Stir It Up, Stir It Up, Stir It Up

It was fair to say that overnight, Ling Shuo's name had spread throughout the entire Present World—from the Thousand Islands across the Endless Sea to the Mid-Continent at the center of the realm, and even into the Federation and the Empire. From a nameless nobody to being famed across the land. Though places like Tianyuan couldn't be bothered to care and wouldn't spare him a second glance, every single Wild Gathering branch had received word and was paying some degree of attention. After all, he was a fresh Dragon Head about to take his seat, representing not only himself, but the vast market, supply chains, and power of the Seven Cities now unified behind him. Another chair had been pulled up to the table; the Wild Gathering's grand cafeteria had welcomed a brand-new member. Would there be a chance to grab an extra bite of food, or would someone end up with less on their plate? Was there room to cut a deal and open up a new avenue of profit, or should they kick someone while they were down to snatch back a choice cut of fat? Everyone's petty calculations had begun quietly spinning. Some were already making plans, while many more, after learning the whole story, pulled up low stools, cracked open peanuts and melon seeds, and settled in to watch the show. Hey, what a damn good spectacle! You folks in the Thousand Islands sure know how to put on a performance... As things stood, the only thing Ling Shuo lacked to claim the true title of Dragon Head was the official recognition itself. The allegiance of the Seven Cities, the deference of ten thousand men. Internally, he could mediate disputes and put an end to senseless feuds; externally, he could act with sole authority and shoulder the responsibilities of the Wild Gathering. After that birthday banquet, he was already the de facto ruler of the Seven Cities' underworld, even if he still lacked so much as half an official title to his name. Tianyuan set immense store by official ranks and sacred vessels—rank and authority could never be granted lightly. For someone without title or status like him, no matter how much he accomplished, it meant jack shit; without an official post, who the hell were you? But the White Stag didn't give a damn about any of that. When you ran the streets, what mattered was having plenty of brothers, a big territory, and extensive clout. As long as you had two out of the three, you were considered capable; even having just one would do. If you could keep the crowd in line, then even if you slaughtered the previous Dragon Head in broad daylight and took his seat yourself, the Wild Gathering still wouldn't care. Yes, that was right—we of the White Stag are just that free! *** Before dawn had even broken, Ling Shuo's formal application and all the intelligence on what had transpired had already arrived straight at the core of the Wild Gathering, within a Border Realm. There was none of the blood-drenched savagery or grim, imposing dread outsiders imagined. The central hub perched above countless Wild Gathering branches, the nexus where the shadows of the Present World converged, looked remarkably like a corporate office park. Inside office buildings, brisk and capable clerks bustled to and fro; there were fewer Celestial Chosen than there were accountants, actuaries, and investment managers. By comparison, it looked far more like a major investment bank or a modern tech enterprise. Everyone came to work to review spreadsheets, write summaries, draft reports, and submit proposals. They clocked in from nine to five. Most faced dull, tedious figures every day, drawing fixed salaries bumped up by performance bonuses at best. The Wild Gathering had even enrolled everyone in medical insurance and retirement plans with Everlasting Bank. All in all... this was a legitimate, upstanding enterprise! Yes, it was so thoroughly formal and aboveboard from top to bottom that it felt downright eerie. The rowdiest and most chaotic section was an atrium that resembled a call center. A steady din of voices rose and fell as dozens of operators listened to reports from the other end of the line, logged entries, uploaded them to the system, and awaited approval from the upper tiers. Above the sixth floor, however, lay a desolate quiet. Silence hung over numerous empty offices, leaving one to wonder whether the cleaners had slacked off and allowed a layer of dust to settle over everything. "The old bastard said that years ago, this place originally had sixteen floors. It was bustling like mad from top to bottom, with mail canisters whizzing through pneumatic tubes all day long. People waiting in line couldn't be bothered to wait for the elevators, so they took the