On the high northern slope of Cloud Ruins Bazaar, a building’s window lattice was carved with three overlapping wheat ears—
The simple, understated emblem of the Cloud Ruins Merchant Association, recognized by all in these parts.
As the owner of the association, Bai Li had risen long before dawn.
She lit no candle;
A faint purple light seeped from her fingertips, the innate gift of a pure-blooded succubus.
The mirror reflected a dignified face.
A dark green velvet qipao wrapped her full figure, its cut meticulously tailored, showcasing her curves without a hint of frivolity.
A copper button, slightly mismatched with the overall style, adorned her collar, gleaming coldly against her chest, rising and falling gently with her breath.
The long tip of her tail peeked out from beneath her skirt, lightly coiling around her ankle.
Morning.
The Cloud Ruins Merchant Association’s Hall of Executors.
Six executors awaited in the hall: a retired human officer, a serpentine clan accountant, a Stoneborn craftsman representative, a liaison to the Human Realm’s smugglers, an enslaved magus advisor, and a one-eyed intelligence chief.
They were the backbone of the association, the true core that kept this hollow running.
Bai Li pushed open the door and walked in slowly, taking her seat at the head of the table.
Her tail tip slipped softly from under her skirt and rested quietly beside the chair leg.
Her hands folded on the table, her voice low, but her tone carried an innate magnetism.
“Today, there are three matters to discuss.”
“First: the epidemic in the southern camp remains unresolved. More than sixty households have reported fevers. The association’s warehouse still has grain reserves. Starting today, distribute porridge vouchers by household, with priority for the sick. Arrange the quarantine measures as discussed; dispose of the dead according to the Covenant—bury them promptly, no open-air exposure.”
“Second: the apprentice stalls in the East Market. Demand has dropped recently, and they’re not getting work. Waive their site rental fees for this month.”
The serpentine accountant paused, his pen hovering.
He looked up at Bai Li.
Waiving rental fees meant a significant loss of income.
He seemed about to speak, then hesitated.
“Though the fees are waived, we’ll require labor in exchange. Let them handle daily tasks around the bazaar—street sweeping, firewood chopping for the porridge shack—during their free time this month. Anyone who slacks off will have their stall reclaimed directly.”
Bai Li glanced at the others and continued, “Take the epidemic control measures I just mentioned; we’ll definitely need more hands for supervision. If you’re short-staffed, assign these people directly to help. This matter is not to be taken lightly. Everyone must take it seriously. Report any emergencies to me promptly.”
“Third: an intelligence issue. It’s about the Vein Quartz I mentioned last time…”
The meeting concluded, and the executors dispersed.
Bai Li left the hall and slowly descended the stone steps on the northern slope, beginning her daily routine inspection.
Listening to reports alone was never enough for the myriad affairs of Cloud Ruins Bazaar.
Only by observing personally could she gain a thorough understanding.
She first went to the porridge shack.
From a distance, she saw a long line at the entrance.
The elderly Stoneborn man stirring the pot noticed her approaching and was about to set down his ladle to bow, but she raised her hand to signal that wasn’t necessary.
She stood by the shack’s pillar, picked up the ledger, and flipped through it, checking the number of people who had received porridge today and the amount of grain consumed, verifying the balance.
The count was five more than yesterday, but the grain consumption was still within estimates.
She closed the ledger, handed it back to the manager, gave a few quiet instructions, and turned to leave.
Near noon, she walked to a narrow alley on the edge of the West Market.
At the end of the alley stood a blacksmith’s shop, its door plank crooked, the forge fire nearly extinguished.
A stocky figure hunched over, hammering fiercely at a stubborn piece of iron.
The shop’s owner was named Cassius, once a renowned blacksmith of the Seventh Ring, who had drifted here after the war.
Cassius still had skill, but he was poor at socializing.
His goods lacked proper promotion, and business had withered away, leaving him deep in debt to material suppliers.
Today was his deadline.
Bai Li stood at the entrance until he put down his hammer, then said softly, “Mr. Cassius.”
Cassius spun around.
His beard was caked with coal dust, his eyes bloodshot.
“Madam, you shouldn’t be in a place like this…”
Bai Li didn’t exchange pleasantries.
She picked up a forged steel dagger from the wall, examined it, and stated her purpose:
“I heard from my people that Mr. Cassius is currently burdened with debt.”
But if you’re willing, you can come work as a full-time blacksmith at the association’s workshop starting immediately.
I’ll handle your creditors.
From then on, Mr. Cassius need only focus on forging.
The Cloud Ruins Merchant Association will find suitable sales channels for your products.
The term is one year; the output will pay off the debt.
“After the debt is cleared, you may stay or leave as you wish.”
Cassius stood frozen.
After a long pause, he managed a few words:
“Of course… I’m willing. But aren’t you afraid I’ve grown rusty?”
“I trust only my own eyes. A skilled craftsman deserves respect.”
She placed the dagger back in its spot.
“This is a sure win for me. The association’s workshop welcomes Mr. Cassius to come take a look anytime.”
At the alley mouth, an outer-ring caravan had stopped.
The leader, mounted on horseback, had taken it all in.
He snorted under his breath, unhurriedly saying to his deputy beside him, “Just cheap tricks to win people over. With a market this big and all the money they’ve made, this is all the goodwill they toss out…”
His voice was pitched just high enough to reach Bai Li’s ears.
Bai Li heard it but made no comment.
Her expression didn’t change.
Her time was precious, not worth wasting on someone like that.
She had heard similar taunts from outer-ring leaders too many times to even bother frowning.
But a local vendor at the alley mouth, who had been haggling with the caravan leader, heard the remark and closed the shipment list in his hand.
The vendor looked up at the outlander leader, his tone noticeably cooler.
“Sorry, it looks like the raw materials for this deal are all sold out.”
The leader was stunned.
“What are you talking about? Weren’t we just negotiating?”
“That was then. This is now. Not the same thing.”
“Are you crazy…”
The leader stared at him in disbelief.
“You’re not selling? Just because I made a casual remark?”
The vendor didn’t reply.
He picked up the samples he had placed on the negotiating table and walked away without a second glance.
The leader gazed in the direction Bai Li had gone, muttering to himself, “Businessmen talk about profit, not sentiment. What’s wrong with these people? They must all have a screw loose…”
The deputy leaned in, lowering his voice.
“Boss, should we still chase that deal?”
“Forget it!”
The leader yanked the reins irritably, and the horse snorted.
“On to the next ring. This place is cursed. No business to be done here.”
Night fell.
Bai Li returned to her residence on the northern slope.
The servant had prepared supper according to the usual routine: a bowl of stewed wild greens and a few pieces of rye bread—
Bai Li’s standard dinner.
The stew had little oil, the leaves cooked to a dark, soft mush, their edges soggy, carrying a faint bitterness on the tongue.
The rye bread, baked that morning, was now cold and hard around the edges, crumbling when she broke it, fragments scattering.
The candle flame barely illuminated the small patch of table before her.
The hall was silent.
Bai Li sat alone in the light, the sound of her own chewing and teeth grating clearly audible in the empty room.
Even so, compared to other times of day, this was a rare moment of relaxation for her.
After the meal, Bai Li neatly stacked her bowl and chopsticks and walked alone into the back courtyard.
The night had no stars, even the moon hidden behind clouds.
The only light in the yard came from the faint purple glow at her fingertips.
From her sleeve, she drew out several marked parchment scrolls.
A wisp of purple flame rose silently, the edges of the paper curling, blackening, then drifting down around her feet, dissolving into specks of ash.
She turned and stepped into the shadows behind the rear gate of the residence, as always.