The black market city of Yan City stretched at the foot of the Golden Sparrow Thieves Guild's sacred mountain like a breathing beast, half-hidden beneath layers of drifting morning mist. From afar, the rising haze of smoke, the clutter of crooked roofs, and the faint clang of market bells painted a picture of chaos. Up close, it was even more alive—veins of alleyways pulsing with noise, lanterns swaying like watchful eyes, voices rising and falling in endless waves. The mist curled around the stalls and rooftops as if the entire city wished to remain half-concealed, half-exposed, daring outsiders to test their fortune within its belly.
Yan City was not like the polished sect cities Lu Mao had heard about in rumor. This was no noble capital or refined scholarly place. It was raw, ruthless, yet strangely intoxicating. Every corner seemed to hide a hand reaching for coin, every alleyway whispered of betrayal and fortune. Here, even before the sun fully revealed itself, the city pulsed with a dangerous rhythm: hawkers barking the miraculous properties of pills whose ingredients probably came from gutters; gamblers shouting over dice and cards; guards marching in neat lines only to turn their eyes the other way when a pouch was cut free. Smoke from roasting meats curled into the morning air, blending with the metallic tang of blood still drying in forgotten gutters.
For Lu Mao, this was overwhelming and exhilarating all at once. Standing shoulder to shoulder with his three new companions at the cracked stone archway that marked the city's southern gate, he felt both the thrill and weight of what lay ahead. His sharp eyes, honed in narrower alleys of childhood survival, darted across the chaos like a crow seeking glitter. He saw jewel-encrusted trinkets piled high at one stall, rare herbs exhaling earthy fragrance from another. A mock duel erupted between gamblers who had bet more than they could afford, their knives flashing, while opportunistic onlookers leaned in with greedy interest. Even the shadows seemed to glint with hidden eyes, watching, weighing, judging.
Compared to the crooked alleys of his youth, Yan City was a predator's jungle. And predators always ate the careless.
"Keep your mouths shut and your eyes open," Li Xian said softly, her voice calm but cutting through the din like a blade through silk. She stood in front of them, long legs in dark Guild robes gliding as though she floated above the filth rather than walked through it. Her presence made even the loudest nearby merchant hesitate before resuming his call. Bao Fu, the tallest of the boys but by far the most easily distracted, found his pulse stuttering again just from the curve of her smirk. She wasn't just beautiful—she was dangerous, and he could feel it in his bones.
"You've been brought here for one reason," Li Xian continued, her words wrapped in steel despite the softness of her tone. "To prove you're worth keeping. This is your trial."
"Trial?" Yan Mei asked quietly, tilting her head. Her expression was as unreadable as always, but there was a flicker of interest in her dark eyes.
Li Xian's lips curved faintly into the kind of smile that promised knives hidden behind silken words. "Simple. Steal. Anything of value. Enough to cover a night's lodging. Do it before evening, or don't bother coming back. Fail, and you're expelled. Permanently."
Her gaze swept across the four apprentices, lingering longer on Lu Mao than the others, as though already suspecting the spark of mischief he always carried.
Lu Mao's lips curled upward into a grin. His pulse quickened with the rush of it. "That's it? Steal in a city run by thieves? Isn't that like stealing fish from a fishmonger?" He chuckled, brushing invisible dust from his shoulder as if brushing away caution itself. "Sounds fun."
Chen Yuan frowned, his usually steady face lined with worry. He adjusted the satchel slung across his back as though seeking reassurance from its weight. "This city is crawling with traps," he muttered. "If we're caught—"
"Then you'll be flogged, crippled, or worse," Li Xian interrupted smoothly. She spoke without drama, as if stating the color of the sky. "Welcome to the Outer Sect. Survive, or leave."
Bao Fu swallowed hard, bravado faltering, but his mouth still moved faster than his sense. "Easy for you to say, Senior Sister," he said, voice half-groan, half-plea. "You look like you could steal a man's soul with just a wink."
Li Xian's eyes narrowed briefly, and the air seemed to tighten around them. But instead of anger, she let the words linger, her lips curving in faint amusement. "Flattery will not keep you alive," she murmured. A pause. "But… it's not untrue."
Bao Fu's eyes widened as his cheeks flushed crimson, and Yan Mei gave him a look of sharp disdain.
