The thick blue smoke that rose from the burning slave market hung over Lower Yulong City for three days—an eerie testament to the wound inflicted upon the system's flesh. The smell of charred wood and scorched leather mingled with a new scent: the scent of rising fear, now creeping toward the upper tiers. In the mansions of the Pure-Blooded, laughter was no longer as loud. There were whispers, and exchanged glances carrying a single question: What if the fire spreads?
The Yun Clan Palace stood at the eye of the storm. Yun Zihan, the young noble who once ruled the blood-soaked hunting arenas, paced erratically across his lavish study. His youthful face had grown pale, and in his eyes was a strange gleam: fear. The image of the flames consuming the slave market—a source of his clan's wealth and amusement—haunted him.
"Filthy Blood Doll…" he muttered like a curse, gripping a wine cup with a trembling hand. "Just a Muddie! How dare she?!"
In the shadow of a marble column sat Master Chen. He was unchanged—back straight, hands folded over his knees, his cold gray eyes watching his master unravel.
"She is not just a Muddie, Lord Yun," Chen said in his flat tone that sliced the air like a blade. "She is a weapon. Behind her is a mind. A mind that calculates, plans, and strikes where it hurts." He turned his gaze toward the open window, where the distant smoke was still visible. "This… is a declaration of war."
"War?!" Yun Zihan exploded. "On whom? The filth? Go get me her head! And the heads of all who aided her!"
"I have, my lord," Chen answered in that deadly calm. "I've deployed search squads. Burned hovels. Hung corpses. But…" he paused, choosing his words carefully, "...but the fear that used to choke them… is shifting. I've seen their eyes. They're not just afraid. They are... waiting."
"Waiting for what?" Yun Zihan shook his cup, spilling his fine wine onto the silk rug.
"For another fire," Chen said plainly. "For another doll. For a rebellion."
The word rebellion made Yun Zihan shiver. A forbidden word. One that struck at the very foundations of the system. "A Muddie rebellion? Impossible! Their blood is corrupt! Their minds are weak!"
"Their blood may be muddy, my lord," said Chen, voice lower now, "but their rage... is pure. And deadly. And now, they have a leader." He raised his eyes to meet Yun Zihan's. "And their leader... knows how to play with fire."
At that moment, a trembling servant entered, bowing so low he nearly kissed the floor. "My lord... the Imperial Envoy... has arrived!"
• • •
Imperial Envoy Liang Jiuyong was unlike other court envoys. He wore no ornate silks nor ivory fans. Instead, he was clad in a simple black robe, the Pure-Blooded mark—a golden flower inside a red circle—stamped plainly upon his brow. His face was gaunt, cheekbones sharp, eyes sunken and dark like bottomless wells. He said little. His presence alone was enough to weigh down the lavish reception hall of the Yun estate with unbearable gravity. Even Yun Zihan, for all his arrogance, bowed deeply, shaken.
"Lord Liang," Yun Zihan whispered. "A great honor…"
Liang Jiuyong barely acknowledged him. He walked slowly to the large window overlooking the lower city. The blue smoke now appeared as a thin ribbon—but it was still visible.
"Smoke," Liang finally said, his voice soft as silk—but it made Yun Zihan's body bristle. "Smoke from a burned slave market. Tell me, Yun Zihan, how is the Yun estate managed so poorly that it burns so easily?"
Yun Zihan trembled. "Vermin, my lord! A mad Muddie called the Doll—"
"I know the name," Liang cut him off, not turning. "I know the details. I know that the 'Muddy Blood Doll' burned down the symbol of your authority right in front of everyone you rule. And I know... that you failed to see the ember for what it was." He turned finally. His dark eyes stabbed through Yun Zihan like blades. "The Emperor is displeased. Fire in the lower quarters... may rise."
"We will capture her!" sweat poured down Yun Zihan's brow. "Master Chen, my chief enforcer, is pursuing her personally!"
Liang Jiuyong finally looked at Master Chen. It was a cold, assessing stare—like a man inspecting a blade. "Chen Yuan," he said the name as though reading from a scroll. "I've heard of you. A loyal hound... But even good dogs can be fooled." He took one step forward. The pressure in the room thickened. "Where are they now? This 'cell'?"
Master Chen didn't hesitate. "They're hiding like rats in the city's underbelly or fled to the forest. But we will smoke out every burrow and tree—"
"Time is short," Liang cut him off. "The Emperor does not like waiting. Or fire." He pointed his thin finger toward the smoke. "This isn't just a fire. It's a message. One that says: 'We are here. We can reach you.'" He paused, then added words that froze every drop of blood in the room: "Thus, the Emperor sends me to be... the Lord of the Sky here. To rip out this flame from its roots. By any means necessary."
