"And this commissioner who hired you… surname Li, was it?"
"Yes," the older man replied quickly. "We never got his full name. Just that he was someone from the inner court — said to have enough connections to keep the job hidden. We received the commission from one of the secured channels, passed through two layers. Nothing direct."
"All he wanted," the younger one added, his voice small, "was for us to investigate you. Track your movements. Look for… anything that seemed unnatural."
"So just another coward in white robes hoping to stay clean while someone else does the dirty work."
Lao Xie's lips curved faintly — though it wasn't a smile.
"Well, Surname Li.. that does sound familiar." he thought.
The younger spy hesitated, then asked, "We've answered everything we can… so, can you let us go now?"
Lao Xie stared at them in silence for a few moments before replying, "I wasn't going to let you go… but I've changed my mind."
The two spies exchanged uneasy glances.
"…Is there still anything you want to ask?" the older one ventured cautiously.
"Not really," Lao Xie answered, his tone flat, almost dismissive.
Then he added, "There's only one way you two to walk away from this alive."
Both men stiffened.
"W-what do you mean?" the older one asked.
"Swear on your dao heart that you will never reveal my existence… and that you will obey my orders when I call for you." Lao Xie's gaze sharpened. "Otherwise, I end you both here."
The words hit harder than a blade.
The younger spy's breathing quickened while the older one's jaw tightened. A dao heart oath wasn't something one took lightly — it was a permanent bind. Break it, and the backlash would crush not only your body, but as well as your soul.
The alley felt smaller somehow — the shadows thicker, the air heavier.
The younger spy swallowed hard. "A dao heart oath… that's—"
"That's suicide if we break it," the older one finished grimly, eyes never leaving Lao Xie. "You're asking for chains on our soul."
"I'm offering you life," Lao Xie corrected, his voice smooth, almost conversational. "A fair trade, considering your current… value."
"You've come to me despite knowing the risk. This is an opportunity that i will never let it go. Black Heaven? how wonderful, i'll make sure to use it to my best."
The younger man clenched his daggers, knuckles whitening. For a moment, Lao Xie thought he might try something foolish. But then the older spy's hand shot out, gripping his partner's wrist.
"Don't," the elder muttered under his breath.
Lao Xie took a step forward — not fast, not threatening in appearance, yet the movement sent a chill through both men. His presence pressed in again, that same suffocating weight from before.
"You have until I reach you," he said, voice soft but absolute. "If I take three steps and you're still undecided… you won't have the chance to regret it."
One step.
The younger spy's breath hitched.
Two steps.
The older man broke first. "Fine! We swear! We swear on our dao hearts!"
Lao Xie stopped just in front of them, his shadow falling over both. "Say it properly."
They exchanged one last look, then bowed their heads.
In low, steady voices, they recited the oath — to never reveal Lao Xie's true persona, to obey his summons without question, and to accept the soul-crushing backlash should they betray him.
When the words were spoken, the oppressive air receded. Lao Xie stepped back, as if the matter had never been serious to him at all.
"Good," he said lightly. "Now… you're free to go. And remember — you're mine before you're anyone else's."
Neither man dared to answer. They only turned and slipped into the night, eager to put as much distance between themselves and that alley as possible.
Lao Xie didn't move for a moment after the spies vanished into the shadows.
His fingers absently brushed the hilt of his sword, mind turning over the name they had given him.
"Black Heaven…"
It wasn't the first time he had heard it.
The memory came faintly, carried on the dusty air of his childhood — Elder Yao, rambling half-drunk in the courtyard, muttering about 'the ones who see all' and 'the knives in the dark no one can trace.'
Back then, it had sounded like a bedtime story meant to scare brash disciples.
But Elder Yao had never wasted breath on fiction.
The Black Heaven Organisation.
To the public, they were a whisper — an almost mythical information broker whose reach stretched farther than the empire's own intelligence network.
To those who lived in the murk of the underworld, they were something more — the silent hand that could uncover any secret… or erase any life.
Their assassinations were the stuff of dark tavern tales. Some called them necessary — purging the rot the courts would never touch. Others cursed them as butchers-for-hire without conscience
No one knew who their true leader was.
Even contacting them was near impossible for ordinary people; you had to know someone who already owed them, or you'd never even find the door.
And yet, someone from the inner court had gone to them to investigate him.
Lao Xie's gaze narrowed.
"This is getting messy…" he said inwardly.
He turned on his heel, the thought slipping away for now. The night air cooled his head as he made his way back through the winding streets.
By the time he pushed open the wooden door of the small shop, the sharp scent of dried herbs and parchment greeted him.
Ling Ruxin sat exactly where he'd left her — perched on a small stool, chin resting on her palm, watching the flickering lamplight dance on the shelves.
She looked up at the sound of the door, her eyes immediately scanning him.
"You were gone longer than I thought," she said, tone neutral but gaze questioning.
Lao Xie's expression was unreadable. "Something caught my attention."
She frowned faintly but didn't press. "You're not hurt?"
"What do you mean, not hurt?." He closed the door behind him with a quiet click, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
"Let's go. We've lingered enough."
Outside.
They stepped out into the lamplit street, the air thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts and sizzling oil. Stalls lined both sides, each a patch of gold in the night, hawkers calling over one another in a jumble of voices.
Ling Ruxin's eyes darted from one table to the next — bolts of dyed silk in indigo and crimson, trays of carved trinkets, brass incense burners shaped like qilin.
Lao Xie walked beside her at an unhurried pace, hands clasped loosely behind his back, scanning the crowd as much as the wares.
A vendor's stall displayed neat rows of candied hawthorns, each one gleaming under the sunlight. Ruxin slowed, her gaze lingering on the skewers, but Lao Xie only glanced at them before walking past. She caught up with a faint pout, tilting her head toward him. "You really have no interest in anything sweet?"
"I'll pass," he said lazily, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Too much sugar dulls the mind."
She gave an exasperated sigh, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes as they moved on.