiu Mei's chaos. The morning sunlight caught in her red hair, setting it ablaze like a flame, and her golden eyes, once filled with doubt, now shone with the cold determination of an executive about to close a deal.
"The financing plan requires authorization, not a donation," she declared, her voice firm and clear, without the slightest hint of the frightened girl she once was. It was the tone of a Chief Operating Officer presenting a decision, not asking for permission. "Our enterprise needs an injection of official capital, not a personal loan that leaves us indebted to third parties."
Xiu Mei stopped filing her claw, her amber eyes fixed on Xiao Yue with a new spark of astonishment and amusement. The Golem had created a monster, and it was glorious.
Kenji processed the interruption, his brain recalculating the variables. The leadership of the meeting had changed hands. He nodded once, an almost imperceptible gesture.
"An internal capital acquisition. Logical. What is the proposed protocol?"
"I am the protocol," Xiao Yue said, and a faint, cunning, and dangerous smile curved her lips. "I'm going to speak with the Matriarch."
Matriarch Feng's private chambers were a fortress of silence and power. The air smelled of aged sandalwood and the authority of countless secrets kept for decades, a scent that weighed on the shoulders and forced the soul to shrink. Bookshelves, filled with ledgers and personnel records, rose to the ceiling like silent guardians.
Xiao Yue entered alone. She did not walk like the scared child she once was, shuffling her feet with her gaze lowered. Her bearing was that of an heiress, aware of her place and her power, each step an affirmation. The Matriarch, seated on a simple dark wood chair that seemed a throne by the sheer force of her presence, did not greet her warmly. Her hawk-like eyes, sharp and piercing, scanned her from head to toe—an audit of the soul, searching for the slightest fissure.
"Have you come begging for alms, Young Lady?" Feng's voice was as dry as autumn leaves, a stress test designed to see if the old Xiao Yue, the broken girl, was still in there. "To cry about the injustice of your brother?"
The old Xiao Yue would have trembled, would have lowered her gaze, might have even shed a tear of frustration. But the woman standing there now was not a damaged asset. She was the COO of Project Phoenix. She didn't take the emotional bait.
"I have come to report a systemic blockade in resource allocation that jeopardizes the development of a high-potential asset for the clan," Xiao Yue replied, her voice as calm and objective as Kenji's, but with a fire of its own. "And to propose a solution."
Matriarch Feng raised an eyebrow, an almost imperceptible movement that nonetheless denoted deep interest.
Xiao Yue proceeded, her logic cold and crushing. She explained the need for the ingredients for her advancement not as a whim, but as a "necessary investment for the asset's next phase of development." She framed Zian's blockade not as a family squabble, but as an "act of internal sabotage that undermines the clan's long-term competitiveness." And she presented the auction not as a plea, but as the only "logistically viable and time-efficient" path to circumvent the blockade.
The Matriarch was impressed. Not by the plan itself, but by the woman presenting it. In the firmness of her voice, in the relentless logic of her arguments, in the cold determination of her golden eyes, Feng did not see the girl she had known. She saw the reflection of a lioness who had been patiently waiting for her moment to roar. She saw the echo of her late lady, Xiao Yue's mother, a woman whose will had been the true pillar of the clan for years.
"The clan treasury is not Zian's personal playground," Feng finally said, her voice losing its harshness and taking on a resonance of ancestral authority. "It is a clan asset for the clan. You, as the daughter of the Sect Master, have as much right to request funds for your cultivation as he does."
She stood and walked to a dark wooden chest.
"You do not need my gold, Young Lady. You need my authority. Go to the Treasure Pavilion. Speak with Elder Quan. And take what is yours by birthright. Show them that the Phoenix's daughter has returned to claim her nest."
She did not hand her a bag of gold. She gave her something infinitely more valuable. From a silk box, she took out a white jade seal, carved in the shape of a crane in mid-flight. The object was cold to the touch, heavy with the power of generations.
"This is my personal seal," the Matriarch said, and her gaze was both a warning and a promise. "It is not a gift. It is a tool of power. Use it."
Xiao Yue left the Matriarch's chambers feeling the cold weight of the jade in her sleeve. The air outside seemed lighter, more breathable. Leaning against a pillar in the hallway, with the patience of a statue, was Kenji. He had waited. His analytical brain, no doubt, had calculated the average duration of such a meeting and concluded that he should be there.
"Meeting analysis: successful," he declared, as if reading a market report. It was his way of asking how it went. "What is the amount of investment capital the Chairwoman of the Council has approved for the operation?"
