Chapter 135: Debt Repaid II

A figure emerged from a small side door set into the stone wall beside the gate, robed entirely in black, a plain cloth mask covering everything below the eyes. He approached the carriage without hurry, his steps silent against the packed dirt, and stopped a few paces short of the window.

The scarred man reached into his coat and withdrew a small metal plaque, holding it up without a word. The masked figure studied it for a long moment, tilting his head slightly as though checking some detail only he knew to look for, then gave a single short nod and turned back toward the gate without ever speaking a word himself.

The iron gate groaned open, swinging inward to reveal the full expanse of farmland stretching out beyond it, far larger than Lu Bao had anticipated from the road. The masked figure stepped aside to let the carriage pass, then moved to begin closing the gate again behind them the moment the wheels had cleared the threshold.

"Friendly sort," Lu Bao muttered, mostly to himself.

The scarred man didn’t bother responding.

They drove on for another two minutes or so, the carriage rolling along a packed dirt path that cut straight through the cultivated fields on either side, rows of grain and vegetables swaying gently in the morning breeze, tended, as far as Lu Bao could tell, by nobody visible at all. It should have looked peaceful. Instead, the emptiness of it, the complete absence of ordinary farmhands going about ordinary work, only deepened the unease sitting in his chest.

Eventually a building came into view ahead of them, rising up out of the fields like something that didn’t quite belong there. It was larger than Lu Bao had expected, built low and wide rather than tall, constructed from dark timber and stone in a style that looked more like a fortified manor than any farmhouse he’d ever seen.

High walls surrounded the main structure, thick enough to stop more than wind and rain, with narrow slits cut into them at intervals that Lu Bao suspected were meant for watching, or worse. A few black-robed figures moved along the wall’s upper walkway, too distant to make out clearly, their presence more implied than seen.

The carriage rolled to a stop in a wide courtyard just before the main entrance, and Lu Bao climbed down on legs that felt considerably less steady than they had back at his own estate. The scarred man dismounted beside him, the bag of gold coin tucked securely under one arm, and led the way toward a set of heavy double doors without waiting to see if Lu Bao would follow.

He followed.

Inside, the building carried the same understated severity as its exterior, dim corridors lit by evenly spaced lanterns, bare stone floors polished smooth by years of foot traffic, none of the ornamentation Lu Bao was accustomed to seeing in a household of any real standing.

It felt less like a residence and more like something built purely for function, every hallway and doorway serving some deliberate purpose Lu Bao couldn’t begin to guess at.

They passed several more black-robed, masked figures along the way, each one pausing briefly to watch them pass before returning to whatever task had occupied them, and Lu Bao found himself increasingly grateful for the scarred man’s presence beside him. Alone, he doubted he’d have made it ten steps past the front doors without something going terribly wrong.

Finally, they reached a room near the rear of the building, its door already standing open, warm lamplight spilling out into the corridor in a way that felt almost jarring after the muted dimness of everything they’d passed through to get here.

The scarred man gestured for Lu Bao to enter first.

The room beyond was simply furnished, a low table surrounded by cushions, shelves lined with what looked like ledgers and scrolls rather than anything decorative, a single large window letting in soft daylight from the fields outside.

And seated at the table, waiting with an ease that seemed almost out of place given everything Lu Bao had seen on the way here, was a figure entirely unlike what he’d braced himself for.

Bloodhound was, if anything, gentle in appearance. A woman, though her presence carried none of the softness the word usually implied, with striking blood red hair pulled back into a simple bun, a few loose strands framing a face that looked more suited to poetry recitals than to whatever business had cost forty-one men their lives.

Her robes were plain, understated, nothing about her posture or expression suggesting the kind of ruthlessness Lu Bao had spent the past several days imagining in increasingly grim detail.

"Lu Bao," she said, her voice soft, almost warm. "Please, sit. You look as though you’ve been dreading this meeting for quite some time."

He lowered himself onto the cushion across from her with as much composure as he could manage, which wasn’t much. "I have, if I’m honest."

"There’s no need to be, not today." She gestured toward the scarred man, who stepped forward and set the bag of gold coin down on the low table between them without a word. "Let’s see what you’ve brought me."