stairs. The entire stairwell echoed from morning to night—there was never a quiet moment." "And now?" "Now? We went paperless god knows how many years ago. Automated answering systems took over. You call headquarters, and it tells you: 'For the Federation, press 1. For the Empire, press 2. For contract killings, press 9. For an operator, press the star key...' And after waiting half an eternity, it might just tell you that all agents are currently busy and ask you to call back later." "Does it play hold music while you wait?" "Just that one crappy piano piece looping over and over. Total garbage. Terrible taste." "True enough." In the break room outside the conference chamber, the idle twin brothers were yawning and bantering back and forth. Lounging in their chairs, they grabbed discarded documents, folding them into paper airplanes or crumpling them into balls to shoot at the trash can, hitting the mark every single time. An De and An Neng—whose full names echoed the lines, *Would that tens of thousands of spacious mansions could be sheltered,* and *How could I bow and scrape to power and privilege?* Still clad in loud floral T-shirts, baggy shorts, flip-flops, and oversized sunglasses, they lay sprawled across their chairs like two heaps of mud. Growing utterly bored out of his mind, An De lifted his head and bobbed it toward the middle-aged man sitting opposite them, who wore a tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses, looking every bit the office supervisor. "Psst, psst, Old Yuan, what's this actually about? Dragging us all the way here to sit around?" An De winked playfully. "Who's on the hit list this time? You're stationed here year-round—how about giving your brothers a hint?" "What are you two curs playing dumb for?" Yuan Xing rolled his eyes. "Do you really have no clue why the Chiefs summoned you?" "How the hell should I know?!" The brothers chorused in unison, wagging their heads in a display that annoyed Yuan Xing to no end. He tossed a stack of documents straight across. "Read it yourselves!" The folder flipped open, and the two brothers poked their heads in together, skimming through layer upon layer of briefing sheets. Right at the top was a photograph of a youth. "Oh ho, isn't this A-Ran?" "Look at him making something of himself. Quite a grand feat!" "Didn't I say that Ji kid has a knack for this? Always guiding folks onto the righteous path!" "Oof, and it's Blade Tooth! That's wild! He even brought out the Four Seasons Sword. I'd say this kid has the bearing of a Celestial-Human!" "Let's show this to the old bastard later. It'll definitely earn him an extra couple of drinks." "Too right, too right..." With his arms folded over his chest, Yuan Xing's eyes rolled so far back they nearly hit the ceiling. How had they ended up with these two unreliable clowns? "Could you mind your expressions, please?" he warned. "In the last few days alone, I've received over a dozen formal complaints accusing your family of abusing its authority. With a kid causing such a mess out there, isn't your household going to offer an explanation?" Instantly, both brothers looked up at the same time. "What fucking explanation? Kids aren't allowed to go out and earn a few bucks on a gig? The matrix he used wasn't even Flying Light, so what the fuck more do they want?" "Besides, he wasn't wearing gloves. If any other family's brat has the guts, go kill him. I won't hold a grudge." "Right, exactly." "Wait, no, no..." "No, that is right." "Could one of you just speak for once?!" Yuan Xing's ears were aching from the stereo performance of these two bastards. He truly couldn't take it! It was sheer psychological torture. He had already begun regretting engaging with them at all. Just as they said, An Ran's actions weren't actually that big of a deal. After all, he hadn't used Flying Light, nor had he worn gloves, and what he carried was Blade Tooth... The reason everyone was so panicked was simply because the deterrence of the Hand of the Chief was far too terrifying and cast too vast a shadow, leaving people jumping at shadows and trembling at the rustle of leaves. All it needed was for the An family to issue an announcement and clarification; it didn't come anywhere near being weighed on the scales of judgment. The reason these two had been called in was partly routine procedure, and partly so that if anything touched upon their family, they would be on hand for consultation. In truth, today's real business had very little to do with An Ran. It was about Ling Shuo's application. Even that wasn't particularly major or troublesome. It was merely standard protocol—the establishment of a new Wild Gathering branch required a report to the leadership, where