Jack could tell the head foreman was unimpressed with him. Clearly something of his ‘phoniness’ as a craftsman was showing through as he explained the blueprints in front of them. Fortunately, the grizzled old snake-kin was too intimidated by the sect representative watching over them and Jack’s own status as a ‘cultivator’ to say anything.
Which was fine by Jack.
He just wanted to get this done and get out of here.
The massive steelworks reminded him far too much of a sweatshop he’d once worked in as a kid. It was the smell mostly. That curious combination of melting steel and the acrid stink of too many bodies being squeezed into too tight a place.
He could handle one or the other just fine. It was the two together that was setting him on edge.
“An impressive design, great one,” The older man finally said, the mottled brown scales around the snake-kin’s eyes creasing as he looked over both the blueprints and the prototype sat in front of him.
He didn’t need to shout over the muffled din of hammers pounding metal into shape or steel being quenched in the background. As soon as Jack’s party had walked inside, the sect cultivator had stepped over to the wall and pressed her hand into an alcove there, which immediately did something that muffled all sound that came from outside the square they were standing on.
Jack had noted the little show of ‘magic’ at the time as something he wanted to get his hands on for his own projects. And he had also noted how both Ren and the sect cultivator had seemed infinitely more relieved than he, the foreman or his militia guards did when the muffling came into effect.
Did the enhanced senses of cultivators make them more vulnerable to loud or disorientating sounds? What about sudden flashes?
He didn’t know, but it was something he fully intended to find out.
“Yet this lowly one can’t help but note that the design is markedly different from the ones held by the great one’s own people,” the foreman continued, eyes flitting over to where Jack’s two guards stood.
Given that the Golden Fang representative next to him said nothing in response to her subordinate’s near insubordinate words, the man clearly had tacit permission from the sect to ask what he needed to. Likely to ensure they weren’t getting ripped off.
It was yet another reminder that the locals weren’t dumb. Sure, they seemed to disdain mortals, but if they trained one to do something, they clearly had no issue with trusting them to do it. In many ways it reminded him of Ren and her tool mentality.
“Tao, rifle.” It was always a small source of amusement for him when his people stiffened in surprise when he called them by name. As if he wouldn’t have overheard his guard detail talking amongst themselves on the ride over to the Golden Fang’s trade district.
Obligingly, the rat-kin handed him his rifle and Jack wasted no time in popping out the magazine and extracting a round. He was also pleased to note that the man hadn’t been keeping a round in the chamber. He hadn’t exactly been expecting him to, what with his personal guard being drawn from the militia’s best, but it never hurt to check.
“See this?” Jack said as he flicked the round toward the foreman, who promptly caught it. “You’re incapable of producing these in the quantities needed to fight a war. Not without years to stockpile them first.”
The foreman scowled a bit at Jack’s words, but didn’t directly argue as he focused on examining the copper coated round in his hand. It didn’t take him long at all to realize the bullet could be pulled from the casing and soon enough he was inspecting the powder.
Satisfied, he turned back to Jack. “Agreed.”
Jack’s opinion of the man went up a few notches at that. Clearly he was a little offended but the insinuation that his people couldn’t produce the rounds, but he was pragmatic enough to realize that the variant he was being provided had a much simpler production process.
And that before Jack even got into the complexities that were the rifles themselves. No, the musket he was providing was that wonderful combination of both weaker than the weapon’s held by his own people - and soon the Magistrate’s – while also being genuinely the best option for them.
The alchemist’s guild had already assured him that they could produce loose powder in large quantities. Apparently they used something similar in fireworks displays.
“I am satisfied, mistress.” The man turned and bowed towards the sect representative, who’s slightly bored expression shifted to one of relief.
“Excellent.” The young woman smiled. “This Song Xuegeng would be happy to see you out. I think we are all eager to get away from this… uncouth place.”
Jack nodded absently as the foppishly dressed cultivator started guiding them out, leaving the foreman to sigh in relief behind them. Clearly, while the man had been determined to do his job, he hadn’t been too happy about being stuck in a meeting with no less than three cultivators.
Jack also resisted the urge to point out that as a craftsmen he spent most of his time in ‘uncouth places’ remarkably similar to this.
It had been clear from the outset that Song wasn’t the brightest bulb in the bunch when she’d greeted them at the gates of the district, before near immediately attempting to engage him in conversation about the local gossip. It had taken her a few minutes of unbroken speech to realize that as a foreigner to the city, he’d be utterly ignorant of the local ‘scene’.
That had not stopped her from accidentally falling into the same routine twice more before they’d reached the foreman’s workshop.
A feat she seemed to be repeating now, if his ears weren’t deceiving him.
“-practicing the Spirit Leopard Technique despite her mother’s reputation as a renowned Fire Liger practitioner. And while I would never stoop so low as to cast aspersions where the internal harmony of another sect was concerned, I would say that it certainly suggests that all might not be well within the-”
Yes, while it was clear the local’s weren’t all idiots, they certainly had their fair share of them. It was almost enough for Jack to wonder if Song had been sent to chaperone them as some form of calculated insult. A means of not showing face. Of course, that suspicion had only lasted about as long as it had taken for him to remember that Xuegeng was the family name of the leader of the Golden Fang sect, at which point everything else had fallen into place.
