The crumbling stones of Zykrvitz castle faded into the misty distance as Alecto and Amycus Carrow walked away. Their boots thudded against the rain-soaked ground. A small group of Death Eaters followed behind them.

One of the lower-ranked wizards, a pockmarked man called Fenwick Babbington, leaned close and glanced around furtively. "They haven't caught on, have they?" he muttered under his foul breath.

Alecto shot him a withering look over her bony shoulder. Her dark eyes glinted with disdain. "Watch your mouth, Babbington," she hissed, "unless you want trouble." Her tone dripped with contempt for the blind obedience expected from the Dark Lord's followers.

Amycus scoffed. "That vampire can believe whatever nonsense she wants." His meaty hands clenched into fists. "The Dark Lord's return matters most now. Unless you want to face his wrath if we fail?"

Babbington flinched, shaking his head rapidly. The stringy strands of greasy hair stuck to his pockmarked cheeks swayed. "N-No, of course not! I was just asking..."

"Enough babbling," Alecto snapped, cutting him off with a wave of her hand. She reached inside her robes and pulled out a battered tin snuffbox. The other Death Eaters formed a loose circle around her, each placing a crooked finger on the ordinary object.

Alecto's feverish gaze swept over the pitiful number before her. Her lip curled with contempt. "Remember, you deal with beasts. Don't show weakness," she warned.

Amycus grinned savagely. "Beasts respect cruelty and strength," he rumbled. "I'll enjoy reminding them."

Satisfied, Alecto began counting down in a low hiss. "Three...two...one..."

The chilly air carried faint scents of pine and damp earth as they appeared in a secluded forest clearing. Alecto's dark, sunken eyes swept over the rugged, beast-like wizards waiting, lingering on Fenrir Greyback's hulking, unkempt form.

"Right on time," Greyback growled, lips curling back to reveal yellowed fangs. He lumbered forward as the werewolves parted before their leader. Despite his human appearance, he reminded her of a wild beast in the way he moved.

Alecto felt her brother tense beside her, no doubt recalling their last unpleasant meeting. She placed a calming hand on his arm before stepping forward to greet the werewolves.

"Fenrir," she said in a measured tone, keeping her expression impassive. "I trust you've considered our proposal?"

Greyback's feral gaze met hers without flinching. Spittle clung to his matted beard. "Aye. And we're listenin'...for now."

One of the younger werewolves, little more than a boy, snarled impatiently. His tattered clothes hung loosely on his emaciated frame. "Why should we help you wizards?" he spat through pointed teeth. "You've never done nothin' for our kind!"

Multiple growls echoed the sentiment. Alecto's wand hand twitched, but she restrained herself as Amycus stepped up beside her, shoulders thrown back menacingly.

"Mind your words, child," he spat, flecks of saliva flying. "You beasts should be grateful for this chance."

Fenrir silenced the rising tension with an upraised hand. The werewolves immediately fell silent and bowed their heads. "Enough from the pups. Let the masters speak their terms."

Alecto inclined her head slightly, eyes glittering. "The Dark Lord wishes to improve your welfare and status after he rises again. Aid his liberation, and he'll grant you your own territory - free from Ministry persecution."

Greyback's beady eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Is that so?" he rumbled, baring his teeth mockingly. "And what's to stop your 'Lord' from betraying us once he gets what he wants, like every wizard?"

"Because unlike the Ministry, the Dark Lord respects true magical beings like us," Amycus said with a cruel smile. "He will elevate us above the muggles and mudbloods who've kept us downtrodden."

A hungry look flickered across Greyback's scarred features. The other werewolves exchanged ambitious glances.

After a tense pause, Fenrir threw back his head and released a wild howl that shook the trees, sending birds scattering. Lowering his matted head, his lips twisted into a feral grin.

"Very well, wizards. You've bought the pack's aid...for now." His yellow eyes glinted menacingly. "But I warn you - any treachery, and there won't be enough left to fill a corpse crate."

"Your concerns are noted," Alecto replied tightly. She withdrew a silver pocket watch, its cracked face glinting in the pale moonlight. "We strike the Ministry in three nights, right before the full moon. Until then, lay low and avoid conflicts that could jeopardize the operation."

