“It couldn’t be him.”
Zhao Ling’er stood in the dim outer chamber, her gaze lingering on Lin Hao’s feigned slumber. The notion of a blind cripple wielding fire magic was absurd—a fantasy born of late-night fatigue. She retreated to her bed, dismissing the anomaly as a trick of overtaxed senses.
Lin Hao waited until her breathing deepened into sleep’s rhythm before exhaling silently. Too close. The Kung Fu Fly’s vigilance had saved him—this time.
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Dawn painted the Zhao Manor’s central hall in gold. Zhao Gaolie, the clan patriarch, drummed thick fingers on an armrest carved with snarling dragons. Beside him, the gray-haired steward Zhao Rong bowed, relaying the previous night’s chaos.
“Third Steward Qin’s tendons were severed… by a fly?” Zhao Gaolie’s voice rumbled like distant thunder.
“So claim the witnesses, my lord.” Zhao Rong’s rheumy eyes narrowed. “Though how an insect could maim a first-tier warrior…”
“Monitor Lin Hao.” The patriarch’s command brooked no argument. “Even vermin bite when cornered.”
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Lin Hao strolled into the kitchen, the Kung Fu Fly scouting ahead. Chefs scrambled like startled hens, piling his tray with delicacies reserved for Zhao elders—roast pheasant glazed in honey, steamed dumplings stuffed with crab roe.
“The blind leech feasts while we scrape crumbs,” muttered a sous-chef.
Lin Hao’s milky eyes swept mockingly toward the voice. The man flinched, clutching his bandaged hand.
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The treasury’s iron-banded doors loomed ahead, flanked by guards whose muscles bulged beneath chainmail. Their leader, a bearded brute, blocked Lin Hao’s path with a sneer.
“Look who’s wandering blindly again.”
Laughter rippled through the guards. Lin Hao smiled—a predator’s baring of teeth.
“I’ve come to collect six months’ stipend. Thirty thousand taels.”
The bearded man’s mockery curdled into greed. “A blind man counting silver? Let’s wager. Name anything in my hand—guess right, I pay ten thousand. Guess wrong, your thirty thousand’s mine.”
Lin Hao tilted his head as if considering. The Kung Fu Fly alighted on the guard’s shoulder, compound eyes dissecting the fist clenched behind his back.
“A copper coin,” Lin Hao declared. “Worn smooth from fondling in taverns.”
The guard’s face purpled. He uncurled fingers to reveal a grooved copper piece—exactly as described.
“Cheat!” He lunged, but the Kung Fu Fly’s wings hummed a warning.
Lin Hao stepped back, innocence perfected through years of mockery. “Will the Zhao Clan’s honor tolerate welched bets?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The guards exchanged uneasy glances. Honor was a blade hanging over all their necks.
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Zhao Rong observed from a shadowed archway, his wizened face impassive. The blind fool’s luck? Or something darker?
As Lin Hao departed with forty thousand taels—the guard’s coerced payment—the old steward noted two anomalies: a fly tracing precise circles above the victor’s head, and the faintest scorch mark on the treasury’s lintel.
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In the manor’s deepest vault, Zhao Gaolie studied a ledger by lamplight. His finger paused at an entry—Lin Hao’s stipend: 30,000 taels, withdrawn.
“Rong.”
The steward materialized like smoke. “My lord?”
“Accelerate the surveillance. If he’s the spider behind this web…” The patriarch’s jade paperweight cracked under his grip. “Burn him before he spins further.”
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Lin Hao reclined in a rarely used gazebo, the Kung Fu Fly patrolling the perimeter. Wolf Spider skittered across his palm, venom sacs glistening.
Ding! Host’s wealth exceeds 50,000 taels. Evolution available for contracted beasts.
He selected the Kung Fu Fly. Wings blurred as it expanded—from housefly to hornet size, compound eyes gleaming with lethal acuity.
Ding! Kung Fu Fly upgraded to Tier 2. Poison stinger unlocked. Stealth capabilities enhanced.
A servant girl passing below screamed as the Fly dive-bombed her coiffure, shearing a lock of hair without touching skin.
Lin Hao chuckled. Forty thousand taels bought more than evolution—it bought chaos.
And chaos, in the Zhao Manor’s gilded cage, was the perfect smokescreen.
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Seizing the Wager
The bearded guard’s confidence wavered as Lin Hao’s unnerving calm gnawed at him. This blind fool’s too composed—did I walk into a trap? But pride overruled caution. He stormed to the kitchens, the Kung Fu Fly shadowing his every move.
Minutes later, he returned clutching what appeared to be an egg. The guards snickered—a crocodile egg, hollowed and refilled with water, its shell meticulously glued. Perfect bait for a blind man’s mistake.
Lin Hao cradled the counterfeit egg, fingertips tracing hairline fractures invisible to others. The Fly’s surveillance feed flashed in his mind—the guard’s sly grin as he injected water through a needle.
“Time’s up!” The guard snatched back the egg, smugness returning.
“A crocodile egg,” Lin Hao declared. Murmurs rippled through the onlookers. “But the weight’s wrong. Cracked and refilled… with water.”
His palm struck the egg. Liquid splashed the guard’s boots.
“Impossible!” The bearded man’s face purpled. “You cheated!”
Laughter died as Lin Hao extended a hand. “Ten thousand taels.”
The guard’s fingers twitched toward his sword hilt. “Take it from me, cripple.”
Lin Hao smiled. The Kung Fu Fly dive-bombed, scythe-like claws aimed at the guard’s wrist. Steel flashed—a desperate slash missed the Fly by millimeters.
“What sorcery is this?!” The guard backpedaled, sword whirling in panicked arcs.
Wolf Spider chose that moment to strike. Silk threads lanced from Lin Hao’s sleeve, piercing the man’s neck. Neurotoxins flooded his veins. Foam bubbled at his lips as he collapsed, twitching.
Lin Hao plucked the gold note from limp fingers. “A lesson in honor.”
The guards stared, horror dawning. That spider—the one from the bathhouse! The fly that maimed Third Steward Qin!
“He’s… a beast tamer!”
Whispers ignited like wildfire. The blind waste of flesh they’d mocked now commanded monsters.
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Zhao Rong observed from a latticed window, his aged fingers tightening around a jade talisman. The report to Lord Gaolie would require… delicacy.
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Lin Hao strode past trembling guards, the Fly buzzing a victory lap above his head. Wolf Spider nestled in his sleeve, venom sacs still glistening.
Ding! Host’s reputation as a Beast Tamer spreads. Contracted creatures gain +10% aggression.
He paused at the treasury threshold. “My stipend. Thirty thousand taels. Now.”
The clerk fumbled with lockboxes, coins clinking like a coward’s teeth.
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Elsewhere, Zhao Ling’er traced a fire rune in her meditation chamber, oblivious to the upheaval. Her husband’s name flickered briefly in her thoughts—a pebble soon to be kicked from her path.
How wrong she was.
The pebble had grown fangs.
And the Zhao Clan’s gilded halls would soon run red with them.