the three on-duty Chiefs would review and approve it to demonstrate absolute control over the organization. Among the twelve Chiefs, the "unlucky bastards" stuck handling these trivial chores this year were Chen, Wei, and Hai. On the other side of the door, there was no grim, solemn atmosphere inside the conference room. Tea, coffee, and pastries sat on the table, with pastry crumbs scattered across the paperwork. It felt far more like an afternoon tea, with everyone flipping through files and chatting with playful banter. "Heh, wasn't the last time he took a loss also over a peace banquet?" The elderly man designated as Hai stroked his chin and clicked his tongue in bemusement. "Poor Old Six—his whole life, he ended up undone by these two cups of liquor. In his old age, he got stepped on by a pup he raised himself. Miserable, truly miserable. He's probably fuming mad right now." Beside him, Chen finished a round of a mobile game while sipping his tea, then looked up across the table. "Old Wei, how's the application? You've been staring at it forever. Say something, will you?" "Can't make heads or tails of it. I'm uneducated, damn it." Wei tossed the single sheet of paper onto the table in irritation. "It's all convoluted nonsense, full of obscure, fancy words. What's he trying to do, pass an academic exam?" "Hmm, let me take a look..." Hai put on his reading glasses, scrutinized it, and was instantly amused. "'...With the modest strength of the Seven Cities, to once again illuminate the Path of the White Stag?' Heh, the kid's young, but his words are mighty bold. Whether he dares to back them up is another question, but he certainly dares to say it." "Plunge into the Void Abyss to seal a breach—can he do that?" Wei sneered. "Slaughter the Wolf Den and exterminate both wolves—can he do that? If nothing else, bring back the head of an emperor or a president, and then I'll grant that he's displayed the glory of the White Stag. Whenever you ask, they're all full of loyalty; whenever there's actual work, not a damn one shows up. Whatever drive they have is spent putting on a show." "Knowing how to put on a show is already something. He's usable material at least." Having scanned the summary, Hai understood the situation in the Seven Cities and its causes and effects with crystal clarity. Skimming past Ling Shuo's photograph, his gaze settled directly onto Ji Jue's intelligence file. He clicked his tongue in marvel. Truly, the new wave pushes the old. The youth of today certainly had daring ideas and the guts to follow through. If nothing else, his reach was extraordinarily long—long enough to reach straight into the Wild Gathering. Every single person seated here was a survivor who had laughed last through countless struggles within the Wild Gathering. A single glance was enough to see what was going on. This so-called Ling Shuo was merely a front and a puppet, a chess piece and spokesperson pushed forward by Ji Jue. He certainly had nerve! To dare play parlor tricks right under the noses of the Chiefs? To this, the Wild Gathering's usual reaction was... no reaction at all. Who cared! Just a spokesperson—so what? As if there weren't already dozens of people like that in the Wild Gathering... Years ago, before Nirvana, whenever people went out to handle dirty work, didn't they all wear the Wild Gathering's banner as an alias? Anyone who came here had something shady to hide anyway, so why fuss over formalities? It wasn't as if this were Tianyuan. Never mind a Dragon Head—even among the twelve Chiefs, two of them still had murky, ambiguous ties with Midtown and Dadu! Where did this even rank by comparison? Come if you want, open and barefaced. The Wild Gathering refused no one! Even with Ji Jue's manipulation and control laid bare before them, the Chiefs paid it no mind, finding the subterfuge entirely unnecessary. Why so polite? You could have just stepped up yourself! You wouldn't even need cosmetic surgery—just swap your name, and we'd pretend not to recognize you. In contrast, what the Chiefs cared about most was the underlying thread behind this matter... and the unrest brewing among the other Wild Gathering branches in recent days. "Look at the commotion..." Hai sighed. "Just a whisper of a rumor leaked out, and the people down below are already on the verge of exploding." "Isn't that a good thing?" Chen chuckled. "Good things, all of them." "Good my ass!" Wei pulled a sour face. "One after another, they only stayed quiet for a few years before stirring up trouble everywhere again... If this goes on, there won't be any rules left." "It's not that complicated. As long as the Chiefs exist, the rules exist. Whatever rules the Chiefs want, those are