December 14, 1906
Nikolai crumpled the paper he had just read, the sound sharp and violent in the quiet room. His face twisted with fury as he stood so abruptly that the chair behind him scraped loudly against the floor. He began to pace, long strides carrying him back and forth like a caged animal, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he were fighting the urge to tear something apart. Each step only fed the fire burning in his chest.
He didn't know how long it took before he finally managed to calm himself, but eventually the heat in his chest began to fade. Only then did he realize how drenched he was in sweat. He wiped his face and neck, then grabbed the cup on his desk and took a long gulp of water. The coolness worked almost immediately, grounding him and steadying his breathing.
He set the cup down, eyes hardening once more, and asked in a low voice, "Are you certain the message was sent, and confirmed, personally by master?"
"You know how serious the contents of the message were," Oskar replied carefully. "I confirmed it personally with Anna. Master gave the instruction himself and told me to carry it out immediately so we could proceed with the conquest to the east as soon as possible."
As the words left his mouth, Oskar watched Nikolai closely. The anger still lingered in his friend's posture, even if the worst of it had passed. Oskar couldn't help but feel uneasy. He had known Nikolai for as long as he could remember, since they were children scraping by at the docks, running errands for scraps of food, dodging fists and knives just to survive another day. Back then, Nikolai had been many things; stubborn, proud, even reckless at times, but never this hot-tempered.
Something had changed.
Maybe it was the weight of responsibility. Running a growing gang, managing men, territory, and constant threats, it ground people down in ways Oskar had seen far too often. Or maybe it was fear, buried deep and left unspoken. Fear of failure. Fear of disappointing their master, the one person who had pulled them out of the dirt and given them purpose and hope.
Oskar understood that pressure all too well. They owed everything to Anna and their master. Food, shelter, dignity and a future. But anger like this was dangerous. It clouded judgment, invited mistakes, and mistakes in their world were paid for in blood, as he had seen far too often now.
Nikolai chuckled hollowly, "I just don't understand it, you know. We provided them with food, clothing, a roof over their head and regular pay but they could still betray us like this."
"It's not your fault, my friend," Oskar replied calmly. "Do you remember when we were still scraping by at the docks? When we saw a man shoot down his own employer and run off with the money? That's just how our world works. No matter how much you give people food, money and security, some will still betray us, especially if they sense weakness." He paused, then added more firmly, "So rein in your anger. What matters is that we are not those people. We will never betray those who helped us during our darkest times. Right?"
Oskar stood, patted Nikolai's shoulder twice, then refilled the empty cup on the desk.
"Here. Drink some more."
Nikolai accepted it and drained the cup in one go before returning to his chair. He sat there in silence for a while, then sighed deeply.
"You're right. We're not like them. It's just that…" He hesitated, rubbing his face. "I had hoped that with everything we provided, they would develop some sense of loyalty. Like what we feel toward master and Anna." He shook his head slowly. "How wrong I was. I don't even know how I'm supposed to face master after this."
"I know plenty of people who are loyal to us, Nikolai," Oskar said. "I trained many of them myself, remember? We just haven't learned how to separate the bad apples yet. Even my newly formed informants didn't catch these spies because we're still lacking experience." Seeing that his friend had finally calmed down, Oskar sat again and casually rested his boots on the desk. "And don't even think about avoiding master. He didn't even blame me at all. He just told me to work harder and carry out his instruction."
Nikolai let out a bitter chuckle, picked up the crumpled paper, and slowly smoothed it out.
"Three people," he muttered. "Three people infiltrated us and sold information to the Okhrana. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? One move from them, and everything we built could've been wiped out."
"Yes, even the master found it hard to believe they managed to infiltrate us this quickly." Oskar shook his head, troubled by the implications of spies selling their information to the Okhrana. If their master hadn't uncovered it in time, who knew what would have become of them? They were bold enough to fight rival gangs and individuals, but the government? That was an entirely different matter. The thought sent a chill down his spine as he recalled how relentlessly the authorities were hunting down revolutionaries.
Nikolai reread the letter once more, then sighed deeply. "Tell me everything that was discussed." He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. He should have been there instead of burying himself in the endless task of managing the gang. But disputes had erupted among the men, and he couldn't leave them unattended.
