Entering the Serene Phoenix Pavilion again, this time with a purpose other than drunken debauchery, felt like stepping through an invisible, shimmering veil into another reality entirely – one meticulously crafted for pleasure, discretion, and the quiet exchange of wealth for corporeal comforts. The noise of the Qingshan Town faded instantly behind us the moment we crossed the threshold. It was muffled, absorbed by thick, plush carpets underfoot, by heavy silk hangings adorning the walls, and perhaps -- I suspected -- by subtle silencing formations woven invisibly into the very structure of the building itself. This place prioritized privacy above all else.
Here, inside, the air was different. Heavy, warm, and deliberately scented, not with the city's honest miasma of dust, cooking smoke, and humanity, but with the rich, almost intoxicating blend of expensive, imported incense. Sandalwood predominated, its deep, woody notes grounding the senses, overlaid with the heady sweetness of rare floral extracts I couldn't precisely identify -- designed to gently soothe the nerves and loosen the inhibitions (and purse strings) of its clientele. Soft, melodic music from a skilled zither or pipa player hidden discreetly in an alcove or behind an ornate screen, drifted languidly through the air, weaving a tapestry of sensual tranquility, a stark contrast to the boisterous tunes of the feast musicians the night before.
The Pavilion itself was a masterpiece of understated, yet undeniable, luxury, designed to appeal to wealthy merchants and cultivators alike. Unlike the imposing, almost fortress-like structure of the Myriad Treasures Pavilion which projected commercial power, the Serene Phoenix was designed to entice, to welcome, to promise pleasure, escape, and absolute discretion. Polished dark redwood, smooth and cool to the touch, intricately carved with flowing, suggestive motifs of blooming peonies intertwined with graceful, long-tailed phoenixes, framed the entrance and the numerous doorways leading off the main hall. Silk lanterns, shaped like lotus blossoms, hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm, inviting, amber glow, softer and infinitely more alluring than the harsh afternoon sun we'd just left behind. Inside the lavishly appointed entrance hall, thick carpets in deep jewel tones – sapphire blue, emerald green, ruby red – swallowed the sound of our footsteps completely, adding to the hushed, intimate atmosphere. Walls were adorned not with paint, but with exquisite, hand-embroidered silk hangings depicting scenes of ethereal, almost dreamlike beauty – mist-shrouded mountains where immortals might dwell, moonlit bamboo groves reflecting in still ponds, celestial maidens with flowing sleeves dancing among swirling clouds. The furniture was sparse -- but chosen for maximum impact and comfort: low tables of polished rosewood bearing delicate tea sets or single, perfect flower arrangements; plush cushions upholstered in heavy brocade embroidered with intricate golden patterns, inviting patrons to recline and relax.
The staff moved through this luxurious space with a silent, practiced, almost feline grace. They were, for the most part, beautiful young women, selected for their looks and likely their temperament, clad in revealing yet undeniably elegant silk robes – robes designed to hint alluringly at the curves beneath without crossing into overt vulgarity. They glided through the halls, their smiles welcoming yet professionally distant, their eyes carrying a subtle, constant, assessing quality as they gauged the status and desires of incoming patrons.
There were men here too, of course -- handsome and impeccably dressed in fine silks, they stood ready near doorways, poised to guide patrons to private rooms or fulfill requests, their voices kept deliberately low and soothing.
Even the guards stationed discreetly near the main entrance and at the junctions of corridors, while clearly skilled Martial Artists radiating potent, contained Xue Qi, carried themselves with an air of refined menace rather than brute force, their dark uniforms simple and unobtrusive, designed to blend into the shadows – to stay out of sight until needed.
Overseeing this entire domain of pleasure and secrets, approaching us now with a flawless smile that didn't quite reach her sharp, intelligent eyes, was the Pavilion's manager – Madam Xue. She was a woman of indeterminate age, looking around forty, perhaps older, her face smooth and skillfully painted, her bearing elegant and composed. Her own cultivation, I sensed with my newly solidified Stage Five Qi, was surprisingly steady and deep: she was likely in the late stages of Qi Gathering herself – Stage Eight, maybe even Nine – far stronger than most people in this backwater town, suggesting she was more than capable of handling trouble personally if her formidable guards were not up to the task.