Before any of them could say more, Li Xian waved her hand, dismissing them like one would shoo a pack of stray dogs. "Evening falls, return with your tales… or don't return at all. Go. Prove yourselves."
The four exchanged glances, a mix of dread, excitement, and disbelief. Then, with no other choice, they plunged into the chaos of the streets.
—
Their first steps into the market were like stepping into a river that tried to sweep them away. The air was thick with overlapping calls—vendors hawking everything from demon beast pelts to questionable talismans, dice cups rattling in alleys, beggars whispering promises of fortune-telling if only given a coin. The smell of frying oil mixed with incense and sweat, wrapping them in the raw scent of survival.
Everywhere Lu Mao's gaze landed, he found puzzles. A gambler with twitching fingers hiding dice in his sleeve. A pair of guards who exchanged glances every time a coin pouch jingled too loudly. A child darting under tables with a hand quick enough to vanish a roasted bun in a blink. Every alley seemed like a snare. Every passerby a wolf in sheep's robes.
"Alright," Chen Yuan muttered once they had ducked into a side alley, away from the heaviest traffic. His eyes darted up to the rooftops, down to the gutters, across every corner. "We need a plan. This isn't a street brawl. One wrong move and—"
"Boring," Bao Fu cut in, waving a meaty hand. His attempt at bravado sounded forced, but his grin was wide. "Just grab something shiny and run. Look at that fat merchant over there—his pouch could feed us for months!"
"And get us caught in seconds," Yan Mei said dryly, her sharp eyes narrowing. "No. Subtlety. Observation. Timing. Wait for weakness, then strike."
Lu Mao leaned lazily against the wall, listening to the back-and-forth like a cat entertained by mice bickering. His grin widened. "You're both right," he said at last. "But why settle for just stealing? If we're going to succeed, we should do it with style."
Their heads turned toward him, suspicious but waiting. He pointed subtly toward a stall at the far end of the square, where a corpulent merchant with rolls of flesh spilling over his belt laughed boisterously as he displayed glittering jewels and gaudy trinkets. His guards, two burly men with halberds, stood nearby with expressions of boredom that suggested more interest in gambling than guarding.
"Look at him," Lu Mao murmured, voice low, eyes glinting. "Greedy. Overconfident. Guards are lazy. His pouch is fat, his arrogance fatter. He thinks himself untouchable. Which makes him perfect prey."
Bao Fu nearly bounced in place. "Finally! Let's go."
Yan Mei shook her head. "Too obvious. He's bait. Someone like that screams trap."
"Obvious is perfect," Lu Mao countered smoothly. "No one ever thinks someone would be stupid enough to strike so openly. Which is why it will work."
Chen Yuan exhaled through his nose, indecision warring across his face. Finally, he nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But no rushing. We move carefully."
Lu Mao's grin turned sharper. "Exactly. Let's have some fun."
—
The plan unfolded with precision.
Lu Mao was the first to move, melting into the crowd with ease. His steps followed the rhythm of the market's noise, his shoulders brushing against strangers until he was just another shadow in the chaos. With a flick of his fingers, he sent a coin spinning across the cobbles, the sharp metallic clink drawing one guard's gaze. A second coin arced into a gutter. Both guards' eyes followed instinctively, muttering under their breath.
At that exact moment, a shimmering phantom double of Lu Mao darted past, conjured from the thin mist of the market and the faintest wisp of Qi. The guards cursed, lunging after the illusory thief, halberds clattering against the cobbles.
With the stall momentarily unguarded, Chen Yuan slipped forward. His movements were precise, his breathing controlled, each step calculated. His fingers brushed against the merchant's pouch, sharp nails slicing through the cords like silk. The pouch slid into his sleeve without a sound.
Bao Fu played his part next, stumbling forward with the clumsy swagger of a drunkard. He flailed into the stall, arms knocking over baubles with loud clatters. "Ah! Sorry! Sorry! My hands!"
The merchant whirled, face red with fury. "You fool! Do you know how much these cost?!"
As the fat man's fury rose, Yan Mei slipped gracefully beside him, her voice smooth and sweet, offering apologies and deftly helping him pick up fallen ornaments. Her presence drew his attention entirely, his greedy eyes softening at her delicate demeanor.