Greyback threw her a mocking look, lips peeling back over fangs. "As if we heed orders from your kind. We'll handle it our way."

Alecto's frown deepened, but she knew better than to push further with the volatile werewolves. With a curt nod, she rejoined the circle and grasped the small rock that would return them to a safehouse.

oo0ooOoo0oo

The penthouse apartment's sleek modern lines melded seamlessly with the Guangzhou skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Zhang Yuan reclined gracefully on a plush leather sofa, one knee crossed over the other as he sipped fragrant oolong tea. His long raven hair spilled over the crimson silk robe draped loosely around his lean frame.

A faint trill broke the tranquil silence. Zhang Yuan's obsidian eyes flickered open as the mundane landline continued its insistent ringing. With a soft sigh, he placed the delicate porcelain cup on the lacquered tray and rose up.

"This had better be important," he murmured, padding across the polished bamboo floors towards the phone's shrill summons. Lifting the receiver, he spoke in an annoyed tone. "What is it?"

The feminine voice on the other end caressed his senses like dark velvet. "Good evening, Zhang Yuan. I trust this finds you well?"

His lips thinned in distaste at the foreigner's accented Mandarin. Forcing patience, he replied evenly, "Gisela. To what do I owe this...unexpected call?"

The vampiress's rich chuckle danced along his spine like icy fingertips. "Straight to business as always, I see. Very well - I have a proposition that may arouse your interest."

One sculpted brow arched sceptically. "Do you now? I'm listening."

"In England, the Dark Lord Voldemort has risen again after over a decade." Gisela's tone took on an edge of cruel delight. "But… Albus Dumbledore managed to capture him. He's currently imprisoned deep within the Ministry of Magic in London."

Zhang Yuan was a little bit curious despite himself. Even in the insular Yellow Mountain Sect, tales of the Dark Lord's ruthless pursuit of forbidden magic had trickled through over the years. "I see. And I assume you're contacting me to assist in some ill-conceived rescue attempt?"

"Precisely." The vampiress's smile was almost audible through the line. "My clan has already allied with Voldemort's Death Eater followers. But I suspect we may need...additional resources to overcome the opposition awaiting us."

Drumming his nails in contemplation, Zhang Yuan scoffed softly. "You refer to the Jiangshi, I presume? What makes you think the Yellow Mountain Sect would sanction such an effort?"

"Oh, I'm prepared to compensate your sect most generously for rendering aid, of course," Gisela purred, her tone taking on a sultry lilt that made Zhang Yuan's lip curl faintly in distaste. "Perhaps we could...negotiate alternative terms to satisfy a virile young man like yourself?"

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

The blatant attempt at seduction washed over Zhang Yuan like so much meaningless static. These Western strumpets were so lacking in subtlety. "Flattering, but I'll pass," he replied with a derisive snort. "Name your price for materials. Nothing more."

A disappointed sigh whispered over the line before Gisela replied in a businesslike tone once more. "Very well. For your sect's aid, I can provide five hundred jin of Sunstone Dust, one hundred jin of Essence of Moonflower, and ten jin of Spectral Sap."

Now that was an enticing offer - those rare materials would greatly bolster the sect's alchemical reserves for years to come. Still, Zhang Yuan knew better than to leap at the first proposal like a starving peasant. He countered, "A generous start, but hardly sufficient compensation for the risks involved in such a mission. I want eight-fifty jin of Sunstone, two hundred of Moonflower, and fifteen jin of Spectral Sap. Not a single grain less."

The silence stretched for several beats before Gisela finally replied. "You drive a hard bargain, Zhang Yuan. But very well, I accept your terms. We have an accord."

A thin, predatory smile finally curved Zhang Yuan’s lips. "Excellent. I shall make the necessary arrangements and have the Jiangshi prepared for your operation forthwith."

"I look forward to it," the vampiress purred before the line went dead with a soft click.

Replacing the receiver with a weary sigh, Zhang Yuan pinched the bridge of his nose. Dealing with foreigners always gave him a headache - their boorish lack of decorum grated on his cultivated sensibilities like coarse sandpaper on silk.

Still, Gisela's offer was too lucrative to simply discard out of hand. Those rare materials would prove invaluable in furthering his own alchemical studies and progression along the Sect's techniques. With a shake of his head, Zhang Yuan turned and walked back towards the plush sofa.