Is she like Alchemist Chen? Was she, too, a former outer disciple, kicked out of some cultivation sect for failing to break through to Foundation Establishment?
It was a likely possibility. Which begged the question: what did she know of the attempted poisoning in her domain? Was she, perhaps, even in on it?
"Young Master Jiang," she greeted, her voice smooth as poured velvet, betraying none of the surprise she must have felt at seeing me again so soon, especially looking relatively composed and sober compared to the drunken, Qi-scattered state I was likely in the last time she saw me leave.
"What a pleasure it is to welcome you back to the Serene Phoenix Pavilion. I trust you are feeling… fully recovered from your recent… indisposition?" Her gaze flickered subtly over my rich, emerald-green and gold robes, which, while not as loud as yesterday's dragon robes, still practically screamed wealth – and perhaps lingered for a calculated moment on Lin Ruolan standing silently behind me, noting her presence, her own formidable cultivation, and the simple, unadorned sword bag she now carried… for indeed, I had Ruolan take the new mid-grade spirit sword along for this investigation. Getting openly attacked in broad daylight seemed unlikely, but it was still a distinct possibility after the poisoning failed – and, at least for now, my combat abilities were rather lacking.
Now, how should I handle Madam Xue?
I certainly could try to be subtle and polite, but where was the fun in that? My previous displays had established a certain persona. Leaning into that, keeping her off balance, seemed the best approach for now. Refuge in audacity!
"Recovered?" I boomed, deliberately pitching my voice much louder than necessary for the intimate hall, injecting it with a cheerful, almost manic energy that made several nearby courtesans startle and turn, their painted smiles freezing slightly. I clapped my hands together sharply, the sound echoing slightly in the hushed space. "Madam Xue, 'recovered' doesn't begin to describe it! I feel reborn! Invigorated! Touched by fortune!" I grinned widely, perhaps a little too widely, letting my gaze sweep around the opulent hall as if assessing its suitability for my newfound magnificence. "I am positively overflowing with vitality and," – I leaned in conspiratorially, lowering my voice slightly but ensuring those nearby could still hear – "generosity!"
Madam Xue's flawless smile tightened almost imperceptibly at the corners.
"We are… delighted to hear of your renewed vigor, Young Master," she replied smoothly, recovering instantly. "Your usual private room, the Jade Whisper, has been freshly prepared and is awaiting your pleasure. Shall I have someone escort you?"
"Excellent! Excellent!" I declared, rubbing my hands together with feigned eagerness. "But first things first!" I turned back to Madam Xue, my expression becoming demanding. "I require the presence of the young lady who attended me so diligently during my last visit. Mei'er, was it? Yes, that's the one! The girl with the delightful laugh that sounds like wind chimes, and the remarkably steady hands for pouring wine, even when her patron is… less than steady himself!" I winked broadly at Madam Xue again, playing the part of the satisfied, slightly lecherous customer returning for a specific favorite. "Her service was… particularly memorable! I wish to reward her personally and generously for her attentiveness! Fetch her immediately!" I made it sound like an urgent, non-negotiable demand fueled by capricious whim and overflowing wealth, putting her on the spot.
Madam Xue's professional smile finally faltered for more than a fraction of a second. A flicker of genuine nervousness, quickly suppressed, entered her eyes. She hesitated, glancing quickly, almost imperceptibly, at a nearby male attendant who gave an equally subtle shake of his head.
"Ah, Young Master Jiang," she began, her voice still smooth but perhaps a shade too quick, lacking its earlier effortless confidence, "regarding Mei'er... most unfortunately, she is… unexpectedly absent today." She paused, clearly searching for a plausible, non-alarming explanation. "She did not report for her shift this morning, nor did she send word explaining her absence, which is… most unlike her usual diligence and professionalism." Her eyes flickered again, perhaps assessing my reaction.
"It is… puzzling." She quickly tried to smoothly redirect my attention, her smile becoming slightly more forced, slightly too bright. "Perhaps, while we await news of Mei'er, Young Master would prefer the company of the equally skilled Lian'er this afternoon? She plays the pipa beautifully. Or the charming Xue'er, whose conversation is said to be most witty? They are both available and have, in fact, been asking after you..."