He smiled at last. A smile that never touched his dark eyes. "Lord Yun, Master Chen... you will be my tools. And any tool that fails its task... will be replaced." His look at Yun Zihan left no doubt—nobles were no longer safe from falling.
• • •
Far away in the Wailing Mountain Caves, where jagged black rocks jutted like the teeth of a beast, the Muddy Blood Cell tried to build a miniature world. The main cave was damp and cold, but secure. Kai, the first to stand up, organized sentries with Mei Ling's three grandsons. Mei Ling herself treated minor wounds with herbs she'd gathered. The scent of fear had lessened—replaced by a tense, fragile hope.
Jin Lian sat on a high rock near the cave's mouth, eyes fixed on the distant city. The smoke was gone now—but its image was etched into her mind. In her hands, she held a faded blue cloth—a piece of a slave child's tunic, who'd died on the journey here from exhaustion. A new symbol of the cost.
"Was it worth it?" she whispered. Ling Xiao's death for the symbolism of fire? The child's death for the freedom of forty?
"Wrong question," came Mo Tianyin's voice behind her. He stood beside her, eyes on the same horizon. "There is no 'worth' in the equation. Only this: Did we do what needed to be done? And will we continue?"
She turned to face him. In his gray eyes, she saw the reflection of the fire they'd lit. "They've sent someone. Someone dangerous. Liang Jiuyong. Lord of the Sky."
Mo Tianyin showed no surprise. "I knew they would. Liang Jiuyong is no ordinary noble. He's the Emperor's dirty hand. A master at crushing rebellions before they bloom." A cold, calculating look. "He'll be a good test."
"A test?" Jin Lian flared. "They'll kill anyone they suspect! They'll burn the whole lower city to find us!"
"Exactly," Mo Tianyin said with terrifying calm. "Fear will rise again. But this time... it will have two faces: fear of them... and fear of us. And those who cannot bear both... will choose the stronger side." He picked up a pebble, tossed it, caught it. "Liang Jiuyong thinks he owns the sky. We'll show him that the shadows own the earth."
He laid out his plan. It wasn't a direct strike—it was a psychological maneuver:
Turn the Hunt into a Trap: Use the Whisper Network to spread false reports about the cell's movements, exhausting Liang's forces and scattering his attention.
A Second Symbolic Blow: Not fire this time. Something subtler—stealing a precious object from the heart of the upper city. Something belonging to Liang's own household. Not for its value—but for the message: Your fortresses are not safe.
Sow Internal Fear: Liang was a cold killer—but he functioned within a system. That system relied on trust. They would plant forged evidence of betrayal or negligence among Yun's men and Liang's own guard.
"But… how do we steal from Liang's estate?" Jin Lian asked, stunned by the audacity.
Mo Tianyin smiled, pulling from his sleeve a small bronze medallion. It bore the sigil of the Muddied Blood—a lotus—but hidden within was the carving of a spider. "This... is our key. In the upper city, among Muddied servants in the grandest palaces, some wait for a signal. They're called Shadow Spiders. They are our eyes and hands up there." He placed the medallion in Jin Lian's hand. "And you... will be the spider who weaves the theft."
• • •
Returning to Lower Yulong City was like descending into a new kind of hell. The smell of ash now mingled with the stench of orchestrated terror. Patrols of both Pure-Blood and Mixed-Blood guards, marked by the red circle and golden flower insignia of Liang Jiuyong, roamed the streets. Random inspections, arrests, and new corpses—this time not just Muddied Blood, but even Mixed-Bloods accused of "sympathizing with rebellion." Master Chen was visible, personally leading the hunts with cold precision, but his eyes searched for more than corpses.
Jin Lian, disguised as an elderly Mixed-Blood servant (tangled hair, ragged but cleaner clothes than the lowest class, her blue mark painted over with faded dye), moved cautiously through the busy alley near the upper city gate. She carried a basket of rotten vegetables—her temporary passport. In her palm, hidden beneath the basket's rim, was the bronze medallion. She was looking for the spider mark.
On a ruined wall near a sewage canal, she found it—a small spider scratched faintly into a stone, with an arrow pointing toward a filthy tavern called The Broken Cup.
