The return to Lin'an was different. Li Jin was no longer a frightened boy, overwhelmed by the city's chaos. He saw it now for what it was: a complex ecosystem, full of predators and prey, visible currents and hidden eddies.
He didn't return to the cheap inn from his first visit. He used the last of the school's money to rent a small room in the artisans' quarter, an anonymous place where no one asked questions. He put away his disciple's robe and donned the simple clothes of a laborer—an indigo tunic and dark trousers. He wanted to observe, not be observed.
For days, he did nothing but walk and listen. He frequented the teahouses where merchants discussed business, the taverns where guards complained about their pay, the markets where the common folk exchanged news and rumors. He was water, taking the shape of his environment, a face in the crowd.
The name of Lord Xiao came up often. It was a name spoken in hushed tones, with a mixture of fear and resentment. Lord Xiao, whose given name was also Lie, was a distant relative of the imperial family, a connection that granted him near-impunity. He controlled several of the city's merchant guilds through intimidation, enriching himself on the backs of shopkeepers and artisans. He was known for his cruelty and his greed.
Li Jin learned that the mercenaries who had visited his village were Xiao's men. He used them to "protect" the trade routes into the capital, which really meant shaking down anyone who couldn't afford to fight back.
He's building a web, the Tiger murmured, its voice a low rumble of appreciation for an effective predator. Every strand brings him money and power. To destroy the web, you must crush the spider.
Li Jin knew a direct approach was suicide. To attack a nobleman in his manor, even a corrupt one, was a capital crime. He would be hunted down and executed. His death would change nothing. Another spider would simply take this one's place.
No, he would not crush the spider. He would cut the strands of its web, one by one, until it starved.
He started with the simplest thread. He returned to the Jade Turtle apothecary. The old man recognized him instantly, his face falling in fear.
"By all the spirits, what are you doing here?" he hissed. "Xiao's men are looking for you everywhere! They have a description."
"I know," Li Jin said calmly. "That's why I've returned. Tell me, what other merchants is he pressuring?"
The old man hesitated, fear warring with anger. "All of us who aren't in his pocket. The weavers' guild, the potters... He demands 'donations' for the city's security. If we refuse, our shipments are 'accidentally' lost, or our shops 'accidentally' catch fire."
Li Jin nodded. It was the pattern he had seen in his village, but on a grander scale.
"The next time his men come to collect," Li Jin said, "tell them the collection has already been made."
The apothecary stared at him as if he were mad. "They'll kill me!"
"No," Li Jin replied. "They'll be confused. And confusion is a crack in the armor of fear." He left before the old man could protest further.
That night, Li Jin did not sleep. He pulled on dark clothes, concealing his face with a simple cloth. He moved across the city's rooftops, a silent phantom in the night. He was no longer Li Jin the disciple. He was an idea. A rumor.
He found the crew collecting Lord Xiao's "taxes." They were the same thugs he'd faced in the shop and the dyer's workshop. They were just leaving a weaver's house, a heavy sack of coins in hand, laughing crudely.
Li Jin followed them through a maze of alleys. When they were in a particularly dark and isolated passage, he dropped from the roof, landing soundlessly behind them.
They spun around, startled. Before they could draw their weapons, he was already moving.
He did not fight like last time. There was no dance, no redirection. He was the Tiger's controlled fury. A blur of motion. He struck wrists, knees, elbows. Sharp, precise blows designed to incapacitate, not to kill.
In less than ten seconds, all four men were on the ground, groaning in pain, their limbs refusing to obey them. They had barely even seen him. Just a shadow, an explosion of pain, and then the cold ground.
Li Jin took the sack of coins. He emptied it into his own satchel, then refilled the sack with rocks and gravel. He left the heavy sack beside the downed men.
He leaned close to the leader, the same man he'd faced in the dyer's workshop. The man stared up at him in pure terror.
"Tell your master," Li Jin whispered, his voice deliberately deeper, rougher. "The night has eyes. And the city is no longer his."
He vanished as quickly as he had appeared, melting back into the shadows.
The next day, the rumors started. A phantom vigilante. A demon preying on Xiao's men. The story was that the collectors had been found, their limbs temporarily paralyzed, with a sack of rocks where the money should have been. Lord Xiao reportedly flew into a rage, having his men flogged for their incompetence.
Li Jin repeated his actions the next night, in a different quarter. And the night after that. He intercepted the collections, neutralized the men without killing them, and replaced the money with stones. He then returned the money to the merchants, leaving it on their doorsteps in a small pouch before dawn.