the rules." Chen kept smiling. "His Excellency The Hermit wants to adjust the rules, so let them be adjusted. It's good for everyone. We can take this chance to weed out the pretenders padding the ranks. I'd love to see how much true gold is left once the waves wash away the sand." "Aren't we getting off track?" Hai finished his tea, picked up the seal representing the supreme authority of the Present World's shadows from the table, casually blew warm breath on it, and stamped it onto the application along with scattered crumbs and tea dregs. "All right, that's that." He dropped the application into the adjacent pneumatic tube and concluded with a casual instruction: "Since he wants to get things done, let him draw a lot." *** Three minutes later, the Chiefs' directive and a lot cylinder were carried by a clerk into the break room beside the conference chamber, delivering the Chief's exact words: "The kid just made something of himself, that's all—no need to make a fuss." Presenting the lot cylinder, the clerk relayed the message: "I figured since you're already here, and you're the Hand of the Chief, you might as well shake the cylinder for him on the way." At once, An De and An Neng exchanged glances in brief shock before turning their eyes toward the cylinder before them. Then, rubbing their palms together, they grew excited. Now this was rare. They'd never played with this before! This was the final test issued for Ling Shuo's application. Though the Wild Gathering's organization was loose, its internal affairs messy, and its absurdities beyond count, it was not a public restroom where anyone could come and go as they pleased. Even when going through the motions, there were rules to follow. Just like the trials before an underworld promotion, since you claimed you wanted to contribute to the Wild Gathering, you had to perform a service for it first. Whatever lot you drew from the cylinder was what you got. Complete it, and everyone was happy; fail, and tough luck—it only proved you lacked the capability, and everything else you did was for nothing. Explore this area later, buddy. As for the tasks written on the lots, they were an absolute mishmash of everything under the sun. Aside from commissions recently deemed troublesome, difficult, and unprofitable by the Wild Gathering that had to be accepted for various reasons, the Chiefs would occasionally toss in random whims of their own. Ten wolf carcasses, a single Celestial-Human head, a ticket to a Federation celebrity's concert, antique hunting, cultivating rare flowers, hair care, and makeup... One could only say that the upper and lower limits were utterly absurd. As a result, since its inception, this mechanism was rarely used as a proper test; more often, it served as a punishment for the lower branches—a blind-box lucky draw for those who had broken the rules yet still sought salvation. It boiled down to a single principle: life and death were decreed by fate, riches and honor belonged to heaven. Thrilling! The two brothers never expected that a single trip to headquarters would let them toy with this. Without hesitation, each grabbed a side of the cylinder with one hand and began shaking and rattling it vigorously. Fun, thrilling, and they wanted more! Until, with a sharp clatter, a single lot leaped out of the cylinder with pinpoint precision, landing on the table. The lot was crimson with a faint black undertone, causing both brothers to freeze for a moment before wincing. Crap! They'd had too much fun and accidentally piled pressure on that Ji kid, hadn't they? A lot of this color was usually the worst kind of all. An expedited commission with a strict deadline! And the most troublesome, hair-pulling kind at that... *[Shen-Yi; Chen-Liu]* An De moved like lightning, snatching it up to stuff it back in and shake again, only to be stopped cold by Yuan Xing's fierce glare. "You drew the lot, you take the task. What do you think you're doing?" "My form was off just now, it doesn't count," An De insisted loudly. "One more time!" "Are you kidding me? Ever since this rule existed in the Wild Gathering, I've never heard of anyone getting a redraw." Yuan Xing gave a stern warning, snatching the lot away. "Luck is part of strength. If you have a problem with it, feel free to take it up with the Chiefs." "Tsk, tsk, tsk, nothing we can do—we uncles did our best," An Neng said beside him, shrugging as he watched the lot carried off for deciphering. He shook his head with an emotional sigh. "Looks like the White Stag isn't backing you on this one, little brother." *** Three minutes later, the interpreted lot and the commission it represented were brought back up. In dead silence, the three of them looked