In the midst of this orchestrated chaos, Chen Yuan passed the stolen pouch into Lu Mao's hand. Without hesitation, Lu Mao vanished back into the crowd like a ripple swallowed by a greater tide.
Moments later, the four regrouped in a narrow alley, their breaths fast, eyes gleaming.
"We… did it," Chen Yuan whispered, almost in disbelief.
Bao Fu opened the pouch eagerly. His eyes widened at the weight of gold coins glinting within. "By the heavens! We could rent a mansion!"
Yan Mei smirked faintly. "Don't get cocky. That was luck as much as skill."
Lu Mao leaned against the wall, spinning a coin between his fingers. His grin widened. "Luck? No. That was style. Admit it—we were good."
Yan Mei rolled her eyes, though the faintest tug of a smile betrayed her agreement.
—
By evening, they returned to Li Xian. She sat beneath a swaying lantern, arms folded, eyes sharp as she untied the pouch and weighed the coins in silence.
Finally, she raised a brow. "Not bad. You didn't die. You weren't caught. Better than most."
Her gaze lingered on Lu Mao, her expression unreadable. "And you… already thinking like a thief. Dangerous."
Lu Mao smirked, cocky as ever. "Dangerous is just another word for exciting."
For the first time, the faintest shadow of amusement flickered across Li Xian's lips. "We'll see if that arrogance survives the week. Come. Time to show you your residence."
—
The residence was a long, creaking wooden hall at the edge of the city, its lanterns dim, its air thick with the musk of sweat and damp straw. Seven bunks were already filled by older disciples whose eyes gleamed with the kind of predatory sharpness honed only by constant survival.
"Well, well," one senior drawled, lips twisting into a sneer. "Fresh meat."
Another snickered. "The Guild must be desperate, sending us children."
Bao Fu bristled immediately. "Who are you calling—"
A firm hand clamped his shoulder. Lu Mao shook his head, his grin sharp as ever. "Ignore them. Dogs bark loudest when they're threatened."
The senior's face darkened, but Li Xian's voice cut in, calm yet edged with authority. "Enough. They've earned their place. Whether they keep it or not—that is on them."
Her gaze lingered on Lu Mao once again. "This hall will not shield you. Fight for respect, or be trampled. The Guild cares not."
With that, she turned and left, her heels clicking sharply against stone as the night swallowed her figure.
The seven seniors chuckled, eyes gleaming as they loomed over the newcomers. The weight of unspoken challenge pressed down like a suffocating blanket. Tonight would not be easy.
But when the four boys finally settled into their bunks, Lu Mao lay back with his hands folded behind his head, staring at the rafters with a grin tugging at his lips.
"What's the worst? Expulsion? Please. I'd steal the sect's gates on my way out."
Yan Mei sighed. "You're impossible."
"Thank you," Lu Mao murmured, closing his eyes.
—
Far above Yan City, on the mountain peak where lanterns glowed softly against the dark, Madam Yan sat across from Old Wu in a quiet chamber. Her voice carried bitterness edged with weariness.
"You left me. Remember? I begged—choose me or the boy. You walked away."
Wu's face was calm, weathered by years, his eyes holding unfathomable secrets. "And now he is here anyway," he said simply.
Madam Yan's expression softened, her lips trembling for the briefest heartbeat. "Fate is cruel. But I will be fair to him. He will rise or fall by his own wings."
Wu nodded. "That is all I ask."
Her gaze lingered, almost pleading. "Why not stay? Reclaim your place. You were once the strongest Master Thief. Train him yourself."
But Wu only shook his head. "Threads I follow… secrets I cannot share."
Her laugh was sharp, bitter. "Secretive as always. You never trusted anyone—not even me."
Wu's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Perhaps that's why I still live."
She turned away, whispering softly to the night beyond the chamber. "Then at least watch over him. Even from afar."
Wu's answer was quiet but steady. "Always."
—
Back in the residence, Lu Mao's breathing slowed, dreams curling with laughter, danger, and the glitter of stolen gold. Yet above, on her balcony overlooking the mist-veiled city, Madam Yan's eyes lingered.
"You don't even know whose wings you've inherited, boy," she murmured. "Fly carefully."