Heavenly Workshop: Iron Lord of the Cultivation Wastes

Lan Yueru's hands were as still as porcelain, folded perfectly in her lap as she sat across from Jiang Ye in the manor's western tea pavilion. Outside, the plum blossoms had begun to bloom—a week early, carried by the artificial warmth of an underground furnace node he'd ordered reactivated days ago.

Another quiet blasphemy.

Yueru glanced at the tree through the veil of steam rising from her teacup.

"Do plum blossoms bloom this early in Fangyan?"

"They do now," Jiang Ye said flatly, not bothering to sip. "I decided winter had overstayed its welcome."

Her lips twitched—not quite a smile, but a shift. Measured. Thoughtful.

"You control the seasons, then?"

"I control what grows in my garden," he said. "Including weeds. Including snakes. Including flowers I might someday pick or burn, depending on how they bloom."

Lan Yueru didn't blink. Instead, she leaned forward slightly, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

"I've heard you prefer fire to pruning."

"I prefer permanence."

"And what about beauty?"

"If it doesn't serve, it decays."

She studied him.

"You speak like a man who believes himself a god."

Jiang Ye tilted his head.

"No," he said. "Gods still ask for worship. I demand obedience."

The silence that followed was thick, nearly sacred.

Then she smiled. Genuinely, this time.

"And here I was worried you'd be charming."

"I'm not here to charm you, Lady Lan. I'm here to measure whether you're an asset or a liability. You're graceful. Clever. Politically trained. You wear white like a symbol, not a truth. So let's not waste each other's time with courtship games. If you plan to bind your family to mine, do so. If you plan to spy for your father, understand you'll be dead before your message reaches Stonewell."

"And if I plan to do both?" she asked sweetly.

Jiang Ye's smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Then I'll marry you anyway. And let you live. But you'll never know if I love you or if I'm simply using you as bait for the next move."

Lan Yueru exhaled slowly. "You're not playing a game."

"I'm writing the rules."

Beneath the hills behind the manor, gears whispered.

The Qi-Leech Refinery Node was no larger than a cartwheel, embedded deep within the stone, hidden beneath a lattice of false spiritual pulses. Its outer casing pulsed gently with dark gold light, spiritual filaments snaking outward like roots.

"Initiation complete," the Sentinel whispered. "Ambient qi in Sector 1A now rerouting through artificial veins. Collection efficiency at 38%. Estimated depletion of natural qi equilibrium within five days."

Jiang Ye didn't flinch.

He stared at the shifting runes as they sapped the air like invisible leeches, devouring spiritual flow that had long fed lazy cultivators and moss-eating outer sect rats.

"Warning," the Sentinel added. "This alteration will be noticed by cultivators attuned to natural flows."

"Let them notice," Jiang Ye replied. "Let them weep. Let them scream. Let them pray."

"Acknowledged."

He turned away.

Phase one was complete.

Let the drought begin.

He was halfway through reviewing the new armor schematics when the second envoy arrived.

Not at the gates.

Inside the manor.

The guards didn't stop him. Mostly because they didn't see him arrive.

He wore no sect robes. No house colors. Only a plain black mantle with silver-threaded cuffs and a jade talisman hanging from a bone clasp at his neck.

He stood inside the study like he owned the air.

Jiang Ye didn't rise from his seat behind the war table.

"I don't entertain ghosts without appointments," he said.

The man inclined his head. His voice was pleasant. Smooth. Educated.

"I come from the Everlight Pavilion Sect. I bring no threat."

"Then bring coin," Jiang Ye said, "or get out."

A flicker of amusement crossed the man's face. "We've been watching your territory. And your… workshops."

"Then you've been squinting."

"You've created disturbance, Lord Jiang. Leyline irregularities. Market rumors. Three arms dealers in the region have shifted their routes."

Jiang Ye leaned back.

"Speak plainly. Or I'll feed your bones to Meixue's war pigs."

"I come with an offer," the man said. "The Pavilion is neutral. We support innovation. We're not like the Hidden Edge or the Skybreaking Fist Sect."

"You're leeches. All of you."

"We're buyers."

That made Jiang Ye pause.

"Oh?" he said, voice dangerous. "And what do you think I'm selling?"

The man reached into his sleeve and drew a token—gray crystal etched with a spiral of concentric runes.

"A license," he said. "To operate. Discreetly. With our blessing."

Jiang Ye stared at the token.

Then he stood.

Walked around the table.

And slapped the token out of the man's hand.

It shattered against the floor.

"I am not a merchant," Jiang Ye said, voice low and venomous. "I do not buy survival with favors. I do not lease my ambition. And I will not bend to insects who only now smell blood in the wind."

The envoy didn't move.

"Refuse us," he said calmly, "and the next visitor may bring war."

Jiang Ye leaned in, close.

"Let them," he said. "I have a machine that eats qi, an army of starving men I've fed with purpose, and a forge that dreams of heaven's bones. If your next visitor comes with war, I'll bury their heart beneath my garden."

The envoy bowed.

And vanished.

Jiang Ye turned to the Sentinel.

"Activate armor blueprint: Hellsteel Frame Mk. I. Begin forging sequence. We'll wear skin the gods envy."

"Confirmed. Estimated forge time: 72 hours."

That night, Jiang Ye returned to the pavilion garden.

Lan Yueru was still there.

Alone. Playing a guqin. Poorly.

She looked up.

"You're late."

"I was arguing with a corpse."

She smirked. "Did you win?"

"I taught him humility."

She set the instrument aside.

"I've made a decision," she said. "About your proposal."

"Oh?"

"I'll stay."

"Because you trust me?"

"Because I don't."

He stepped forward.

She stood.

Their silhouettes met in the moonlight.

"Then let's see," he said softly, "who betrays whom first."

She smiled.

And they kissed—not tender, not passionate, but like a contract sealed in venom and silk.

A kiss between wolves.