"Absent?" I interrupted loudly, cutting off her practiced redirection, letting my cheerful demeanor vanish instantly, replaced by exaggerated, theatrical outrage. "Absent? Without word? On the very day I return, brimming with gratitude and gold, intending to bestow rewards?" I slammed my hand down hard onto a nearby low rosewood table – controlling my Stage Five strength just enough not to shatter the expensive wood, but making a loud, sharp crack that made everyone in the hall jump, including my own guards. Several courtesans gasped audibly.
"Unacceptable!" I roared, beginning to pace back and forth dramatically before the now visibly nervous manager, playing the part of the wounded, prideful patron to the hilt. "Does she dare slight me? Jiang Li? After I showed her such particular favor during my last visit?" My pacing became more agitated. Then, abruptly, my tone shifted again, becoming one of deep, almost overwrought, melodramatic concern. I stopped pacing and spun back to face Madam Xue, my expression now etched with exaggerated worry.
"Or perhaps… perhaps she is unwell?" I leaned closer, my voice dropping to an intense whisper. "This is intolerable! I must know her whereabouts! Tell me where she resides! Now! If she is truly ill, I shall dispatch Alchemist Chen himself to attend her – cost is no object! If," my voice took on a colder, sharper, more menacing edge, "she is merely being negligent, disrespecting my patronage after receiving my favor, then her employment requires immediate review, and I shall deliver her 'reward' for that personally!"
I refused to be deterred, deliberately making a scene, putting the manager squarely on the spot in front of her staff and the few curious patrons who were now openly watching the drama unfold, likely already formulating juicy gossip. My unpredictable behavior, coupled with the now widely known rumors of my immense wealth and potential power, created an uncomfortable pressure she couldn't easily deflect or ignore.
Madam Xue's face paled slightly under my intense stare and shifting moods. She clearly wanted to avoid further trouble, especially involving a potentially volatile patron like me, known for sudden shifts in fortune and temper, who now seemed to possess both limitless funds and perhaps unstable mental faculties. After another moment of tense silence, where the only sound was the soft, incongruous plucking of the distant zither, she visibly capitulated, deciding appeasement was the wisest course.
"Young Master, please, calm yourself," she urged, her voice regaining some of its smoothness, though laced now with undeniable caution and perhaps a touch of fear. "There is truly no need for concern or… drastic measures. Mei'er resides not far from here, in the Willow Lane district. It is a respectable area." She quickly gave the specific address, reciting it clearly, perhaps hoping I would simply send a messenger now that my 'concern' was acknowledged.
"I am sure," she added, forcing another professional smile, "it is merely a temporary indisposition... Perhaps she simply overslept after a tiring night."
"Perhaps," I said noncommittally, cutting her off again before she could offer more platitudes. My performance had achieved its goal: I had the address.
"…But I shall ascertain that for myself." I turned abruptly to my own entourage, leaving Madam Xue mid-sentence. "Steward Lin, guards, we are leaving." I gave Madam Xue a curt, dismissive nod, ignoring her sputtering attempts to offer further assistance. "We shall return later, perhaps," I added vaguely over my shoulder as I swept back towards the entrance, deliberately leaving her uncertain, off-balance, and likely deeply worried about what I might discover or what trouble I might cause next.
Let her stew.
Let the Pavilion buzz with speculation.
+++
The journey to Willow Lane took us away from the opulent, slightly artificial heart of the entertainment district, with its silk lanterns, perfumed air, and hidden doorways promising illicit pleasures. We moved through cleaner, quieter streets lined with well-kept courtyard homes and respectable multi-story dwellings constructed from solid timber and grey bricks. This wasn't the abject poverty of the slums I'd glimpsed near the market alleys yesterday, nor was it the walled estates of the truly wealthy cultivator families or high-ranking city officials that existed closer to the City Lord's manor.
No, this was the domain of Qingshan Town's solid, comfortable middle-strata – successful artisans plying their trades, senior clerks working for large merchant houses, perhaps lower-ranking city officials or retired military officers. Jiang Li's memories surfaced again, confirming my assessment. Popular courtesans at top establishments like the Serene Phoenix, especially those who managed to secure the long-term favor of wealthy or regular patrons like the original Jiang Li, could indeed earn significant sums – sometimes, astonishingly, up to a tael of silver a day. It was an astronomical amount compared to ordinary skilled labor, allowing them to afford a dwelling far better than a typical commoner, reflecting a certain precarious status within the mortal hierarchy.
