The forest that bordered the Amber Viper Clan's territory was thick with mist, its roots twisted like coiled serpents. The Black Dragon team crouched within its cover, cloaks pulled close, eyes fixed on the distant walls of the clan's sprawling city. The faint green glow of poison wards shimmered against the evening sky, their serpentine patterns making even the shadows feel dangerous.
For three days, they had lingered here—watching, listening, and waiting.
"Another patrol shift," Chen Yuan murmured, scratching rough marks onto a flat stone with a shard of metal. His eyes narrowed. "They change every three hours, clockwise along the perimeter. But…" He frowned, rubbing the mark out, then redrawing. "The pavilion guards switch at odd intervals. No pattern. That's deliberate."
Li Xian leaned over to glance at the markings. Her expression was calm, though her sharp eyes betrayed approval. "Good work. Amber Vipers have always excelled at poison arrays and psychological traps. Unpredictability is one of their greatest defenses."
Chen Yuan allowed himself a thin smile. Praise from Li Xian was rare.
Nearby, Bao Fu groaned, sprawled across a branch with his hands behind his head. "Unpredictable guards, invisible poison wards, alchemists who sneeze venom… Remind me why we're still here instead of robbing some drunk merchant in Qin city again?"
Yan Mei's lips curved faintly as she perched above them, her hawk-like eyes scanning the compound below. "Because robbing drunks doesn't make us stronger. And you'd get caught."
Bao Fu sat up immediately, flustered. "I wouldn't! I'm a master of stealth!"
"You snore when you sleep," Yan Mei replied flatly.
The others smothered chuckles. Even Lu Mao's lips twitched, though his gaze soon hardened again as he stared at the city walls. His mind churned, not on Bao Fu's antics, but on what they had learned since their arrival.
The pill. The so-called Spirit Transcendence Pill.
It was no longer rumor. Whispers in taverns, hints in coded exchanges between merchants, even the behavior of rival sects confirmed it. Something extraordinary had been born here, and it revolved around a boy named Wei Qing.
Wei Qing. Seventeen years old. Already the disciple of Master Zuo Han, one of Amber Viper's most reclusive alchemists. A prodigy who wielded spiritual flames of blue-gold, said to refine pills to a purity even elders struggled to achieve. His fame had risen like wildfire—yet his movements were cloaked in secrecy.
"Only seventeen…" Lu Mao muttered to himself one night as they rested around a faint ember fire. He clenched his fists. "At fifteen, I was still fighting for scraps in the outer sect. Now this boy is being guarded like a treasure."
Li Xian overheard. Her voice was calm, but her words sharp. "Don't let envy cloud your mind. Wei Qing's gift is real, but gifts attract predators. The brighter the flame, the darker the shadows it casts."
"And yet," Lu Mao countered, eyes burning, "flames also light the path forward. If he can refine a pill that shatters bottlenecks, the world will bow. And if we don't seize this chance, we'll forever kneel in his shadow."
Their eyes locked for a heartbeat—Li Xian's stern warning against Lu Mao's fierce ambition—but neither spoke further. Instead, silence reigned until Bao Fu returned from one of his nightly ventures with surprising news.
He burst into their hidden camp, cheeks flushed, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. "You won't believe what I heard in the tavern!" he whispered harshly, nearly tripping over Chen Yuan's notes. "They're planning a grand auction. The Amber Vipers will open their gates to cultivators from across the realms. Elders from the Nine Hills, merchants from the Frost Coast—everyone's coming."
Yan Mei arched a brow. "An auction?"
Bao Fu nodded furiously. "Yes! And what's more, some say the auction will showcase 'innovations in pill refinement.' They didn't say it outright, but—come on—what else could it be? It's gotta be connected to Wei Qing."
Chen Yuan rubbed his temple. "Which means security will be even tighter. Elders, masters, hidden formations… Infiltrating during the auction will be suicide."
"Not suicide," Lu Mao said, his eyes sharp as knives. "Opportunity. Chaos is the best cover. Guards distracted, attention scattered, unfamiliar faces flooding in. That's when shadows move unnoticed."
Li Xian's lips pressed into a thin line. "This mission was already beyond Tier-1 capability when Wei Qing was moved from Fang Master Faction to the Golden Snake Pavilion. That pavilion…" Her gaze turned cold. "It is the jewel of Amber Viper. Its wards are triple-layered, its disciples elite, its masters merciless. Even Tier-3 factions avoid provoking them."
"So we fall back?" Bao Fu asked hopefully.
"Yes," Li Xian answered firmly. "That would be wise."
But Lu Mao's voice cut through the air, steady and unyielding. "Wise men stay weak forever. We don't have the credits to keep breathing cautiously. Our faction is at the bottom. If we withdraw, we'll starve, we'll fade, and we'll be forgotten. I won't accept that."
Silence fell. Even the insects outside seemed to pause.
Yan Mei spoke next, her tone soft yet unwavering. "I'll stand with Lu Mao." Her gaze flicked briefly toward him, and though she said no more, the weight of her loyalty was clear.
Chen Yuan exhaled slowly. "Always reckless…" He smirked faintly. "But reckless plans are better than no plans. I'll help map the patrols deeper inside. If we move during the auction, we'll need precise timing."
Bao Fu groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up. "Of course! Let's just dive into the snake pit and poke their queen while we're at it!" But then he sighed, shoulders slumping. "Fine. I'm in. Somebody's gotta keep you idiots alive."
Li Xian's eyes lingered on each of them in turn. Finally, she nodded once, though her voice carried steel. "Very well. But if you follow me into this, you do so knowing failure means death. There will be no room for mistakes."
⸻
Preparations consumed the next week.
Chen Yuan slithered through alleys, disguised as a beggar, memorizing patrol routes. Each night he returned with maps etched onto wood scraps, each mark sharper than the last. Yan Mei, silent as a shadow, scaled rooftops and perched in treetops, her Eyes of the Hawk piercing through the faint shimmer of hidden poison wards. She would return with sketches of glowing serpentine runes, explaining their reach and lethality.
Meanwhile, Bao Fu spent nights in taverns and markets, feigning drunkenness to loosen the tongues of low-ranking disciples. Once, he slipped a few glimmer crystals into a servant's palm and returned with news of Wei Qing's new escorts—two mid-stage Spirit Masters who never left his side.
Li Xian gathered them each evening to teach. By firelight, she traced invisible patterns in the air. "These are alchemy inscriptions. Poison wards. See this curve? Touch it, and venom floods your lungs. This spiral? It triggers silent alarms. You must sense them with Martial Awareness before you act." Her voice was stern, her patience finite. "One misstep, and no antidote will save you."
Lu Mao watched closely, fingers tracing the air beside hers. His father's lessons echoed in his mind locks, traps, vaults. Thieves thrived not by strength, but by touch. And now, here, his skills had purpose again.
At night, he meditated, feeling the red shard pulsing faintly in its vault within him. Power he did not yet understand, but power nonetheless. If Wei Qing was a genius who forged miracles with fire, then Lu Mao would carve his miracles from shadows.
⸻
The day of the auction drew closer. The city around the Golden Snake Pavilion stirred with unusual life. Merchants arrived with carts of exotic goods, cultivators of all ranks crowded inns and tea houses, and banners in the streets fluttered with golden serpents.
From their vantage point in the jungle, the Black Dragon team watched.
"Soon," Lu Mao whispered, eyes locked on the pavilion's shining spires. His lips curled into a faint smile. "When snakes bare their fangs, they forget the shadow behind them."
And in that shadow, the Black Dragon sharpened its claws.