Xiao Yue stopped in front of him. A sly smile, one Kenji had never seen before, played on her lips. She took out the Matriarch's white jade seal and showed it to him. The crane seemed to come to life in the sunlight.
"She invested something better than gold, Kenji. She invested power," she said, her voice filled with a new and dangerous confidence. "And now, if you'll excuse me, this is a matter for the COO to handle personally. You are the brains for the shadows; I am the face for the hierarchy."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and headed toward the Treasure Pavilion, leaving a momentarily bewildered Kenji to process the new and fascinating variable that was the woman his "primary asset" had become.
The Treasure Pavilion was a cold, severe building with gray stone walls and a black-tiled roof that seemed to absorb the light. It was guarded by elite guards, men whose gazes held not the arrogance of disciples, but the empty lethality of well-honed weapons.
Elder Quan received her at the entrance. He was a man with a sparse beard and small, cunning eyes, known throughout the clan for his unwavering loyalty to Zian and his profound disdain for the "useless branch" of the Sect Master's family. A condescending smile formed on his face.
"Young Lady Xiao Yue. What an unexpected visit. Did you get lost looking for the kitchen?"
Xiao Yue didn't flinch. Her calm was an impenetrable shield.
"Elder Quan. I have come to make a withdrawal of funds for the acquisition of high-level cultivation resources, as is my right as the Sect Master's daughter. I require a sum of five hundred gold coins."
Elder Quan blinked. And then, he let out a laugh. It was a dry, unpleasant sound, like the cracking of bones.
"Five hundred! Girl, have you lost your mind?! The treasury is not for your rich-girl whims. Young Master Zian has instructed a strict policy of austerity for non-essential expenses. Your request is denied."
Xiao Yue's smile vanished. Her face turned as cold as the ice of the deepest winter. Her voice, when she spoke, was not a shout, but a sharp whisper, so cutting it seemed to lower the temperature of the air.
"Elder Quan, your title is 'Treasury Administrator,' not 'Director of Economic Policy.' Your function is to safeguard and dispense, not to decide. Or have you received a promotion that the rest of the clan has not been informed of?"
The color drained from the elder's face. The blood left his cheeks, leaving them with the pallor of wax. She continued, relentless, each word a logical hammer blow.
"My brother Zian and I share the same blood and the same father. Our status, before the law of the clan, is that of peers. To deny me access to the resources that are rightfully mine for my advancement is not an administrative act. It is a political act. It is a declaration that you, an elder administrator, are openly siding with one faction against the other. It is a direct affront not to me, but to the blood of the Sect Master that runs through my veins."
The finishing blow was as theatrical as it was effective. With a sharp, final motion, she placed Matriarch Feng's white jade seal on the elder's ebony desk.
Clack.
The sound was absolute, a final point to the discussion.
"And just in case your loyalty to the clan's hierarchy has grown… rusty," Xiao Yue continued, her voice now a thread of steel, "here is a reminder of who governs every service operation in this house, including this warehouse. Now, if you would be so kind, my funds. Or perhaps you would prefer that the Matriarch and I discuss this… 'inefficiency' in your management directly with my father."
Elder Quan was trapped. The trap was perfect, a masterpiece of bureaucratic warfare. To defy her was to defy the very structure of the clan. It was to defy the direct authority of Matriarch Feng, a woman whose anger was silent but legendary. And, worse, it was to defy her on terms that, if they reached the Sect Master's ears, would cost him not only his position, but likely his life.
Trembling with a helpless rage and a humiliation so deep it burned in his gut, Elder Quan gestured to his aides. His voice was a choked squawk.
"Prepare the gold."
Xiao Yue did not wait sitting down. She remained standing, arms crossed, watching with predatory coldness as the nervous aides counted the heavy gold coins and put them into a thick leather bag.
When they finished, the bag landed on the counter with a dull, heavy thud. Xiao Yue walked over and picked it up with a single hand. The weight, which would have made a grown man stagger, seemed trivial to her. Her new body, her strength forged in pain and discipline, was another weapon in her arsenal.
Before leaving, she paused at the door and looked back at Elder Quan over her shoulder. A glacial smile, that of a shark that has just tasted blood, formed on her lips.
"Thank you for your efficient cooperation, Elder. The clan values administrators who understand their place."
She walked out of the Treasure Pavilion, and the sun hit her full-on. She strode through the clan's courtyards, the midday sun shining on her red hair and the heavy bag of gold in her hand—not a gift, but the spoils of war.