Oskar nodded slowly and began recounting what had been discussed during the meeting. There hadn't been much in terms of detail; rather, it was their master's message that had stirred everyone into an uproar. They debated how to counter the infiltration, how to resolve the crisis, and whether their plans in the east could still proceed. Then came their master's proposal, to turn the situation to their advantage, and if they could somehow make it work.
Their master's plan was bold, bordering on ruthless. The informants, no, the traitors, would not be eliminated, but broken and reshaped into something useful. Rather than extracting what they could and discarding them, the traitors would be bound to long-term service, forced to act as double agents against the Okhrana either through pain or through fear. If the traitor had family, a spouse, or children, those bonds would become chains. A single, well-placed threat would be enough to ensure obedience, turning the traitor into a tool that could be used again and again.
"But only two names on this list have families. The other one was a lone wolf who only recently joined us," Nikolai said grimly. He was not disturbed by the cruelty of the plan itself; what mattered to him was whether it would actually work. How could they be certain the traitors truly cared enough about their families to obey? There were simply too many holes in the plan.
Oskar nodded firmly. "It was discussed in the meeting. The one who just joined us would meet with an accident. The other two would be used if we could break them."
"And how can we be sure the Okhrana would believe whatever message we force these traitors to send when the time comes? This is far too dangerous."
Oskar scratched his head. "I don't know either. Master said he would handle it. We don't even know how he learned that these three are informants for the Okhrana. I think he has contacts inside the Okhrana itself… or maybe he's one of them. And we have really nothing to worry about." He lowered his voice at the last words. "What do you think?"
In truth, Nikolai had thought the same the moment he heard that their master would handle it, and he was certain the others had as well. But he quickly dismissed the idea. The fact that their master had warned them, along with the instructions he had given, was proof enough that he was not working for the Okhrana.
"As for him having contacts inside the Okhrana, maybe," Nikolai said. "But him being one of them? Do you really think he would warn us like this, hesitate so little to eliminate one informant, and force the others to work for us if he were on their side? Use your head, my friend." He crumpled the paper again and tossed it at Oskar.
Oskar immediately raised a hand to shield himself, and the crumpled paper struck his wrist. When he lowered his hand, a faint smile tugged at his lips. "You're right. I got carried away with my thoughts on the way here. But you also thought the same with what I said first, that master has contacts inside the Okhrana." He paused, then added, "I think that answers the question of where our master got his information."
He had been pondering where his master had obtained the information. His newly formed group within the gang hadn't detected a single traitor. They were like headless chickens, scrambling through the ranks while the real culprits stayed hidden. And yet, their master had uncovered them all without even interacting with the gang members. How impressive was that?
He should ask his master for more advice on how to spot traitors when they met again, he thought.
"Anyway," Nikolai said as he stood up, "whether Master has contacts there or not has nothing to do with us. What matters is that we do our job properly this time and don't disappoint him." He stretched his limbs, his eyes glinting. "We just need to make them obedient, right? I learned a thing or two from Master when he interrogated men in this place before. Let's go."
"What is it?" Oskar asked. Intrigue about what he learned.
Nikolai didn't answer and strode out of his office instead. With no other choice, Oskar followed after him, while calling out the question again and again.
The two of them never noticed the figure lingering outside the window throughout their conversation. When they finally left, Alexei stretched his limbs briefly before carefully climbing down from the second floor of the gang's headquarters. He landed without a sound, paused to scan the area for patrols, and only when he was certain the yard was clear did he move. With unhurried ease, he walked toward the wall, climbed it, and slipped over the edge.
Once outside, he continued on at a calm pace, keeping to the shadows and making sure he stayed out of sight. He had no desire to repeat the confrontation with the gang's patrols when he came back from his trip. One such mistake had been enough.
Alexei sat on the edge of a low rooftop, his legs dangling over the stone. From his vantage point, the Neva River stretched out before him, dark, steady, and immensely huge, its surface catching fragments of light and broken reflections along its banks. Not far from where he sat, the Liteyny Bridge cut across the water, a solid line against the night.
He had no intention of going home yet. The night was still young, and the city felt calmer when observed from above.