It was a gilded cage of a sort, perhaps – comfortable, even luxurious by mortal standards, yet ultimately dependent on fleeting youth, fragile beauty, and the unpredictable whims of powerful men. Worlds away from true cultivator luxury and freedom, but also far removed from the daily struggle for survival faced by most mortals in the Azure Dragon Empire.
We located the address Madam Xue had provided without difficulty – it was a small but neat, self-contained courtyard house tucked away on a quiet side street, shaded by a large, blooming plum tree. Its wooden gate was freshly painted a respectable dark red, and a few healthy-looking potted flowering shrubs – chrysanthemums and small azaleas – flanked the entrance, clearly tended with care. It spoke of modest prosperity, of a life carefully maintained, perhaps a haven away from the demands of the Pavilion. Yet, as we approached, an unnatural stillness seemed to hang over the place, a silence deeper than the quiet street warranted. The usual sounds of a household – the clatter of cooking pots, the murmur of conversation, perhaps the sound of cleaning or mending – were entirely absent. And more disturbingly, as we drew closer, both Lin Ruolan and I simultaneously sensed it – a faint, lingering, invasive coldness emanating subtly from within the walls, a specific, unnatural chill to the world's qi, utterly wrong in the warm afternoon air, that felt sickeningly familiar to me. It prickled at the edges of my spiritual senses, a dissonant note in the otherwise peaceful atmosphere.
My two household guards moved instinctively towards the gate to knock, their expressions becoming wary. I waved them back with a sharp gesture. Ruolan met my eyes, her own expression grim, understanding passing between us without words. Her hand instinctively tightened on the simple cloth bag containing the concealed Spirit Sword she carried. She gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. Something was definitely wrong here.
The gate, I noted, was unlocked, perhaps even slightly ajar. Pushing it open revealed a small, tidy courtyard, the stone paving swept clean, with a few more potted plants arranged neatly along the walls. A simple stone bench sat under the plum tree. Peaceful. Normal.
Except for the silence, and that pervasive, unnatural chill.
The door to the main living quarters, directly ahead, was also slightly ajar, swinging gently back and forth in a breeze that carried no sound from within.
Signaling the guards to wait outside, to remain alert and watch the street, I had Ruolan draw the newly manifested Spirit Sword from its concealing bag. Its silvery-blue blade seemed muted in the dappled sunlight of the courtyard, the faint blue glow of its formations somber, almost mournful. We approached the open door cautiously, senses heightened, Qi circulating, ready for anything. I nudged the door open further with the tip of my foot.
The main room inside was small by my standards, but furnished with surprising taste and care. Simple but good quality wooden furniture – a low table, a couple of cushioned stools, a carved chest for clothes. Clean woven rush mats covered the floor. A few decorative landscape scrolls, likely inexpensive ones but chosen with care, hung on the walls. A small vanity table stood in one corner, cosmetics, combs, and hairpins neatly arranged upon it. Evidence of a life lived with pride and a degree of comfort. But the stillness was absolute, the cold palpable, clinging to the air, to the furniture, seeming to emanate from the very walls.
And then we saw her.
Mei'er lay on her sleeping mat in the bedroom, near the back, her body partially covered by a thin, neatly folded floral-patterned blanket. She was dressed in simple, clean cotton sleeping clothes. Her eyes were closed, her face pale but peaceful, almost serene, like a porcelain doll.
There were absolutely no signs of struggle, no obvious wounds, no disarray in the room suggesting violence or intrusion. But the scene screamed death nonetheless, silent and chilling. The unnatural pallor beneath her skin had a faint, almost bluish tinge, visible even in the dim light filtering through the single window. A delicate, intricate frost pattern, like frozen lace or winter's breath on glass, shimmered faintly on the wooden floorboards immediately surrounding her mat, already beginning to sublimate, to vanish into faint wisps of cold mist in the warmer air filtering in from the open door. And the cold… it emanated palpably from her body, a deep, penetrating, unnatural Qi chill that instantly reminded me, with visceral certainty, of the icy tendrils that had invaded my own meridians just two nights ago.
It was the unmistakable signature of Silent Meridian Frost.
