Pinky didn’t actually care about the pouch. All the kitsune wanted to know was what room the General was staying in and to make sure it was unoccupied. She thanked the bald man and exited out the front. A few minutes later she had ducked in a back entrance and was on her way upstairs to the room. There was a loud party taking place down the hall, but she didn’t see any guests or staff.

The kitsune bypassed the latch on the door with a thin-bladed knife and ducked inside. The room was neatly arranged, with a bed, nightstand, bath, and a rack for the General’s gear. She didn’t bother retrieving the pouch. Inside were some hard candies she had purchased at the market, something that would probably be mistaken for a gift from the inn. The decision not to poison the candy had been a tough one. But Pinky couldn’t be sure the cultivator would eat the sweets himself, instead of passing them along.

She needed something personal, something only he would use. Her eyes went to a pouch that lightly smelled of essence over on the storage rack. The sweet herbal notes coming from the bag told the kitsune that it was some kind of tea. Pinky picked it up and tried to decide if it was a good candidate. On the one hand, it was definitely a personal item he would consume. On the other hand, tea was often shared and the hot water might lower the potency of her poisons.

An empty waterskin caught Pinky’s eye. She put down the herbal tea and inspected the vessel. This will do nicely, the kitsune thought.

Pinky opened the waterskin and used her new ability to coat the inside with poison. It dripped from her fingernails like clear drops of morning dew. The kitsune didn’t know how well the General would be able to resist the toxin, but she had a feeling that he wouldn’t enjoy the experience. The only problem was that it might take a while for him to get around to using the waterskin. But that was a potential benefit as well. If he died somewhere on the road, it would be harder to trace back to them.

She listened at the door for any signs of activity then exited the room. The party going on down the hall was getting even louder. Pinky could hear the sounds of furniture bumping against the thin walls and shouting. The kitsune almost walked right by the room in question, when a pleading voice caught her attention.

“Please, just let me go!” begged a woman from somewhere inside. “I have to get back to work!”

Pinky could guess what was going on from the sounds of drunken laughter, and it wasn’t anything good. The kitsune straightened her back and knocked on the door. A few seconds later a very intoxicated caravan guard answered the door. His eyes seemed to have trouble focussing on her. Pinky could see a woman inside with her uniform half torn open.

“What do you want?” the man demanded.

The kitsune responded by jabbing two poison dipped nails into his throat. The guard fell backwards into the room, convulsing as the poison fried his nervous system. Pinky covered her mouth, letting out a mock giggle as the man pissed himself and went still. “Oops!” she said innocently before pointing at the serving woman, “Why don’t you go get the boss while I clean up in here. But do me a favor, wait ten minutes before you come back for the bodies.”

The woman didn’t need to be told twice. She ran out of the room like her hair was on fire. Pinky pointed a long sharp talon at the remaining guards, her form becoming more bestial as she walked towards them. “So, you like hurting young women?” she asked through elongated teeth.

A man wearing blue and gold silks got up from the cushion where he had been sitting to watch the show. Pinky figured that he was probably the merchant who paid the guards’ salaries. “Leave us, foul creature. Your point has been made,” he said.

There was a hint of panic in his voice, though he tried to hide it. None of them were cultivators and this was obviously some kind of spirit beast. The other guards looked from Pinky to the dead man on the ground. It was obvious that they had no desire to mess with whatever could do that to a person so easily.

Pinky cocked her head to the side and activated her Essence Drain ability, pairing it with Black Widow’s Kiss. A thin white mist began to spread through the room. Within seconds the guards and their boss were twitching on the ground. “You know,” the kitsune said softly as she knelt down next to the merchant, “It has been a long time since I got to kill anyone. I forgot how much I missed it.”

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The kitsune draped her hand over the man’s face, pulling the essence and vitality out of his body. Leaving corpses to be discovered was sloppy, but she felt the need to send a message. Pinky kept draining the merchant until nothing remained besides a dried out husk. “There,” she said, “Now I think I’ve made my point.”