“Truly fascinating,” Ren said to the young woman as they finally reached their waiting carriage, no less than twelve members of the militia protectively stood around it. “Your keen insights into the goings on of Ten Huo are a credit to your sect.”
The young woman smiled back at his companion, but Jack wasn’t ignorant of the way her eyes occasionally flitted to him.
“Well, this young mistress tries to stay abreast of current events.” Song bowed. “And if the Hidden Master would care to share in any more of her insights, she would be happy to host him at the Jade Swan Pavilion for an evening.”
Jack resisted the urge to flinch at the very idea. If given the choice, he’d sooner spend the evening fucking himself with a twelve-inch drill rather than listen to any more ‘insights’.
Fortunately, Ren was there to cover for him.
“Unfortunately, the Hidden Master’s schedule is quite full for the foreseeable future. He laments that he cannot join you for what would no doubt be an enjoyable evening.”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Relieved at the out being provided, Jack gave an affirmative grunt.
To her credit, Song accepted the excuse, but Jack couldn’t help but notice the slightly venomous look she sent Ren’s way. One that had nothing to do with the woman’s snake-kin ancestry. Rather it seemed that the young sect scion had come to the conclusion that rather than Jack being plain disinterested in her, Ren was warding her off.
He shook his head as he clambered into the wagon. Ren followed a moment after and they were off.
“Christ, am I glad that’s over,” he muttered.
Ren just nodded quietly. Given that she was a merchant by trade and nature, he doubted she was nearly as drained by the entire experience as he was. Hell, she might well have enjoyed it.
“How’s the canning going?” he asked.
Part of him might have expected Ren to be a little more affectionate given the recent evolution of their relationship. And she was. In private. It wasn’t much though. Her posture was held a little less severely. She shared a few more lingering glances and touches. In short, she was still Ren, just a little softer – and perhaps a little more… subservient.
In public though, she was still the same ‘Lady Delan Ren’ he’d become accustomed to. Strict. Efficient. Hell, she was almost more domineering now, perhaps granted more confidence in her position by being brought into his… embrace.
Personally, he was glad. The latter was the one he needed in his corner while dealing with these people. The former was for fun and relaxation.
“It proceeds efficiently.” She looked down at her tablet. “Your instructions were simple enough that even the vagabonds you hired seem up to the task.”
Ren made no attempt to hide her disdain for his new hires. Which was to be expected, given that she wanted to use her own people for the automated cannery he’d set up at the compound. Unfortunately for her, Jack had instead decided to hire on some of the more desperate looking refugees that were hanging around the city.
They needed the jobs.
To that end, most of his new hires were recent widows with kids. Or orphaned kids themselves. People who would otherwise be vulnerable to the city’s rapidly growing criminal element.
Just too many hungry and desperate people crammed into too tight a place, he thought.
Something none of the people he’d hired on seemed ignorant of. All of them had been almost pathetically grateful for the opportunity for steady work, even as they’d been quietly bewildered by the offer that had been extended by the militia men and women acting as his representatives.
A bewilderment that had only grown when they’d seen what working for him would entail. According to a giggling Lin, one had actually fainted when she’d shown them the massive machine into which they’d be feeding food.
Apparently the poor kid had thought it was some great beast that they were supposed to feed, with the cans being it’s… leavings.
Jack shook his head, chuckling internally. Of course, that moment of brief levity faded at Ren’s next words.
“We have only had to remove two reprobates from the workforce. One for spying on behalf of, well, we shall find that out in time. The other for stealing what she was supposed to be supplying to the machine.”
He ignored the spying bit – and the insinuation that Ren was torturing someone. He’d sort of being expecting spies. It had been part of why he’d chosen his new helpers at ‘random’. Of course, that wouldn’t stop some idiots from taking bribes after being hired, as the poor soul in Ren’s clutches proved, but that just meant he’d be dealing with opportunistic amateurs rather than trained deep cover agents.
No, the second part was what surprised him.
“What? Why?” He turned to her “Aren’t we feeding them?”
That was another point of contention between him and Ren. In addition to the wages he was providing his new workers, he was also providing bed and board. It cost him basically nothing and provided him a loyal on-site workforce.
Ren seemed to think it was a charity and an unneeded expense.
The woman in question inspected her nails. “I couldn’t even begin to guess at her motives. Once a vagabond, always a vagabond. If you want a loyal work force, you need to train them from a young age.”
Jack nodded as he came to a realization. While Ren was way off the mark, she was in some ways closer than she realized. The woman had likely been stealing out of habit. A survival mechanism that she likely hadn’t been able to shake despite their being no need for it.
…Or she just hadn’t trusted Jack and had been quietly stockpiling a back-up plan for some imagined inevitable betrayal.
Jack shook his head. He didn’t know, and to a certain point, didn’t care.