Sinking into the buttery leather cushions, he closed his eyes and regulated his breathing through the ancient calming techniques drilled into him since childhood. Spiritual energy moved through his body in time with his pulse as his consciousness expanded outwards, the mundane penthouse's confines dissolving like a fleeting mirage.

The crisp scent of damp moss and towering pines filled Zhang Yuan's awareness as the Yellow Mountain's spiritual realm condensed around him. Beneath his feet, the gnarled roots of an impossibly ancient tree burrowed deep into the fertile soil. Placing one hand against the furrowed bark, he extended his spiritual sense further.

Across countless kilometres, he could feel the sect's energies in perfect harmony with his own – a connection forged between the Mother and Son Communion rituals built up over generations of hard work by the Yellow Mountain Sect. This spiritual communion allowed him to transcend mere physical distance without moving his body.

A subtle shift in perception, and the penthouse faded away. Zhang Yuan's spiritual essence flowed seamlessly into the sect's boundaries like a gentle stream rejoining its source. The crisp mountain air filled his lungs as his astral form coalesced at the main entrance of the Yellow Mountain.

The outer courtyard was busy with activity as dozens of young disciples went about their training routines. Some sparred with wooden practice swords, sweat beading their brows as they traded blows. Others sat in meditation beneath the swaying pines as they tried to focus on the ritual engraved in their souls and thus improve their spiritual sense.

The courtyard fell eerily silent as Zhang Yuan's presence manifested. Disciples froze mid-stance, eyes widening in reverence as they sensed the prodigious Inner Sect disciple's spiritual might.

"Greetings, Senior Disciple Zhang!" they called out in unison, hastily forming two straight lines. Heads bowed respectfully as Zhang Yuan walked between their ranks, dark eyes sweeping over them with cool disdain.

However, one young average-looking Outer Sect disciple broke formation. Jiang Chen's gaze burned with unconcealed hatred as he glared defiantly at the famed prodigy. Zhang Yuan's lip curled in a disdainful sneer upon sensing the boy's pitiful spiritual presence.

"Is there a problem, little worm?" he drawled mockingly. "Or are you so bereft of talent that even forming lines properly confuses your feeble mind?"

Jiang Chen flushed, fists clenching as suppressed resentment bubbled forth. "You..." he bit out through gritted teeth. "You have no right to mock me, Zhang Yuan! Not after how you treated Lian..."

A cruel chuckle spilled from Zhang Yuan's lips. Ah yes, the boy harboured affections for the beautiful Lian Fen - feelings she had swiftly rejected in favour of pursuing the Inner Sect prodigy's intimate guidance.

"What's this?" he sneered, dark amusement glinting in his obsidian gaze. "Don't tell me you're still bitter over that little incident? Lian chose the path of true power over wasting her talents on trash like you."

Rage contorted Jiang Chen's features into an ugly mask. He took a furious step forward, only for Zhang Yuan's overwhelming spiritual pressure to descend like a suffocating blanket. The young magi’s knees buckled instantly, driving him face-first into the hard-packed dirt with a pained grunt.

Zhang Yuan smirked arrogantly, grinding his heel into the prone disciple's back as he pinned him effortlessly. "Know your place, insect," he hissed. "Lian saw your true colours - a petty, jealous child unfit to walk the path of spiritual power. Now stay down and show your betters the respect they're due."

With a disdainful sniff, he released the spiritual weight and continued towards the Inner Sect compound, ignoring Jiang Chen's venomous glare boring into his back. Pathetic. The boy didn't even register as a potential threat on Zhang Yuan's radar. Distractions like him were better off purged to prevent contaminating the sect.

The heavy sandalwood doors swung open with a resounding boom as Zhang Yuan strode into the Inner Sect's main audience chamber. Rows of stern-faced elders sat in strict formation, and their spiritual signatures hummed with restrained power despite their advanced ages. At the room's heart, the wizened Patriarch Zhi Yuandao presided from an ornately carved throne, his milky eyes fixed sightlessly ahead.

"Greetings, Honoured Ancestors," Zhang Yuan intoned respectfully, sweeping into a shallow bow - just enough to observe the proper formalities. His dark eyes gleamed with the self-assured arrogance of one who knew his worth.