She entered the tavern. Inside, it was dark, thick with cheap smoke and the stench of spoiled wine. Mixed-Blood men argued loudly. A few Muddies served in silence, eyes lowered. Behind the bar stood a hulking man with one arm and a scar slashed across his left eye. The spider mark was discreetly engraved on the metal clasp of his belt.
Jin Lian approached, placed the basket on the bar. "I want a glass of spring water… chilled." The agreed phrase.
The one-armed man lifted his lone eye. He stared at her for a long moment, then glanced at the bronze medallion she flashed beneath the basket's edge. A flicker of recognition.
"We're out of chilled water," he rasped. "But I've got something stronger. In the back."
He led her through a rear door into a small, dark storeroom that reeked of dusty wine and old wood. He shut the door.
"What does the Doll want?" he asked bluntly, his one eye sharp.
Jin Lian dropped the disguise. She stood tall, gray eyes meeting his. "Something from Liang Jiuyong's temporary estate. His personal ring." It was the mission Mo Tianyin had set—not the most valuable, but the one he always wore, the symbol of his authority.
The barkeep, whom she knew only as Duke, gave a low whistle. "The ring? Nearly impossible. But... there's a weakness." He leaned closer. "Liang Jiuyong has a habit. Every night before midnight, he removes his ring and places it in a small box on his desk while reading reports. The window behind his desk… opens to a private garden. Fewer guards. And there's… a flower maid."
"Flower maid?"
"Her name is Xiao Lin. A Muddie, of course." Duke gave a toothless grin. "She's… a Shadow Spider like me. She'll open the window at the exact time. You'll take the ring. But you must be faster than shadow. Quieter than death. Because if you fail… she'll die before you."
He handed her a crude map, scribbled on a dirty cloth: the layout of Liang's estate, the office, and an escape route through the back gardens to a hidden drainage tunnel.
"When?" asked Jin Lian, clutching the cloth like a treasure.
"Tonight," said Duke. "At the third owl's cry. Time is short. The Lord of the Sky… may already smell the spider."
• • •
The night was moonless, cloaked in thick shadow. Liang Jiuyong's temporary estate—a modest palace fortified like a fortress—stood like a black mountain of menace. Guards bearing the red-flower crest stood like statues at every gate, their eyes combing the dark. Jin Lian, dressed in tight black clothes (stolen from a servant's washline), clung to the cold outer wall like an insect. In each hand, a blade—one for killing, one for silence.
First owl call… then the second… then the third.
Across the courtyard, a slender shadow appeared—Xiao Lin. She moved quickly and gracefully to the office window. She nudged the wooden frame up… and vanished into the darkness. The window was cracked open.
Now was the moment. Jin Lian slipped through like smoke. Inside the office, the scent of sandalwood and precious paper. A dim lantern burned on the massive desk. And there, beside an open scroll, sat the small ebony box.
She opened it quickly. Inside, on a velvet-blue cushion, lay the ring. Simple gold, heavy, bearing the emblem: a golden flower within a red circle. The signature of the Lord of the Sky.
She grabbed it. Cold. A symbol of absolute tyranny.
Footsteps.
Heavy.
Approaching the hallway leading to the office. Liang Jiuyong himself! Returning early!
No time to escape through the window. Her eyes darted. A large bookshelf beside the desk. She slid behind it just before the door opened.
Liang Jiuyong entered. Walked slowly to his desk. Sat. Sighed. Then… paused. His dark eyes locked on the open, empty box.
Silence. Like a tomb. Jin Lian, hidden behind the shelf, heard her heart like war drums. Her blade in hand. Ready to fight, to die.
But Liang Jiuyong didn't scream. Didn't call the guards. He simply… laughed. A quiet, bone-deep laugh that rang in the silence—tinged with bitter admiration and icy wrath.
"Well done, Muddy Blood Doll," he whispered, his voice a serpent in Jin Lian's ear. "Well stolen. But remember…" He stood, walked slowly to the bookshelf—stopping just one step away. The scent of sandalwood and unyielding power nearly choked her. "Stealing is easy… compared to what comes next. Because now… the real game begins. And I... never lose."
Then he walked away and left the office… as if nothing had happened.
Jin Lian remained hidden, shaking, the cold ring burning in her grasp like coal. She had stolen from the Lord of the Sky. But the taste of victory was laced with the aftertaste of his threat.
He knew.
And he didn't stop her.
Why?
She slipped out through the window, vanished into the night. The ring was in her pocket. The message would be sent. But Liang Jiuyong's words echoed in her mind:
"Now… the real game begins."
And she... was merely one piece on a chessboard far bloodier than any hunting ground.