down at the order sheet on the table, speechless for a long time. Then came laughter. An De and An Neng were thoroughly amused, while Yuan Xing was left entirely struck dumb, unable to speak or comprehend what had just happened. Even *this* works?! It was a massive procurement order from the Northern Realm, marked urgent and top-priority, seeking to purchase vast quantities of weapons, alchemy bullets, munitions, steel, and every manner of war materiel. They refused nothing—they wanted it all! Under normal circumstances, such a lucrative prize would have been snatched up the instant it appeared, never lingering around long enough to be tossed into a lot cylinder. Unfortunately, the northern city coalition currently at war with the Northern Realm had imposed a multi-layered naval blockade, alongside lobbying the Federation and Empire to enforce embargoes against the north... And most importantly, the Northern Realm was dead broke. Living in a frozen hellscape offered no comfort to speak of; just surviving was an achievement, so where were they supposed to scrape together spare cash? No matter how urgent the demand or how lavish the initial quote, everyone knew that in reality, they simply couldn't pay. Pushed to the brink, they could only settle payments in mineral resources, even offering ownership deeds to several rich ore veins as collateral... It sounded wonderful, but nobody could forget what kind of godforsaken place the Northern Realm's rich mineral zones actually were! The permafrost zone at the edge of the world, where minus a hundred degrees passed for summer and a man's tackle would freeze off in the time it took to take a leak. The mining difficulty was a nightmare among nightmares. Furthermore, once massive capital was sunk in, how output was produced and distributed would still be entirely at the Northern Realm's mercy. No one would touch a promised pie like that, even if it were shoved right into their mouth. Pure bad luck. Originally, the Wild Gathering wouldn't even have taken such an order, but the Northern Realm had its own channels and had posted it directly using Dragon Head privileges... casting a wide net on the off chance someone bit. And now, that "off chance" had arrived. Staring at the order, the three men scratched their heads, completely baffled... What kind of damn dog luck was this?! Could it really be that the White Stag had spoon-fed them lunch? A colossal order like this might be an impossible, insoluble headache for anyone else, but for the Seven Cities, what was it? A test, or a congratulatory gift? They were just getting ready to open their doors, and the Wild Gathering handed them a roaring grand opening? Previously, goods couldn't be sold there because the distance was too great, the channels too few, and their reach fell short... But now the Wild Gathering had filled in all the blanks, even thoughtfully preparing an alias to help Mr. Ji expand his business footprint. What were they waiting for, then? Just fucking do it! *** The trial from headquarters was accepted by Ling Shuo that very day. Right there on the spot, he pricked his finger, pressed a bloodied thumbprint, and signed a contract guaranteeing the first batch of deliveries within a month, agreeing upon the exact shipment quotas. The kicker was... the other side actually bought it! Upon receiving the contract, the Northern Realm took down the bounty on the spot and promptly handed over the agreed twenty-percent brokerage fee without the slightest delay. The deal was sealed! And so, a record-breaking event occurred: from application to approval, within twelve hours, the Seven Cities Wild Gathering completed its formal registration and establishment with unprecedented efficiency. Then, on the very first day of its founding, right within the Wild Gathering's internal network, the newly minted Dragon Head Ling Shuo made a massive show of submitting formal accusations against two other Wild Gathering branches to the Chiefs. Requesting the Chiefs' judgment! Thus, three hours later, the very same name appeared once more on the Chiefs' desks, leaving everyone hesitating to speak, utterly struck dumb. Again? Why is it you again?! Even Wei, who had kept a scowl plastered across his face the entire time, couldn't stop the corner of his mouth from twitching. "Well, damn... we really got ourselves a pot-stirrer, didn't we?" "Isn't that great?" Chen continued smiling, glancing at the written accusation with full admiration and not a shred of distaste. Stir it up, stir it up... It was restless spirits like you who were needed to stir up every last beast across the four seas and the eight wildlands! Shouldn't the prelude to the Great Strife be sparked by strife itself?