The Ascension of the suppressed Dragon

chapter 5 the orphan's coin

“Gold buys loyalty,” I said, letting the purse fall from my hand, “but silence buys the truth.”

The Blind Vulture tavern didn’t just quiet—it stiffened. The heavy purse slammed onto the grease-stained counter, silver clinking loud enough to turn heads. The wood groaned. A man at the far table paused mid-sip. Another slowly set his cup down. The barkeep’s scarred fingers hovered over the coins, his eye flicking from the gold-leafed edges to my face.

“That’s high-tier coin,” he wheezed, lips peeling back from broken teeth. “Too clean. Too heavy. Not something a rookie walks around with. What do you want, Mo Ying? Beast routes? Forbidden Peaks maps?”

“I’m looking for a ghost,” I said. “An old man. Worked the kitchens inside the Ling Clan estate. Old Han.”

His hand froze.

He didn’t touch the purse. He didn’t even breathe for a moment. Then his gaze darted across the tavern—left, right, back to me. “Old Han?” he whispered. “You want a shallow grave with your name on it?”

“I want answers.”

“That old dog was purged when the new Clan Head took over,” he hissed. “If he’s alive, he’s rotting where the sun doesn’t reach.”

“The Pit?” I asked.

He nodded once. “Southern slums. Where the law forgets you exist. Anyone tied to the Old Regime is poison. Ling Zhaoyang doesn’t forgive. He erases.”

“I like poison,” I said, plucking a single gold coin from the pile and flipping it once. “Where in the Pit?”

His jaw tightened. “Bridge of Sighs. Look for the beggar with no eyes.”

I turned before he could take the coin back.

The Pit lived up to its name. A crater of broken stone, rot, and discarded lives. The air tasted of damp copper. Somewhere, someone laughed too hard. Somewhere else, someone cried until they didn’t. I followed the sound of coughing until I saw him—curled beneath a rusted iron overhang, wrapped in rags that barely held together. A wooden bowl lay at his feet. Three copper coins. Filth.

“I paid,” he whimpered before I spoke. “Please. The tax was paid.”

“Old Han,” I said.

He flinched violently. “I have nothing left! Please, Master, I have nothing!”

“I’m not here for tax,” I said, kneeling in the mud. I reached into my cloak and pulled out a dried sweet-bun. “Lotus Peak harvest. Extra honey.”

He froze.

“That scent…” His head tilted. His nostrils flared. “Only one person ever asked for those.”

“The boy you called Little Firebrand,” I said.

The bowl slipped from his hands and shattered against stone. “Master Feng?” His voice cracked. “No… no, it can’t be. You’re dead. The Cliff took you. I saw the blood myself.”

“The Cliff missed,” I said. My voice shook despite myself. “Tell me, Han. What happened after I fell?”

He began to weep. “They wiped your names. Your parents. No tablets. No mourning rites.”

“And my mother?” I pressed.

His shoulders trembled harder. “Zhaoyang kept her tablet.”

“Kept?” I said.

“As a footstool,” Han sobbed. “The white jade one your father carved with his own soul-force. He laughs about it during tea. Says the Grand Matriarch finally knows her place—under his heel.”

The ground beneath my boots cracked.

“He will scream for a thousand years,” I whispered.

“Who’s screaming?” a voice barked.

Four men stepped into the alley, black-and-teal uniforms gleaming dully. Heavy batons rested against their shoulders. The leader kicked Han’s bowl into the gutter.

“Well, well,” he sneered. “Secret meetings in the dirt?”

“Please, Master Liu,” Han begged, forehead striking mud. “I was just leaving.”

“Leaving?” Liu laughed. “You owe Shadow Protection.”

His eyes slid to me. “And you? Charity worker?”

“You’re Ling Clan,” I said, standing.

“Division Four,” he bragged. “Pay or bleed.”

“You represent a traitor.”

The alley went silent.

“What did you say?” Liu stepped closer.

“I said your master is a thief and a coward,” I replied calmly. “And you’re the maggots feeding on his rot.”

“Kill him!” Liu roared.

They lunged.

“Shadow Bind.”

Darkness surged. Their shadows rose like liquid iron, pinning them mid-step.

“I can’t move!”

Liu stumbled back—but his own shadow seized his throat and slammed him into the wall.

“You like power,” I said softly. “You like taking from people who can’t fight back.”

“Who… who are you?” he wheezed.

I leaned close. Whispered the code. “The Phoenix falls in the Ninth Watch. The Shadow rises at Dawn.”

His eyes went wide. “Impossible. You’re dead.”

“The Void leaves debts,” I said. “Tell your master the footstool is coming back.”

I released him.

They ran.

Han trembled. “Master Feng?”

“Hide,” I said, pressing the purse into his hands. “Leave the Pit.”

“Where will you go?”

I looked toward the Phoenix Spire. “I’m getting my mother’s furniture back.”

As I walked away, the shadows stretched and swallowed the alley. High above, the Spire’s bell began to toll.

Someone had felt the Void.