Wei Shen spent the few hours before dawn in his quiet room at the "Peaceful Deer Inn," not sleeping, but putting the finishing touches on his new weapon. This weapon wasn't made of bone or steel, but of ink, paper, and meticulously crafted lies.
The anonymous letter he had just written was a masterpiece in the art of manipulation. It wasn't just empty accusations; it was a delicate weave of secret truths he'd obtained from the black scroll bought in the Shadow Market and venomous insinuations, specifically designed to press on the deepest wounds of the "Li Family" and ignite the old flame of their hatred for the "Wang Family."
"Words... they can be deadlier weapons than any sword," Wei Shen thought, carefully folding the letter and placing it in a plain envelope with no markings. "And this letter isn't just information; it's poison placed in the ear of an old foe, a poison that will make him act foolishly and recklessly, draining his wealth in a futile battle."
He looked at the "Green Jade Leaf Sword" resting on the table. He examined it with biting disdain. "A primitive design, lacking the simplest principles of dynamic balance. If sarcasm were a weapon, this sword would be enough to make my opponent laugh himself to death instead of killing him." Still, he knew it was better than nothing, a temporary weapon until it was time to forge his own masterpiece.
As the darkest hours of the night fell, Wei Shen donned his black cloak, pulled up his hood, and slipped out of the inn like a ghost dissolving into the darkness.
He moved through the sleeping streets of Black Rock City with a speed the naked eye couldn't follow. Thanks to his peak Ninth Level Qi Condensation power, the night patrols were just slow-moving dots on his mental map, which he deftly avoided with agility and stealth. He leapt silently between rooftops, like a shadow cat, his cold eyes scanning the city from above, searching for his target.
His target was the main "Li Family" compound, located in the eastern part of the city. It wasn't as grand or imposing as the "Wang Family" compound, but rather a large complex of traditional-style buildings, surrounded by high walls and some simple defensive formations.
Wei Shen spent nearly an hour observing the compound from the roof of an adjacent building. He studied the guards' movements, the weaknesses of the defensive formations, and the best route for infiltration. There was no room for error; any alarm could ruin his entire plan.
He found his chance. Two guards were yawning boredly near one of the back walls, and the energy formation in that area was flickering faintly, indicating poor maintenance.
With a single silent leap, Wei Shen landed in the shadow inside the compound walls. No one felt him.
Now came the harder part: delivering the message to the right person, the Li Family patriarch, Li Jian, without leaving any trace.
He moved through the compound's internal corridors and gardens like a phantom, using every shadow, every bush, as cover. His keen senses picked up the sound of sleeping guards' breaths in the watchtowers, and the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.
He finally reached the main building, where he knew the patriarch's residence and study were located. The building was quiet, but Wei Shen could feel a strong, stable Qi aura emanating from one of the rooms in the upper floor—certainly the patriarch's room.
He climbed the outer wall of the building with the agility of a spider and reached the room's window. It was closed, but not tightly sealed. With a light, precise touch of "Blood Qi," he managed to slide the wooden latch from the inside without making a sound.
He opened the window very carefully, inch by inch, and poked his head inside.
The room was dark, lit only by moonlight filtering through the window. Patriarch Li Jian was asleep in his bed, his breathing deep and regular. On the table nearby, there was a stack of scrolls and papers.
With incredible quietness, Wei Shen slipped into the room. The wooden floor made no creak under his light feet. He approached the table and placed the anonymous letter on top of one of the open scrolls, in a spot that ensured the patriarch would see it immediately upon waking.
Then, with the same calm and speed, he retreated, exited through the window, closed it behind him, and vanished into the night's darkness, as if he had never been there at all.
---
Around dawn the next day, Patriarch Li Jian awoke. He was a man in his sixties, his face bearing the marks of time and the bitterness of old defeats, especially those at the hands of his eternal rival, Wang Li.
As he sat at his desk to begin his day, he noticed the simple envelope that hadn't been there yesterday. He picked it up carefully, a frown of suspicion on his face.
He opened it and began to read. At first, his features showed doubt and disbelief. Then, they changed.
His eyes widened in shock as he read precise details about a secret deal the Wang Family had struck with a distant sect, details no outsider could possibly know.
