The tiles of the roof were cold and slick with the evening damp, digging into Jin Hao’s ribs as he lay flat, pressed against the dark clay.

  He was currently perched atop a noodle shop in the lower merchant district, a place noisy enough to mask his breathing but close enough to the main thoroughfares to gather intelligence.

  He chewed on a piece of stale bun he had swiped earlier, his stomach rumbling in protest.

  The Treasure Devourer System could convert raw matter into cultivation base, but it did a poor job of stopping the simple pangs of hunger.

  "I am a Late Stage expert," he muttered into the rough tile, a bitter taste in his mouth. "I should be dining in the Cloud Pavilion. I should be sleeping on silk. Instead, I'm hiding from my own family like a common burglar."

  [Host energy reserves at 88%. Recommend consumption of high grade spiritual materials to maintain peak combat readiness.]

  "Shut up," Jin Hao hissed at the blue screen hovering in his peripheral vision. "Find me a treasury that isn't guarded by an army and I'll eat it. Until then, keep scanning for patrols."

  Below him, the heavy thud of armored boots echoed against the stone street. Jin Hao held his breath, pulling his aura deep inside himself, relying on the system’s concealment function.

  A squad of five Jin Family guards marched into view. These men wore the dark iron armor of the subjugation units, their faces grim, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords.

  They stopped right below his hiding spot, congregating near a street lantern.

  "Any sign of the rat?" one of them grunted, spitting onto the cobbles.

  "Nothing," another replied, his voice tight with frustration. "The Patriarch is tearing the estate apart. He’s executed three servants today just for looking suspicious. He says the thief must have help. No one breaks through to Late Stage Foundation Establishment overnight without demonic art."

  Jin Hao smirked against the roof tile. Demonic art? No, you fools. It’s called talent.

  "It doesn't matter," a third guard said, his voice more malicious. "The Patriarch has played his trump card. The rat will come out of his hole soon enough."

  Jin Hao’s ears perked up. Trump card?

  "You mean the prisoner?"

  "Aye. Jin Ren." The guard chuckled darkly. "They dragged him out of the water prison an hour ago. He’s hanging in the main courtyard now, stripped to his waist. Patriarch Bolin announced that for every hour the thief doesn't surrender, he takes a finger from the father. If the thief doesn't show by sunrise... he takes the head."

  Jin Hao felt the blood drain from his face. The stale bun turned to lead in his stomach.

  Father.

  Jin Ren. The man who had spent his entire fortune to send Jin Hao to the main family. The man who had bowed and scraped to get his son a chance at a better life.

  He was a weak man, a man without talent, but he was the only person in this wretched world who had ever looked at Jin Hao with genuine affection.

  "They captured him?" Jin Hao whispered, his voice trembling with a violent rage. "Bolin... you animal."

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  Fury surged through him. He wanted to jump down there. He wanted to use his new Celestial Fire Purging Palm to incinerate these guards, to march to the estate and burn it to the ground.

  He braced his hands against the tiles, ready to launch himself.

  [Emotional instability detected. Combat analysis: Hostile force in immediate vicinity is low threat. However, engaging will trigger city wide alerts. Probability of reaching Jin Estate and surviving: 0.04%.]

  The mechanical numbers splashed across his vision like a bucket of ice water.

  Jin Hao froze. He grit his teeth so hard they creaked. The system was right. He was strong, but he wasn't invincible.

  "I will kill Bolin," he vowed to the darkness, his fingernails scratching grooves into the roof tiles. "I will kill the Jin family. I will kill them all."

  He forced himself to relax, muscle by muscle, pressing himself back into the shadows. He waited until the patrol moved on, their laughter fading into the distance.

  Only then did he let out a shuddering breath.

  "Young Master Jin."

  The voice came from behind him.

  Jin Hao spun around, scrambling backward into a defensive crouch, white fire already igniting around his right hand.

  Standing on the peak of the roof, silhouetted against the moon, was a figure clad in dark fitting night clothes. She wore a veil over the lower half of her face.

  "Who are you?" Jin Hao snarled, the flame in his hand flickering.

  The woman raised her hands, palms open, showing she held no weapons. "Peace, Young Master Jin. If I wished to harm you, I would have struck while you were distracted by the guards."

  Jin Hao hesitated. "Then what do you want? Speak, or I burn you."

  "I am Suyu," the woman said, her voice respectful. "I am the personal maid of the Second Miss of the Su Family."

  Jin Hao frowned, his mind racing. "The Su Family? Meira Su?"

  "No," Suyu corrected gently. "My mistress is Su Lian."

  The name hit Jin Hao like a physical caress. The fire in his hand extinguished instantly.

  Su Lian.

  The goddess from the banquet. The woman in the green dress who had smiled at him when everyone else looked at him with contempt. The woman who was trapped in a world that didn't appreciate her, just like him.

  "Su Lian?" Jin Hao repeated, his voice losing its edge, replaced by a sudden hope. "She... she sent you?"

  "She did," Suyu said, bowing slightly. "My mistress has heard of your... difficulties. She has heard the lies the Jin Family spreads about you. She does not believe them."

  Jin Hao straightened his posture, puffing out his chest. He brushed a speck of dirt from his ruined robes, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. "She doesn't?"

  "She believes that a dragon often finds itself besieged by lesser beasts," Suyu said, her words dripping with a honeyed flattery that Jin Hao drank up like water in a desert. "She wishes to meet with you. To offer her aid."

  Jin Hao’s heart hammered against his ribs. It was happening. Just like in the stories. The hero is cornered, the world is against him and then the jade like beauty reaches out her hand.

  "She wants to see me?" Jin Hao asked, a grin threatening to break through his serious facade. "Now?"

  "Immediately," Suyu said. "It is not safe here. The Jin patrols are tightening their net. Please, follow me."

  She turned and leaped lightly from the roof, landing in the alley below with the grace of a cat.

  Jin Hao didn't hesitate. "System," he thought, smug satisfaction radiating from him. "Did you hear that?"

  [Host charisma appears effective.]

  Even the System agreed. Jin Hao dropped into the alley, landing beside Suyu. "Lead the way."

  They moved through the city, sticking to the shadows. Suyu moved with a surprising speed and familiarity with the city's underbelly, guiding him through twists and turns that avoided every major checkpoint.

  They moved toward the edge of the Noble District, stopping before a walled courtyard nestled between two larger estates.

  "This is a private residence," Suyu explained, unlocking the side gate. "My mistress purchased it secretly for her own... cultivation. No one knows of it. You will be safe here."

  A secret love nest. Jin Hao’s imagination ran wild.

  They entered the main house. It was elegantly furnished and smelled faintly of jasmine.

  Suyu led him to a sitting room where a low table was set with a steaming pot of tea and plates of delicate pastries.

  "Please, sit," Suyu said. "My mistress is on her way."

  She bowed and retreated into the shadows of the house.

  Jin Hao sat down heavily on a silk cushion. He grabbed a pastry. a flaky thing filled with red bean paste… and shoved it into his mouth. He poured a cup of tea and downed it in one gulp, not caring that it burned his throat.

  He ate voraciously, crumbs falling onto his dirty robes. He drank cup after cup of tea. He felt like a king reclaiming his throne.

  "She likes me," he mumbled around a mouthful of cake. "She really likes me. She must have been watching me since the banquet. "

  He wiped his greasy hands on his pants. He needed to look presentable. He tried to smooth his hair, but it was a hopeless tangle.