I moved closer, my boots silent on the woven mats, Ruolan a silent, watchful shadow beside me, her face grim, the Sword held ready. Kneeling beside the mat, careful not to disturb the scene, I touched the corpse and extended my senses, probing gently with my Qi towards Mei'er's body.
The cold was undeniable, profound, originating from her core, having frozen her life force from the inside out, extinguishing her vitality completely, just as it had almost done to me. But unlike me, she possessed no cultivation base, no spiritual energy, no meridians trained even slightly to resist such an invasive, lethal forces. For a mere mortal, the poison would have been swift, silent, and utterly lethal once it took effect.
Looking closer at her peaceful expression, the lack of any struggle, it was clear she likely died in her sleep, never even knowing what hit her, the poison perhaps taking hours to fully manifest its deadly effect after initial contact.
But how was that possible?
I carefully checked her hands, her arms, visible skin – there were no obvious marks, no residue, nothing to indicate how the poison was administered. But, I recalled her service the night before – pouring wine with delicate, steady hands, her fingers brushing mine as she set down the cup; adjusting the collar of my robes as I slumped drunkenly on the couch… applying a cooling, scented oil to my temples with gentle fingertips, a common service offered to soothe patrons at the Pavilion.
The horrible realization dawned with a chilling certainty, cold washing over me, colder and more sickening even than the lingering frost in the room.
The wine was never the vector for the poison.
She was.
Somehow, the poisoner had applied the Silent Meridian Frost to her body, likely in a form that was harmless to her initially but could be transferred through seemingly innocent physical contact – perhaps a subtly poisoned ointment mixed with her cosmetics, a lotion applied to her hands, a powder dusted onto her robes, something she used or wore unknowingly, thinking it was merely an expensive gift, a perfume, or perhaps a secret token from a 'favored admirer'.
It was -- most likely -- a delayed-action contact poison, designed to activate within the target hours after exposure, perhaps triggered by body heat or even Qi interaction. It explained everything: why I felt unwell only after leaving the Pavilion, why the effect was delayed, and why she died much later, perhaps after the poison residue on her own skin, absorbed over hours, finally reached a lethal concentration for her vulnerable mortal body.
All of this implied that the poisoner wasn't just ruthless beyond measure, but also possessed considerable, insidious skills in alchemy or the dark arts of poison far beyond simple ingestion methods – someone capable of creating a sophisticated, targeted toxin that could kill hours later, bypass initial detection through taste or smell, and utilize an innocent, unsuspecting intermediary as the perfect, disposable delivery mechanism.
The list of people in the entire region who were capable of such a feat… was short indeed.
My earlier theatrical anger at Madam Xue, my calculated performances in the market, my smug enjoyment of the System's power and the burgeoning belief I was generating – all of the satisfaction from that evaporated like mist in the morning sun, leaving behind a residue of cold, profound rage mixed with a sickening sense of violation and… deep, unexpected shame.
This wasn't just an attack on me.
An innocent mortal girl, barely more than a child, who was just trying to earn a living in a system stacked against her… was used as nothing more than a poisoned dart aimed at me. She died simply for the sake of convenience. Because she was in the touching range of the wrong person.
This callousness… didn't sit well with the Leo Maxwell in me. I had a grim realization of the kind of world I now inhabited: it was a world where power meant everything. Where the lives of the powerless, like Mei'er, were worth less than dirt. Where mortals were easily sacrificed for the ambitions or vendettas of those above them.
A vow formed within me, cold and hard and sharp as the edge of the spirit sword Ruolan now held, solidifying my resolve into something unshakeable. I spoke it softly, fiercely, the words meant as much for myself, for Leo, as for the silent, grim-faced witness beside me, perhaps solidifying her loyalty further through this shared moment of grim purpose.
"They used her, Ruolan. Like a poisoned needle. Killed her just for a chance to get to me." My voice was low, tight, vibrating with controlled fury. "Whoever did this… whoever treats mortal life so cheaply… they won't get away with it." I met Ruolan's wide, perhaps frightened, but now fiercely understanding eyes.
"This isn't just about my survival anymore. This isn't just about family politics or face."
My gaze dropped back to Mei'er's still, silent form.
"This is about justice. For her." I took a deep breath, the unnaturally cold air filling my lungs.
And I will bring about that justice. I swear it.