A tense silence stretched for several beats before Zhi's reedy voice cut through the stillness. "What matter brings you before us this day, Young Disciple? Speak plainly."

Rising smoothly, Zhang Yuan met the Patriarch's sightless gaze head-on. There would be no wasted words. "I come to requisition the Jiangshi for a dangerous mission in the West."

The words resonated with a chilling echo, stirring a wave of reactions among the elders. Some appeared thoughtful, others visibly disturbed by the idea of releasing those relentless horrors once again. At last, Elder Sheng, known for his staunch conservatism, scoffed in disdain.

"More recklessness involving those foreign barbarians?" he growled, leathery features twisting in disdain. "Have you learned nothing from your previous blunder, boy?"

Zhang Yuan's lip curled ever so slightly, but he refused to rise to the barbed taunt. Let the old fool cling to his ignorance - it would only hasten his faction's inevitable demise when the sect changed hands.

Before he could respond, however, Elder Yun - among the few who appreciated his vision - cut in with a placating gesture. "Let us not dismiss Young Zhang's words so readily. He has proven himself a cunning strategist many times over."

Turning her birdlike features towards the young prodigy, she nodded respectfully. "Please, elaborate on this opportunity you speak of. We are listening with open minds."

Zhang Yuan felt grateful towards Elder Yun, though his expression remained stoic. This was the opening he'd awaited - now to bring the others around.

"My thanks, Elder Yun," he said with an inclination of his head. "As some of you may already know, the Dark Lord Voldemort has risen again in the West after over a decade's absence. However, Albus Dumbledore managed to capture and imprison him within the British Ministry of Magic."

A buzz of interest swept through the chamber when he confirmed the rumours. Good—they were curious despite their usual wariness of foreign matters. It was the perfect moment to draw them in deeper.

"His followers have reached out proposing an alliance," Zhang Yuan continued calmly. "In return for our aid in freeing their master, they offer generous compensation - rare alchemical materials to bolster our sect's resources for years to come."

As expected, the mention of material rewards aroused the greed behind more than one elder's eyes. Even Sheng's disdain seemed to waver slightly despite his rigid traditionalism. Zhang Yuan pressed his advantage.

"I suspect freeing this Dark Lord may require...expendable assets of our own to overcome the opposition." His tone remained nonchalant, carefully masking the significance of his proposal. "Assets like the Jiangshi, for instance."

Several elders shifted in their seats, exchanging loaded looks that betrayed their sudden unease. Even Yun pursed her lips pensively, clearly weighing the implications.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the Patriarch spoke in a stony tone. "You aim to unleash those wicked monsters once more? For mere material rewards?" Despite his sightless eyes, Zhi's gaze seemed to bore into Zhang Yuan's very soul. "Their uncontrolled ferocity could expose us, bring ruin down upon our heads..."

"Which is why you would entrust them to my leadership, Honoured Ancestor," Zhang Yuan replied smoothly. "I have proven myself their master time and again without incident. Under my command, the Jiangshi will serve as potent expendable assets - nothing more."

He gave them a confident smile. "Just imagine the influence we could wield with these Western powers indebted to us. Rare materials pale compared to having the ear of their ruling Dark Lord himself."

One by one, Zhang Yuan watched the flickers of greed and ambition rekindle behind their eyes. Finally, even Sheng seemed to grudgingly acknowledge the merits of his proposal, however distasteful.

"Very well," Zhi said at last. "You make a compelling case, Young Disciple. We shall grant you access to the second-rank Jiangshi from the Jiang Vault - no more than fifteen to start."

Despite his outward cool, Zhang Yuan felt a surge of vindictive satisfaction. The old relics had no choice but to acknowledge his vision, no matter how it grated against their feeble traditions.

"You honour me with your trust, Honoured Ancestors," he replied with a shallow bow, not bothering to hide the hint of smug satisfaction in his tone. "I will take great care to ensure this mission does not expose the Yellow Mountain Sect’s spiritual teachings to the outside world."

With those parting words, he turned away from the chamber, back straight and head held high.

Let the elders cling to their power for now. Soon, whether they willed it or not, the sect's destiny would be mine to command.