Fear began to switch sides. Xiao's men grew jumpy, afraid of every shadow. The merchants, at first terrified, began to hope. Some even dared to refuse payment, claiming the "Rooftop Ghost" had already taken their share.
Lord Xiao could not let the defiance stand. He hired the best mercenaries in the city, promising a huge bounty for the Ghost's head. He posted guards on the rooftops, set traps in the alleys. The city became a chessboard.
Li Jin knew it. He could feel the pressure mounting. He was one man, and his enemy had nearly limitless resources.
You can't keep this up, the Tiger told him. It's a war of attrition. You'll make a mistake eventually. You have to strike harder. Strike the head.
Li Jin knew the beast was right. His actions, while effective, were just pinpricks. He had to attack the source of Xiao's power: his warehouses. That's where he stored his stolen goods and contraband.
He spent several days scouting. The main warehouse was a veritable fortress near the docks, guarded day and night. A frontal assault was impossible.
Then he had an idea. An idea that didn't involve force, but cunning. An idea the Tiger, in its thirst for direct confrontation, would never have conceived.
He used some of the recovered money to buy a merchant's clothes and forge shipping documents. He disguised himself as a trader from the north, looking to sell a cargo of rare spices. He requested an audience with Lord Xiao himself, claiming to have heard of his "efficiency" in business.
Xiao's greed was stronger than his caution. The prospect of getting his hands on a valuable cargo won out. He granted the audience.
Li Jin found himself in his enemy's manor. The opulence was sickening, knowing it was built on the suffering of others. Lord Xiao was a middle-aged man, his face puffy from excess, but his eyes were cold and calculating.
They negotiated. Li Jin played his part perfectly, appearing greedy but slightly naive. He let it be known that his cargo was moored at a discreet dock, and that he preferred a quick, quiet transaction, away from the prying eyes of the port authorities.
Xiao took the bait. He offered to store the cargo in his main warehouse "for safekeeping" before completing the sale. It was exactly what Li Jin had hoped for. Xiao was planning to steal the cargo.
That night, Lord Xiao went to the warehouse himself, with his best guards, to oversee the transfer of the supposed spice shipment. He wanted to make sure nothing went wrong.
But there was no ship. There was no cargo. There was only Li Jin, waiting.
Not for a fight. For a performance.
As Xiao and his men entered the warehouse, Li Jin, hidden on a beam in the shadows of the roof, used his new mastery. He didn't create a wind. He just whispered to the World-Breath. A small suggestion. A spark of intent.
One of the oil lanterns, hanging over a pile of contraband silk bales, swung slightly. Just enough for its flame to lick the dry fabric.
A small flame appeared. Then another. Within seconds, the fire caught, spreading with terrifying speed.
"Fire!" one of the guards screamed.
Panic seized the men. The warehouse was full of flammable goods. Soon, it was an inferno. Xiao, screaming in fury as he watched his fortune go up in smoke, was dragged outside by his guards.
From the roof of a nearby building, Li Jin watched the flames climb into the night sky. He hadn't hurt anyone. But he had just dealt a devastating blow to Lord Xiao's power.
Suddenly, he sensed a presence beside him. A figure in black had approached without him hearing a sound.
He turned, his heart leaping. It was Lin Mei, the assassin. She wasn't holding her blades. She was watching the fire, her scarred face illuminated by the flames.
"This was your work," she said. It wasn't a question.
Li Jin didn't answer.
"You ruined him without spilling a drop of blood," she continued, a note of admiration in her voice. "He'll go mad. He'll tear the city apart to find you."
"I fear so," Li Jin admitted.
She turned to him. Her cold eyes seemed less empty than before. "You can't do this alone. The spider may be wounded, but it is more venomous than ever. You need allies."
She pulled something from her sleeve. A small, black wooden tile, carved with a plum blossom.
"There are others in Lin'an who do not appreciate Lord Xiao's tyranny," she said. "People who move in the shadows. Show them this. They will know you are a friend."
She held the tile out to him. Their fingers brushed.
"Why are you helping me?" Li Jin asked.
She gave a barely perceptible smile. "Because you spared my life. In my world, a life-debt is the only thing that matters. And also... I'm tired of serving men like him."
She turned and vanished into the night as silently as she had come.
Li Jin looked at the tile in his hand, then at the fire ravaging his enemy's empire. He was no longer alone. The chess game had just become much more interesting.