32: Chapter 32 The Gray Wolf's Price

Zhao Heng stopped when he reached the third stone step. He tapped his narrow booklet against his palm twice. The sound was light, but it made the two grey-clad men following him stop in their tracks simultaneously.

"I need to record a few additional losses." Zhao Heng did not turn back. "You two go ahead and wait."

The attendant carrying the ink box glanced at Sect Master Di Kun before retreating to the corner of the mountain path with the box in his arms. The person carrying the sealed bag walked even further, keeping his hand in his sleeve pressed firmly against the mouth of the bag, only stopping once he reached a position where he could no longer hear the whispers in the pavilion.

In the pavilion halfway up the mountain, only the sound of the wind remained.

Sect Master Di Kun stood outside the broken railing, not entering the pavilion. On the ground inside, claw marks from the Yao Beast that had crashed through the previous night still remained. A corner of the stone slab was overturned, revealing the damp mud underneath. Zhao Heng walked to the broken railing and rested his fingers on a splintered piece of wood. A wood splinter pierced his fingertip, but he acted as if he felt nothing, simply snapping the splinter off.

"Sect Master Di, let's save our breath." Zhao Heng tossed the broken wood splinter down the hillside. "Someone from the Taichu Sect went down the mountain last night. The Red Snake Sect's outer Beast Taming Ground caught fire, and half the animal pens in the ravine collapsed. If you say these two events are completely unrelated, I might be able to write it down, but could you even listen to it without laughing?"

The smile in Sect Master Di Kun's eyes faded slightly.

The mountain wind rushed into the pavilion, blowing his black and gold robe. His short blade at his waist was brushed by the hem of his robe, the scabbard tapping lightly against the stone step.

"Is Recorder Zhao looking to investigate the truth," Sect Master Di Kun looked at him, "or are you looking to trade the truth for a price?"

Zhao Heng paused for half a breath, then laughed out loud. His laughter was not loud; it was dry and light, like the dust stirred up when flipping through old papers in a government office.

"Sect Master Di speaks more directly than I expected." He lifted his fingertip that had been pierced by the splinter, saw a small bead of blood, and wiped it off on his grey robe. "The Border Wasteland's Sect Affairs Bureau is not clean; you don't need to remind me of that. I have no Face to pretend to be innocent, either. But even among those who aren't clean, there's a distinction between those who eat the main course and those who drink the leftover soup. As a recorder in the External Affairs Office, I might not necessarily be getting the largest share."

Sect Master Di Kun did not reply, tapping his fingertip lightly against the copper ring on his sword hilt.

Zhao Heng's gaze fell on that copper ring before shifting back to Sect Master Di Kun's Face. "The dealings between the Red Snake Sect, the Border Wasteland markets, and certain high-ranking nobles sitting in the Sect Affairs Bureau haven't been going on for just a day or two. If you only have these few Black Bone Shards in your hands, you can't topple anyone. If you have anything else, and you take it to the wrong place, the Taichu Sect will be crushed first."

"Is Recorder Zhao offering a reminder?"

"Reminders aren't worth much." Zhao Heng pulled out his booklet, flipped to a blank page, and held his brush tip over the paper. "Transactions are what make money."

Sect Master Di Kun's gaze swept over the corner of the mountain path. The two attendants stood far away; the one carrying the ink box had his back to the pavilion, and the one with the sealed bag was turned sideways, looking into the forest, his posture resembling both a guard and someone wary of anyone approaching.

Zhao Heng had sent them away not to give the Taichu Sect Face. He wanted to name his price in private.

Sect Master Di Kun walked into the pavilion, his boots pressing over the gravel. A trickle of water was squeezed out of the damp mud beneath the stone slab, seeping to the edge of his shoe. He did not avoid it, simply standing across from Zhao Heng. "Go on."

Zhao Heng tapped the booklet with his brush handle. "If the Taichu Sect has stronger evidence in hand, hand it over to me for safekeeping. I can ensure that the grading side doesn't crush you immediately, and I can also let the Red Snake Sect's appeal sleep on the External Affairs Office's desk for a few days. A few days should be enough for the current Taichu Sect, right?"

Sect Master Di Kun smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. "Once the evidence reaches Recorder Zhao's hands, the Taichu Sect will only be left waiting for news. Waiting for you to get promoted, waiting for you to trade your life, waiting for the day you decide we aren't worth anything and sell the items to someone else."

Zhao Heng's brush tip paused, and a small hole was poked through the paper.

The wind swirled in from outside the broken railing, blowing the pages of the booklet up. Zhao Heng pressed his palm down on the paper, the smile on his Face not lasting long. "Sect Master Di, those words are hurtful."

"We just met, so it's not really hurtful." Sect Master Di Kun raised his hand to press on the broken Yao Beast horn embedded in the pavilion pillar, pulling it outward by an inch. The wooden pillar tore, emitting a dry, grating sound. "I will not hand over my lifeline to someone who just took away half a bottle of dregs."

Zhao Heng looked down at the piece of broken horn.

Sect Master Di Kun continued to apply force with his fingers, and the broken horn was pulled out from the pillar, bringing with it a trail of wood shavings and congealed blood scabs. He tossed the broken horn to Zhao Heng's feet; it rolled twice and stopped at the edge of Zhao Heng's grey robe.

The atmosphere in the pavilion turned cold.

In the distant forest, birds fluttered and took flight. The attendant carrying the ink box turned back to look, but was signaled by Zhao Heng to stay put.

Zhao Heng squatted down, picked up the broken horn, and weighed it in his hand. "If you won't hand over the evidence, then what does Sect Master Di want?"

