Chapter 28 — The Broker’s Last Offer

CHAPTER 28

The Broker’s Last Offer

“Don't put your hand there. The seal's wet,” Wen Ruxiu said.

Shi Feng moved his fingers and laid thirty-five spirit stones beside the paper.

The customs shed still had a roof. That made it busier than most buildings in Yunze Town. People crowded beneath the eaves with bundles, children, and whatever they could pull from their ruined homes.

Wen Ruxiu blew on the red mark and passed the departure paper across her desk.

“Show that at the road posts,” Wen Ruxiu said. “And don’t fold it until the seal dries!”

A man behind Shi Feng blew on his own paper.

“Not with your mouth full!” Wen Ruxiu snapped.

The man stopped chewing. Wen Ruxiu wiped a grain of rice from the desk and stamped the next permit with unnecessary force. She had survived the beast tide. She wasn’t going to lose the rest of her morning to filthy documents.

“I can walk,” Shi Feng replied.

“The road's long,” Wen Ruxiu said.

“I've noticed,” Shi Feng said.

When Wen Ruxiu wrote his name into the ledger, the tip of her brush paused for half a beat. She glanced up at his face, then down at the private watch list pinned beneath her inkstone—the one Gao An had paid five spirit stones to keep updated.

“Wait while I enter the counter-slip,” Wen Ruxiu said smoothly. Turning toward the rear lattice, she lifted a wooden tally peg from the sill—the prearranged signal for the runner waiting in the alley behind the customs shed.

Shi Feng caught the reflection of the runner’s dark blue lapel moving past the oiled paper window. He folded his stamped permit into his coat without comment.

Outside, the customs-shed lane was jammed with handcarts, stacked baggage crates, and townspeople arguing over mule hire. Zheng Bao stood near the water trough holding two salvaged bowls, his eyes darting nervously toward the narrow baggage passage beside the shed wall.

Tang Jiu stepped out from between the stacked crates, flanked by two Wei household men. Wei Song carried a heavy iron-shod staff, and Du Heng kept a hand on his short sword. Both were in Qi Condensation.

“That’s him!” Tang Jiu said quickly, pointing at Shi Feng’s waist before the crowd by the trough could drift closer. “He walked out of Heilu Marsh wearing Ma Liang’s skinning knife after all three hunters vanished, and he came down the western hill path wearing Young Master Wei Kuo’s dagger!”

Zheng Bao nearly dropped his bowls behind the water trough. Two carters tying a load at the mouth of the passage froze, staring at the Wei household badges.

“Step into the baggage lane, cripple,” Wei Song ordered, swinging his staff across the exit. “Our eastern storehouse is rubble and Young Master Wei Kuo is dead. Master Wei Renshan is returning today—you can either walk to the Wei courtyard with your hands tied or be carried there in a sack!”

“And my ten stones?” Tang Jiu demanded, edging behind Du Heng. “Clerk Wen’s runner said you’d pay as soon as he stepped out with the west-road permit!”

“Take it off his corpse once we’re behind the crates,” Du Heng snapped, drawing his short sword as he lunged to herd Shi Feng into the narrow passage between the customs wall and the timber stacks.

At the mouth of the lane, Zheng Bao ducked behind the trough while the two carters scrambled back against their mule cart.

Wei Song brought the iron-shod staff whistling down at Shi Feng’s collarbone to drop him out of sight of the main street.

Shi Feng stepped inside the arc and caught the oak shaft in his left hand.

The blow stopped dead. Wei Song’s eyes bulged as he poured Qi Condensation force into both arms, but the wood didn’t budge a finger’s breadth. Before Wei Song could draw breath to shout, Shi Feng yanked him forward by the staff and drove the heel of his palm into the man’s breastbone.

With a sharp crack, Wei Song slammed backward into the stacked crates, bringing a pile of timber down over his chest.

Du Heng cursed and thrust his short sword at Shi Feng’s ribs. Shi Feng pivoted off his rear heel—using the shortened turn he had practiced—caught Du Heng’s sword wrist against the brick wall, and drove Wei Kuo’s dagger beneath his chin. Du Heng slid down the customs-shed wall without a second cry.

Tang Jiu bolted for the street corner. Shi Feng caught the back of his collar in one stride. In panic, the broker slashed backward with a sleeve knife; Shi Feng angled his splinted right forearm so the blade bit into the hardwood splint strips instead of his flesh, twisted Tang Jiu’s wrist until the fingers opened, and caught the falling knife in his left hand.

“Young Master Shi! It’s a misunderstanding!” Tang Jiu choked out.

“You already spent the ten stones in your head,” Shi Feng said.

Tang Jiu’s other hand darted for a lime packet at his belt. Shi Feng drove the blade through his throat and let him drop beside the timber stack.

At the mouth of the passage, Zheng Bao was pale as kiln clay, and a carter peering over the mule’s rump clapped a hand over his own mouth. Through the side lattice of the customs shed, Wen Ruxiu stared down at the three bodies in the baggage lane, her fingers trembling on the window bar as she realized what her five-stone tip had just cost the Wei household.

Shi Feng wiped the knife, took the two retainers’ purses from their belts, and walked out past the water trough.

“Your bowls are going to fall,” Shi Feng told Zheng Bao in passing.

Zheng Bao clutched them to his chest and couldn’t even nod. Within the quarter hour, half the customs queue was whispering that two Wei retainers and Tang Jiu had tried to jump the Shi boy behind the permit shed and hadn’t stood up again. By then, Shi Feng had already collected his bedding from the kiln yard.