Page 67 of The Wind Dancer
Lian Rui’s assistant was one of those people impossible to remember. A perfectly neutral face, cast in shadow by a hood, as if his features were deliberately obscured. He could stand in themiddle of a crowd, and no one would notice him until it was too late. His voice, low and monotonous, was like the rustle of paper. He seemed pragmatic in everything, from his movements to his tone, even in the way he held his brush over the paper, as if he were already deciding whether to sign my death sentence.
“Feng Lao,” his voice was as smooth as his black sandalwood desk. “I’ve been expecting you. I’ve already been informed you eliminated my mercenaries. Efficient. Have a seat.” His well-manicured hand gestured to the chair across from him.
I took another step, looking around the office and trying to spot where a threat could come from.
“You know my name, but I don’t know yours,” I replied. “But I understand that you’re Lian Rui’s right-hand man and a cult member.”
He nodded, as if this didn’t surprise him at all. Or perhaps he had already gone over all possible ways this conversation could’ve gone. He seemed like the type of man who left nothing to chance.
“That’s precisely what I wanted to talk about,” he said, glossing over introductions and putting the brush down on a holder. “About understanding and cooperation. About what you can offer us, and what we can offer you.”
I was silent, allowing him to continue his pitch. The more information I could get, the better. I could tell he was nothing like Fu Shang. He’d die during torture before he ever said a word. He seemed like he knew that a person who’s good at torture would slowly get more and more out of you, even if you broke your silence with a lie. And once they started, they wouldn’t stop until they extracted everything.
“I’ve gathered intel on you. The youngest master Shadow Walker in the guild’s history. Impressive. Your late mentor was even more impressive. He was a truly great man, may his rebirth be successful.” He nodded and continued. “But we’re here to talk about you today. You’re a pretty smart man, considering you’re still alive. But you made a mistake recently. And now you are in possession of something that interests us.”
I smiled, crossing my arms over my chest.
“The lotuses were sent to monitor and talk with me, not to kill me. That means you need me.”
“You’re smart, but your assumption isn’t quite correct. We can kill you at any moment.”
His slender fingers slid along the edge of the table, barely touching the wood. He wasn’t looking at me, but I knew he could see my every move.
“You have talent, Feng Lao. We could use it to have you step out of the shadow of the guild elders, to influence things you haven’t even thought about. Working for us would get you power and strength. You would be equal to a dragonblood, perhaps even surpass them.”
I felt a smile tug at the corners of my lips. A wolfish one.
“And become like Fu Shang? I think not.”
“Fu Shang was an idiot who liked playing a cultist and eventually actually became one. My lord doesn’t grovel for a meager scrap of power from the demons. Neither do I. We have our own path and are looking for those who can join us on it.” His voice remained calm, but the air suddenly felt even heavier, as if there was less oxygen in the room. “You’re relying on yourstealth. Streets help you, but can you really hide if we’ve already found you once?”
This wasn’t a threat, it was a fact.
I looked at the map of the city hanging behind him. I knew this city, every street, every alley. But now it felt like someone was gliding a knife through these streets, cutting escape routes.
“You are offering a deal, but what do I actually get out of it?” I asked, staring intently at his hooded face. “So far, you’ve only given me vague information. Everyone lies. I was taught to trust actions, not words.”
“You’d get to live.” He paused briefly. “And you’d get a chance to get out of the mess you’ve found yourself in. We can offer you protection. Or we can hunt you down no matter how hard you try to hide.”
I sighed, tilting my head to the side.
“And if I still refuse?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took the brush, dipped it in ink, and wrote a single character on a blank sheet. Then he looked up.
“Then you’ll die. Not today, or tomorrow, but when my lord wills it. We don’t leave loose ends.”
I let out a short, dry laugh.
“That’s an honest answer.”
He put his brush back down, crossing his arms.
“You’re not stupid, Feng Lao. You know that the best way out is to choose the right side. We won’t be your enemies if you aren’t ours.”
I ran my tongue over my teeth, thinking. They really needed the amulet, but he hadn’t even hinted at why.
I met his icy gaze.