***

General Eric Badi walked through the city with no particular goal in mind besides grabbing an evening snack and gathering his thoughts. Hero’s Step was low enough on the mountain that common folk could temporarily resist the fog. That meant there was a pretty decent amount of variety when it came to food. Embarrassment over what happened with the chocolates had prevented him from returning to the restaurant for brunch. But Eric’s stomach was waging a war against his ego, and winning.

The General hadn’t yet given up on pleasures of the flesh, and had no intention of doing so, despite the naggings of his elders. He liked food, probably more than he liked grinding levels. Cultivation had been easy for him, and his position within the sect had given him access to essence rich resources. That meant his rise within the sect had been relatively quick. But access to creature comforts had been more of a driving factor for Eric than any desire to advance his cultivation. Besides, the lowland sects were dying anyway.

His mission to bring the Red Rogue to justice was proof of this. Things were dire indeed when some rogue cultivator could wipe the floor with so many junior disciples. Numbers alone should have made taking him down easy. But they had been unable to find and eliminate the target. And now Eric had been called on to do it for them.

The General would have declined, but he had a personal stake in all this. Lily had gone out to destroy the Red Rogue, and disappeared. He knew that she was a smart one, not some mindless drone who believed their sect’s rhetoric about growth at any cost. Eric wasn’t sure if she had abandoned the sect rather than face disgrace for the death of Lord Grasa’s son, or fallen to the Red Rogue’s blade. Either way, the General knew what he needed to do if he wanted to find answers. He needed to find his fellow disciple, or the man who killed her.

The Red Rogue made a habit of killing cultivators. Whether that was out of self-defense, or some darker motivation, remained to be seen. But hunting men was not dissimilar from tracking spirit beasts. A snowcat would bed down in a secure place not far from where their chosen prey congregated. The predator would reduce the distance they needed to travel for food in order to conserve energy and avoid detection. He knew men to behave the same.

Eric’s feet brought him to a noodle shop. Normally such places would be brimming with fights and other activity, instead the atmosphere was much more sedate. He jumped up onto a rooftop, and waited to see if anything interesting happened. The General could be patient, when the situation called for it. Besides, it was a wonderfully crisp night and he was in no particular rush. Sitting and thinking was probably as good a course of action as any.

There was at least one other sect operating in the city and Eric was curious to see if the Red Rogue would go after them. The Crashing Wave Otter sect weren’t exactly allies, but there was a history of collaboration between their two factions. He would come to their aid if the Red Rogue attacked.

The General sat on the rooftop, waiting for something interesting to happen. He didn’t see any other cultivators entering the noodle house. They were usually pretty easy to spot from their weapons and the emblems embroidered onto the backs of their robes. Some even wore masks, but not all. The younger generation had trouble manifesting them, so weak were their abilities.

About an hour later, a man wearing black robes and a mask walked along the street below. Eric frowned, surprised to see a fellow disciple within the city walls. Could this be one of the missing cultivators? he wondered.

The General turned his senses on the man in black, and immediately started sweating. They radiated essence like an elder preparing for combat. Eric watched the man pass, and breathed a sigh of relief once they were gone. He knew with absolute certainty that they were not from the Rock Mountain Mollusk sect, despite their costume.

Eric sat and contemplated what he had observed. There were stories of powerful hidden sects higher up the mountain. But he had no idea why one of them might disguise themselves in the colors of his sect. Then, a realization hit him. His people were going missing, and those robes the man wore had to come from somewhere.

The General swore under his breath as he jumped down onto the street. I have to warn the elders, Eric thought, It’s not just the Red Rogue that’s hunting us.

There were any number of reasons a group of cultivators might decide to eliminate another, and he knew his sect were far from innocent. Revenge for their actions during the consolidation had been a long time coming. But knowing it was actually happening made a chill run down his spine. Old monsters lurked in these mountains, and he had no desire to become their next victim.

The sound of hooves behind Eric made him stop and turn around. A massive draft horse towered above him, its hot breath steamed in the cool night air. Doors and windows slammed shut as others caught sight of the beast.

Daisy smiled like a meat grinder. “Hello, General,” she said softly, “I was hoping I would run into you.”