He continued reading, his face growing paler with each line. The letter moved to the "Azure Flame Scroll," falsely and exaggeratedly explaining how this technique, combined with another secret resource the Wang Family possessed, would enable them to forge cheap yet powerful spiritual weapons that would sweep the market, eliminating all smaller competitors like the Li Family within a few years.
Every word in the letter was designed to press on his old wounds, to stir his fear for his family's future, and to awaken his wounded pride.
When he reached the end of the letter, which was sealed with the phrase "A friend who doesn't wish to see absolute Wang dominance," Li Jian's face had turned into a mask of purplish rage.
"Damn him!" he roared, a muffled sound, crushing the letter in his fist. "Wang Li! That cunning fox! You think you can crush my family completely and erase my ancestors' legacy?! I won't let you get that scroll! I swear by the spirits of my ancestors, I won't let you! I'll spend every bit of the Li Family's wealth, every spirit stone we own, to stop you, even if it means bankrupting us both in this damned auction!"
---
Around the same time, Wei Shen had finished drafting his second letter. This one was addressed to Wang Li, the patriarch of the Wang Family. Its style was completely different. It was short, cryptic, and unsettling.
The silence in the modest inn room wasn't just an absence of noise; it was a vacuum charged with anticipation, a stark black canvas upon which Wei Shen's mind meticulously drew the threads of his coming conspiracy, like an artist completing his final masterpiece.
He had sown the first seed of discord in the "Li Family's" field, and now it was time to poison the well from which the "Wang Family" drank.
He gripped the brush, his fingers, capable of crushing rocks, now moved with the grace of a seasoned calligrapher. The words he inscribed weren't ink, but whispers of venom, each character calculated to stir pride, sow doubt, and feed the paranoia of the Wang patriarch. The message was entirely different from the one he had sent to Li Jian; it wasn't filled with details, but short, vague, and unsettling, like the distant rumble of thunder on a clear night.
"Patriarch Wang," his hand wrote steadily, "The old fox in the East has found a buried treasure in the Weeping Wolf Mountains. His wealth now surpasses your wildest imagination, and his intention is not merely to win the scroll, but to humiliate the 'Wang' name before all sects. It's not a battle over a technique, but over who will rule Black Rock City in the next generation. Just a warning from an eye in the shadows that sees more than it should."
As he placed the final drop of ink, Wei Shen felt that cold satisfaction that accompanies the completion of a complex equation. He had now unleashed two arrows into the darkness, and he knew with absolute certainty, with the certainty of a physicist knowing a projectile's trajectory, that they would strike the hearts of both targets.
And as he folded this second letter, this weapon made of lies, the wooden walls of the inn vanished for a moment, replaced by the cold gleam of smart glass reflecting countless galaxies.
Himself, only the tools had changed.
He didn't deliver the letter himself this time. He went out into the city's darkness and found a shivering street urchin in an alley. He gave the child a silver coin—a fortune for the child—and instructed him to leave the envelope at the entrance of the "Merchants' Guild," which he knew the "Wang Family" controlled, with a whisper that it was "information for Patriarch Wang alone." The merchants' greed and eagerness to please their masters would ensure the message's delivery.
He returned to his room and closed the door. All the chess pieces were in place. Now, there was nothing to do but wait and refine his own power.
"Pour oil on both sides of the fire... then step back and watch it consume everything," Wei Shen thought with satisfaction as he returned to his inn. "Now, the two main opponents will drain each other, and the path will be open for me to get what I want at the lowest possible price."
After sowing the seeds of discord, he didn't just sit and wait. He knew that true power came not only from conspiracies, but from the ability to back those conspiracies with actual might. He headed to the "Hammer and Anvil Guild," not as a client, but as an observer.
The guild was a noisy place, filled with the scent of burning charcoal and molten metal. He saw blacksmiths with bulging arms hammering glowing metals, and heard the clanging of hammers and anvils that felt like the industrial heartbeat of the city.
He watched their primitive methods with disdain, but he recorded in his mind the types of materials they used, their prices, and the cost of renting a private forging workshop. "The space is available, and the basic materials are there," he thought. "All I lack is the true knowledge... the scroll."
He returned to his room and closed the door. His plan was now complete and clear. He had released his arrows into the darkness, and now all he had to do was wait with the patience of a hunter, while his targets prepared their own traps for each other.
In Black Rock City, a storm was silently gathering, and no one knew that its orchestrator was the quiet young man sitting in a modest room, planning his next move in his ruthless game.