"First, the grading must not be cancelled." Sect Master Di Kun held up one finger. "The Taichu Sect's losses can be written as miserable, but our qualification cannot be suspended."

Zhao Heng nodded. "The External Affairs Office can delay, and we can change the wording, but we cannot seal the final verdict for those above."

"Delaying is enough."

Sect Master Di Kun held up a second finger. "Second, if the Red Snake Sect submits an appeal, it cannot be processed immediately. Let the case file sit on your desk for a few days; how the Sect Affairs Bureau argues internally is your business."

Zhao Heng pressed the tip of the broken horn against the edge of his booklet, scratching a shallow mark. "How many days?"

"At least three days."

"Three days is too expensive."

"Two and a half days."

Zhao Heng looked up at him, the corners of his mouth finally curving up again. "Sect Master Di knows how to haggle."

"Coming from a broken Sect, one learns to fear poverty."

Zhao Heng's smile deepened slightly. "And the third?"

Sect Master Di Kun held up a third finger, his voice lowering. "A gap in the patrols near the Abandoned Mine Warehouse."

The tip of the broken horn stopped moving.

The shallow mark on the booklet did not continue downward. Zhao Heng's fingertip pressed against the base of the broken horn, reopening the small cut from earlier, and a bead of blood emerged again. He did not wipe it away.

Outside the pavilion on the mountainside, the wind suddenly turned cold. The sunlight in the forest was blocked by a cloud, darkening half of the pavilion.

Zhao Heng looked at Sect Master Di Kun, the layer of mercenary amusement in his eyes torn open. "You've found the Abandoned Mine Warehouse?"

Sect Master Di Kun did not answer.

He took the broken horn from Zhao Heng's hand and turned to insert it back into the crack in the pavilion pillar. The horn was not inserted deeply, with half of it exposed, looking like a nail stuck in the wood.

"Recorder Zhao just said that reminders aren't worth much." Sect Master Di Kun brushed the wood shavings from his palm. "Then let's trade for something valuable."

Zhao Heng stood in place, the cuffs of his grey robe blown by the wind against his wrist bones. He stared at the broken horn on the pavilion pillar for a moment, then suddenly closed his booklet.

"After the Hour of the Rat tonight, there will be a quarter-hour gap in the patrols on the North Slope of the abandoned mine." Zhao Heng said. "Whether it's true or false, Sect Master Di can judge for yourself."

As the words fell, he turned and left.

Sect Master Di Kun did not ask for the route, nor did he ask for the number of guards. Zhao Heng had said enough; asking more would double the price, and believing more would cost him his life.

When Zhao Heng walked out of the pavilion, his footsteps did not avoid the overturned stone slab, his boot soles stepping through the damp mud and leaving a shallow half-print. He summoned his two attendants back, and his grey robe fell back into the light and shadow of the mountain path.

When the attendant with the sealed bag passed by Sect Master Di Kun, a soft clinking sound came from inside the bag, like a porcelain bottle hitting a wooden box. The small bottle containing the Black Bone Shards had already entered the Sect Affairs Bureau's bag.

Sect Master Di Kun watched them go down the mountain until the three figures were swallowed by the forest path.

The Sect Protection Elder walked over from the direction of the mountain gate, the end of his wooden staff covered in gravel dust. "Is this person trustworthy?"

Sect Master Di Kun gazed at the end of the mountain path, his fingertip tapping on the broken horn on the pavilion pillar. The broken horn loosened, and a bit more wood shavings fell off.

"He is usable."

The Sect Protection Elder frowned. "Trustworthy and usable are two different things."

"Exactly." Sect Master Di Kun withdrew his hand. "I wasn't prepared to trust him either."

The Tower Defense Player slid down from a high spot, the half-repaired base of a crossbow still hanging on his back. "Sect Master, just now we saw him avoiding traps when he entered the mountain from the wall; it was ridiculous. This NPC's movement is at least that of an old schemer template."

The Chuunibyou Player came out from behind the door carrying a short spear, unable to suppress the corners of his mouth. "A quarter-hour gap on the North Slope of the abandoned mine? Sounds just like a hidden dungeon entrance. Sect Master, are we raiding tonight?"

The Sect Protection Elder glared at him. "Raiding? That's where the Red Snake Sect hides their goods. How many Cultivators, how many Formations, and how many hidden sentries are inside? And you think it's all finished with just a word like 'raiding'?"

The Chuunibyou Player hid the short spear behind his back, muttering, "I was just trying to liven up the pre-battle atmosphere."

Sect Master Di Kun turned and walked towards the Sect Masters Hall, the mountain wind dragging the hem of his robe behind him. As he walked, he said, "Summon everyone for a meeting. Call the Loose Cultivator Gu, too. What Zhao Heng gave us is a knife, not a path. If we take one wrong step tonight, the Taichu Sect will be pressed into the mud by both the Red Snake Sect and the Sect Affairs Bureau."

The Tower Defense Player immediately followed. "Then we'll calculate for the worst-case scenario."

"Calculate for the scenario where Zhao Heng also wants to eat people." Sect Master Di Kun did not stop walking. "Since the Abandoned Mine Warehouse was enough to make him show that expression, the things inside cannot just be counted as belonging to the Red Snake Sect."

In the pavilion halfway up the mountain, the broken horn embedded back into the pillar swayed in the wind. The cracked wooden seam widened by a fraction, and a few old blood scabs fell from the seam, landing beside the half-print in the mud that Zhao Heng had left behind.