I tucked the photocopied Fishy-Scale Powder Refinement Manual I'd sorted through the night before into my bag and stood in front of the battered old wardrobe. The man in the mirror had shadows of exhaustion under his eyes, but his gaze was a damn sight brighter than it had been the day I lost my job. The spiritual energy of the Fifth Layer of Qi Refinement circulated slowly in my dantian, like warm water spreading through every inch of my body.

"System," I muttered at the bronze ring on my finger, "why does that blind old geezer want a sample of Spirit Spring water? Don't tell me he's trying to refine Fishy-Scale Powder himself?"

The ring grew faintly warm, and the elder's holographic projection flickered to life, cradling a bowl of virtual instant noodles. "Idiot! The old blind bastard ruined himself on Fishy-Scale Powder back in the day. He wants the sample so he can study how to counter it. You think everyone's as cracked as those lunatics over at Baizhen Pavilion?"

It clicked. Old Wang had mentioned the blind elder used to be with the Demon-Demon Suppression Bureau. So the old man had some old score to settle with Baizhen Pavilion — that saved me a fair bit of worry.

"Fair enough," I said, stuffing the manual into my canvas bag and double-checking the small glass vials inside. "I'm pretty sure there's still a stock of Spirit Spring water samples down at the waterworks underground base — assuming Baizhen Pavilion's people haven't smashed it all."

"Best pray they haven't set an ambush either," the elder said, slurping his noodles. "Baizhen Pavilion's got a bounty on your head right now like you're some rare spirit herb. Rogue cultivators under the Sixth Layer are practically circling your whole residential block."

I rolled my eyes and pushed open the balcony door. The morning wind bit with a cold edge and sent a shiver through me. Thinking back on the three Fifth-Layer assassins in the complex last night, I reached instinctively for the Wave-Breaker blade at my hip. The flat of it was icy, its water-ripple etchings catching the early light with a faint gleam — three nights of infusing it with spiritual energy since I'd broken through to the Fifth Layer had left their mark.

"Right, let's go. Here's hoping today doesn't throw up any more 'surprises.'" I murmured at the ring and slipped quietly out through the back window. The Boston ivy climbing the building had grown thick and lush — a perfectly natural elevator.

The waterworks wasn't far from the complex, twenty minutes by bike. But I didn't dare take the bike. Instead I wound through the back lanes on foot, periodically reaching out with spiritual energy to feel for movement around me. I passed the alley where I'd been jumped yesterday; the bloodstains had been hosed away by the cleaners, but something in the air still carried the ghost of an iron-fish smell.

As I neared the waterworks I slowed my pace. The rusted iron gate sat half-open, and the weeds around the entrance had grown noticeably taller since my last visit. I drew a deep breath, activated my Fifth-Layer spiritual energy, and sent it spreading outward like a spider's web.

Ding — two spiritual energy fluctuations detected thirty metres ahead, both early-stage Fifth Layer. One concealed presence also detected: mid-stage Sixth Layer!

The system alert rang through my mind like a claxon.

My stomach dropped. I cursed under my breath — Baizhen Pavilion was thorough, all right. A Sixth-Layer cultivator stationed here. They'd clearly anticipated I'd come back for the sample.

"Old man, any bright ideas?" I pressed myself behind a crumbling wall and peered around the corner. The waterworks yard was dead quiet. A few crows spiralled over the rusted pipework, their croaking calls making the place feel even more like a graveyard.

"Bright ideas?" The elder gave a scornful laugh. "You're like a fish on a chopping board right now, and you're asking for ideas? Just charge in — what else? Or how are you going to keep your end of the deal with the old blind bastard? Your wife and kids are still counting on your 'spiritual-energy grilled fish' to survive!"

"Oh, sod off!" I ground my teeth and tightened my grip on the meteoric iron cutting board. The dark-gold talisman inscriptions burned against my palm, lending me a scrap of courage. "It's just one Sixth Layer. It's not like I haven't gone up against someone at the waterworks before."

"That was because they weren't ready for you!" the elder snapped. "This time they're specifically waiting for you! Listen — when you charge in, open with Flowing Wave Slash to drive those two Fifth-Layers back, then get yourself to the underground base fast. There's a ventilation shaft down there, runs straight to the Spirit Spring water storage pool."

"A ventilation shaft?"

"Stop stalling!" the elder cut me off. "You keep dragging your feet and the Sixth-Layer cultivator will be on top of you!"

I hesitated no longer. I drew a sharp breath, burst out from behind the ruined wall, and swung the Wave-Breaker blade in the same motion.

"Flowing Wave Slash!"

A pale blue water-blade tore through the air and hurtled toward the shadowed corner to the left, carrying a razor-sharp force. Sure enough, two men in black jackets sprang out of the darkness, short blades raised in a block.

Boom!

The water-blade crashed against the short blades, scattering a spray of water in all directions. Both men staggered back, their arms going numb from the impact.

"Now!" the elder bellowed.

I seized the moment and sprinted for the central control tower, feet barely touching the ground. At Fifth Layer my speed had more than doubled from what it used to be. Behind me came the furious shouts of the two Fifth-Layer cultivators, and above them, a voice colder and heavier than either: "Don't let him get away!"

I didn't look back. I threw myself straight down through the entrance to the underground base. Inside was pitch black, thick with a cloying, fishy reek. I switched on my phone's flashlight and, following the elder's directions, quickly located the narrow ventilation shaft.

"Oh, come on." I stared at the shaft opening — thirty centimetres across at most. "Old man, are you actually sure I can squeeze into that?"

"Stop complaining!" There was a rare edge of urgency in the elder's voice. "They're almost on you! Do you know the Bone-Shrinking Technique? No? Then just force yourself in!"

I bit down, shoved my canvas bag in ahead of me, then crouched low and began working myself into the shaft inch by inch. The sound of fabric scraping against metal was jarring in the underground silence. I'd barely crawled a few metres when I heard footsteps and cursing behind me.

"What the — where'd he go?"

End of Chapter 26: The Fishy-Scale Powder Incident