The conversation between Oskar and Nikolai put his mind at ease tonight. He had been wondering how he would explain the source of his information during the meeting, but in the end, he chose to say nothing and let them wrestle with it on their own. There were things he simply could not explain yet.
He knew he appeared as an enigma to them, and that they were already questioning who he was and where he had come from. Human minds were like that, he supposed, drawn to curiosity and doubt. There was nothing he could do to change it. Sooner or later, he would have to come clean to them, but not yet… and not to all of them.
His thoughts drifted back to his fifth visit to the Okhrana a few days earlier. He remembered casually asking Lieutenant Orlov about the gangs in the city, and how the lieutenant had immediately pulled their records from the vault. Eager to impress, Orlov went through each name in turn, explaining how the gangs divided the city into territories, stacking the records neatly across the desk as he spoke.
Alexei remembered the brief flicker of tension he felt when the name of his own gang came up, of how it had appeared suddenly two years ago and overthrown the group that once controlled the area. He had nodded along at the time, feigning interest in the other records and giving nothing away.
When the lieutenant finished, Alexei had asked to be left alone with the files. Orlov had agreed without suspicion and left him there. That was when Alexei picked up his own gang's record.
Reading through it, he had felt a quiet sense of relief. The information in the file was shallow, limited to surface details about the gang and its members. Kar, Oskar's name within the group, was listed as a senior figure, while Nik, Nikolai's name, appeared as the leader. It was accurate, but only in the way they had intended it to be.
That's where he had also found the traitors' names at the end of the file.
"Hey! You!"
Alexei was pulled out of his thoughts by the sudden shout. He glanced down and saw a man below, staring up at him and pointing. Alexei pointed at himself in return, just to be sure he was the one being shouted at.
"Yes! You! What are you doing up there? Don't you dare jump off my building! Get down here this instant!"
Of course not. I still plan to live through the next century.
Alexei chuckled softly at the man's outrage, gave him a casual wave, and melted back into the shadows of the night.
—-
Alexei slipped through his room's window and brushed the snow from his coat before setting it aside to dry. The faint movement stirred his wolves from their sleep, but once they recognized their master, they merely yawned, stretched, and settled back down.
Alexei shook his head at their lazy display. He would make sure they ran all day tomorrow on the training grounds, snow or not.
He went quietly to the bathroom, washed himself thoroughly, and changed into his most comfortable clothes. Afterward, he settled onto his bed and began to cultivate.
The speed of his cultivation had stagnated somewhat. He had been so busy these past few months that he had little time to cultivate. From writing his stories to running around the different ministries just to put up a facade that he was serious about his on-hand training. The drawback was worth it in his opinion since he got what he wanted from all his sacrifices. But it still stung a bit.
He needed to make up for the lost time he couldn't cultivate, yet from the things that were going. He couldn't help but wonder if that was still possible. As he grew older and his little organization in the slums expanded. His time had become so valuable that he couldn't afford to just sit still in his room and do nothing.
The balance between cultivation and real life had been broken. If he wanted to be the most powerful man in the world that even bullets couldn't penetrate his skin and achieve long life, then he could just say "F*ck the world and his family" and spend the rest of his life in seclusion.
On the other hand, if he wanted to live his life to the fullest as a reincarnator and save his family, then he needed to work for it, make time for it.
Alexei didn't want to choose between the two but it seemed fate wanted him to. If he could just replace sleep with cultivation, it could immediately solve his problem.
But he can't.
If he had found medicinal plants that could aid him in his cultivation, it could immediately solve his problem.
But he had not.
No wonder every cultivator in the cultivation world shed all their mortal connections in their pursuit of power. So this is why. They are distractions. He had no idea back then or rather he could not think of the reason because he was so busy surviving. But now… now he experienced it first hand.
Alexei suppressed the agitation he felt in his being. This is not the cultivation world anymore. He thought. Personal power alone could not help him achieve his goals. He thought about sisters, the always cheerful Olga, the mischievous Tatiana, the unruly Maria and the cute Anastasia. If he could just…
He sighed and decided then that his family would come first before his personal strength. He would just find a way to cultivate from time to time.
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