She opened the bag herself, spilling a portion of its contents out across a cloth spread over the table, and began counting with quick, practiced fingers, sorting coins into neat stacks as she went. Lu Bao sat in tense silence throughout, watching each stack grow, his own heartbeat loud enough in his ears that he barely heard the soft clink of gold against gold.

At last, she sat back, folding her hands neatly in her lap, and looked up at him with something that might have almost been approval.

"It’s all here," she said. "Every last installment, and this final payment besides. You’ve settled your debt in full, Lu Bao."

Something in his chest finally loosened, a knot he’d been carrying so long he’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to breathe without it. "Then we’re finished. I’ve paid what I owed."

"You have." Bloodhound’s expression softened further, something almost warm crossing her sharp eyes. "I’ll admit, I wasn’t certain you’d manage it. Most men in your position either flee the city entirely or simply stop paying once the sums grow difficult. You did neither. That says something worth respecting."

"Thank you," Lu Bao managed, though the words felt strange leaving his mouth in a room like this.

"You’re free to move as you please, with no further obligation to me on this matter." She reached for a cup of tea sitting near her elbow, taking a slow sip before continuing. "And I’ll say honestly, I look forward to whatever future dealings might come our way. A man who pays his debts in full, even when it costs him nearly everything he has, is a man worth keeping as an acquaintance rather than an enemy."

Lu Bao inclined his head slightly, unsure whether gratitude or relief was the more appropriate response, and settled for something that resembled both.

"There is one more matter, however," Bloodhound said, and something in her tone shifted, subtle but unmistakable, enough that Lu Bao’s brief relief tightened right back into wariness.

"What matter?"

"I’m sending someone to Crimson Vale," she said. "To confirm whether your nephew survived the attempt on his life. If he did, that person will remain there for a time, watching him quietly, learning what they can."

Lu Bao’s throat went dry. "I don’t understand. I’ve paid everything I owed. Why does this concern Lu Feng at all now?"

"Because this was never about you, Lu Bao, not entirely." Bloodhound set her cup down with deliberate care. "You gave me the coin owed for your part in this, and I’ve accepted it. But forty-one of my people died carrying out a task built on information you provided, information that turned out to be badly, dangerously wrong. That is not a debt gold alone can fully settle, not when it comes to understanding exactly what killed them."

"You think he’s powerful enough to matter to you directly."

"I think I don’t yet know what he’s become, and not knowing troubles me a great deal more than losing forty-one men to a job gone wrong ever could on its own." Her gaze sharpened, though her voice remained just as soft as before. "So I intend to find out. Quietly, carefully. Whether that ends in nothing at all, or in something worth my continued attention, remains to be seen."

Lu Bao said nothing, unsure whether protesting would help his case or simply remind her of exactly how badly his last piece of information had gone.

"This isn’t punishment," Bloodhound added, seeming to read the anxiety plain on his face. "Your debt is settled. But I need you to understand something clearly, before you leave this room today." Her voice dropped slightly, losing none of its softness but gaining an edge underneath it that made Lu Bao’s skin prickle. "A mistake of this scale does not happen twice. Not from you, not from anyone I do business with. Do you understand me?"

"I understand," Lu Bao said quickly. "It won’t happen again."

"Good." Just as quickly, the edge in her voice smoothed back over, warmth returning as easily as it had left. "I’ll send word if my people learn anything of note concerning your nephew or his whereabouts. Whether that’s useful to you or simply satisfies your own curiosity, I’ll leave for you to decide."

"Thank you," Lu Bao said again, rising as the scarred man gestured toward the door, understanding without needing to be told that the meeting had reached its end.

Bloodhound offered him a small, almost pleasant nod of farewell, already reaching for another scroll on the shelf beside her as though the entire conversation had already slipped from her thoughts.

The walk back out through the building felt shorter than the walk in, though Lu Bao suspected that had more to do with the lightness now sitting in his chest than any actual difference in distance. The scarred man led him back out through the courtyard, past the same black-robed figures along the wall, back to the waiting carriage, and said nothing further as they climbed inside and began the long ride back toward the gate.

It wasn’t until they’d cleared the iron gate entirely, the farmland and its fortified building fading slowly behind them, that Lu Bao finally allowed himself to exhale, long and shuddering, like a man who’d been holding his breath underwater for far longer than he should have and had only just now remembered how to breathe properly again. "I don’t think I ever want to see her again."