A year slipped past in the blink of an eye.
What had begun as a quiet ripple in the pill markets had turned into a tide that washed through the Alchemy Division, the Mission Hall, and even the Disciplinary Hall.
The Blood Flood Pill, once a mundane entry on price boards, now breathed like a living thing that swelled and starved with the hour. rit changed hands at a fevered pace as grudges sharpened while rumors grew legs.
And eyes turned.
At first, those eyes were only annoyed disciples who found the pill out of stock on a day they bled too much in practice. Then they were Inner Court alchemists who could not keep up with orders.
Eventually they were elders who preferred their ledgers smooth and slow, not spiked with shortages followed by sudden abundance. All of them complained. All of them were told to be patient.
Supply and demand, said the clerks.
Markets breathe, said the deputy stewards. It will settle.
It did not settle...
On the fifth month of that year, three elders gathered in the eastern annex of the Alchemy Division. The walls were etched with runes that isolated sound. Lamps burned with a steady red light that did not flicker. Two zombie guards stood immobile by the doors, glossy armor reflecting the thin faces of the elders.
The First Elder of Procurent tapped a formation slab with one knuckle. Sheets of light began to layer themselves in the air, a cascade of numbers and routes that showed the flow of materials into the sect.
"Observe the timing," he said, voice dry. "Batches of Parasitic Blood Vine, Flesh Covering Red Fungus by the stack, and boxes of Bloodstone Vein powder. Sharp surges before each shortage, followed by a lull, then a glut of finished pills."
The Second Elder of Discipline leaned forward. Her eyes were sharp as pins. "rchants sll profit. That is not a cri even in our eyes."
The First Elder flicked his hand. More layers unfolded. Purchase tokens. Delivery slips. Stamped approvals. The network of petty traders, gatherers, valley stewards, and ferry hands beca a web of light.
"It is the sheer harmony of it that offends ," he said. "rchants collude, or soone is pulling their threads."
The Third Elder of Internal Affairs sat with his hands folded and his gaze steady. His sense had already swept the room twice since he arrived. "We punish only when the cause is clear."
The First Elder smiled thinly. "Then let us make it clear."
The next week, the Disciplinary Hall moved.
Jiangshi stood in lines that marked corridors through the market quarters of several cities. Cloaked officials in bone white masks opened chests, counted herb weights against stamped orders, and compared dates with the precision of an Imperial gold reserve’s ledger.
The sound of wood being cracked echoed in courtyards. A few traders resisted, then regretted it when the masked functionaries summoned restraining chains that glowed with sealing runes. Witnesses said the air itself slled of ink and old blood.
The conclusions made the halls colder.
Too many surges that arrived exactly when shortages bit deepest. Too many deliveries routed through two middlen who never appeared in person. Too many paynts collected at dead drops near outer fresh water streams that only night shift runners used.
The Disciplinary Hall published a notice that nad no culprit but nad the cri. Tampering with sect markets. Colluding to manipulate supply. Impeding mission readiness by starving elders of a vital pill at critical hours.
Punishnts dropped like cleavers.
Three rchant families were fined until their ledgers scread. Two valley stewards were stripped of rank and branded with failure brands that would not fade for a year. A dozen runners were caned in the shadow of the rit Hall and sent to the Slave District to work three months under binding oaths.
The announcent that followed was simple and terrifying.
The sect would not be toyed with.
SIGH
"So it’s finally the ti..."
Inside his cave, Han Yu read the notice twice, then folded it carefully and set it in the bottom drawer of his shelf.
He had expected the hamr eventually. n who lived by rules would tolerate the weather, but they would not tolerate invisible hands. He had stayed invisible. He had kept his fingers clean. He had never been too greedy at any single point.
But he had been relentless and that was enough to stir the hive.
He sat down. He breathed until his chest relaxed.
"Phase one is over," he murmured.
He had planned for this.
From the first month, he had arranged for a ledger that would survive scrutiny. Every purchase he made in his own na had a neat trail to the pills he sold openly. If a clerk or an elder bothered to do the arithtic, the numbers matched.
Not a pill more. Not a pill less. No miracle yields. No conjured stock. No secret batches.
His na did not appear on the material surges that tid the peaks. That mask had never t a clerk, had never bid in person, and had never spoken above a whisper through borrowed slips and drop boxes.
In other words, no thread could tie him to the timing gas. Soone else had to be blad. Soone else was blad. He felt no triumph. Only a asured, bitter relief that his precautions held.
He kept working.
The elders did not stop at punishnts. They made the gates tighter. A curfew fell across the sect for an entire month. Disciples fud. Everybody had to present tokens on exit and entry for another month after the curfew was lifted.
ssengers complained that their routes took twice as long. Traders gnawed their nails because of the multiple checks and verifications they had to go through. The price boards shook as if they had been facing multiple tremors.
And then the decree arrived.
All Blood Flood Pills would be sold and bought through the Alchemy Hall. Direct exchanges were forbidden. All suppliers must register quantities, receive hall stampings on each lot, and accept a controlled floor and ceiling price that would be adjusted by a posted formula each week.
Violators would lose their supply privileges and repeat violators would face disciplinary action.
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