“Meh, a small loss,” he said as he overcame his surprise.
“Quite.” Ren nodded. “Here are my notes on the Bronze Feather. They’re our next stop.”
Jack sighed, even as he took the tablet from her.
I just have to explain the exact same thing I just did to eight more sects, he thought. Where I’ll be hit on by eight more thirsty cultivators.
The only question was whether it would be the sect leader themselves, one of the elders, or another one of either of the first two’s relatives.
He drummed his finger on the armrest as he gazed out at the streets outside – and the many crowds of refugees and local residents on them.
Ideally he’d have left the task to someone else, but literally none of his people had any real understanding of the guns he was selling. At least, beyond the ability to provide basic maintenance. And those that knew that much were mortals.
And even he knew what would happen if he sent a mortal along for a job like this.
No, he was learning about how to operate around here whether he wanted to or not.
----------------------
“This is our last meeting for the day.”
Jack sighed in relief at Ren’s words as they clambered out of the carriage. The sects were done. Some of them had made a big show of things as he’d toured their facilities, necessitating long hours spent in frankly tedious conversation.
By contrast, this meeting was far more clandestine.
I suppose it says something about me that I feel more at home here than I did with all them noble ladies fawning all over me, Jack thought as they approached a sleezy looking establishment.
Not that the dockside inn was alone in that fact. The whole area had seen better days, with a fresh influx of refugees doing little to improve the décor.
“You set up this meeting fast,” he noted.
It had only been a few days since Ren had suggested hiring on a new trainer for his planned cultivator corp.
“A fortunate coincidence,” Ren admitted. “Xie Bai has made a number of enemies amongst her sect. Her acceptance of my offer of new employment was almost unseemly in its haste.”
“Enemies that will become my enemies when she jumps ship,” Jack noted absently.
“Enemies that are already yours by virtue of your gender.”
Jack sighed. “Lovely.”
He opened the door to the inn and as they stepped inside, he heard Ren gasp before his eyes adjusted to the gloom.
If he’d been expecting a run down bar filled with rough looking sorts and maybe a single weathered barkeep, he was disappointed.
The inn had been torn up and the woman they were there to meet was very, very dead.
Unless she’s got some magical technique to keep her from dying after being run through with a sword, he thought as he took in the slumped form of Xie Bai.
How did he know she’d been killed with a sword?
Well, that was obvious.
The woman that had done it was still there. And her sword was still very bloody.
The young woman had a rather intense smile as she regarded him, the tiger stripes on her neck rippling in an interesting manner as she cocked her head in his direction. A number of garishly dressed cultivators were lounging about the place, the tiger-like features dotted across their bodies giving little doubt to their origins.
The Silver Paw.
It was a bit of a shocking sight, he could freely admit, but he also felt the need to note that the group of youths needed to work on their ‘menacing lounge’.
He knew that because it was a technique his old gang used to use. One where one attempted to appear menacing through sheer nonchalance – even as you were privately wired in preparation for a fight.
The group before him – with the slightly alarming exception of the leader – made the latter part of the technique all too obvious. Their shoulders were too tense. Some had hands too close to their weapons. Most’s eyes were flitting about in search of any others that might be with him.
Not exactly the behaviour of someone that was actually relaxing. Which rather undercut the whole scene.
Which ironically only put him more on edge. He was the sort of guy who preferred dealing with an opponent that was genuinely overconfident rather than feigning it for dramatic effect. It made it easier to get in the first sucker punch.
Which was always the most important punch.
“Oh so this is who our dear traitor was waiting for.” The leader’s voice was almost disarmingly soft. “How fortuitous. I’m almost tempted to thank her for providing us this opportunity. I would have thought getting my hands on you would be much harder, but you’ve practically walked into my palm.”
It was also a little worrying, that the leader was the only one whose weapon looked like it had been used. From Ren’s reports, Xie had not been weak. The woman had been firmly in the upper end of average.
Though the woman in front of him also lost intimidation points for leaving blood on her blade for who knew how long. Blood could be worse than saltwater for rust, and he knew from experience that it became a pain to clean off once it got crusty.
No, it wasn’t a move that screamed callous killer so much as newbie try hard.
…Or a genuinely unhinged psychopath.
Still, despite all that, he felt rather calm as he gazed at the leader. “Who are you to think you can speak to me this way?”
It never hurt to remind people he was a hidden master. That kind of thing carried weight.
The girl smiled. “My name is Pan Su, and you, my dearest deluded male, are now the property of the Silver Paw Sect.”
Thinking quickly, Jack’s expression turned stormy, and he slammed his foot down into the planks beneath him, shattering them. The move made some of the jumpier members of the gang twitch, swords coming loose from their sheathes. In response, Ren’s blade came out and Jack could hear the absent clicking of rounds chambering from the guards behind him, as well as the stomping feet of more running over.
Neither he nor the leader moved though as they continued staring each other down.
What came next, came entirely of its own volition, and served as a firm reminder that he’d spent far too much time around cultivators today.
“You dare!?” he roared.