"I know that you know who I am," said Ondira, her voice laced with restrained fury behind the porcelain mask.
Kazel's lips curved slightly as he kept his back to her. "And I know that you know that I know who you are, just as well as you know who I am."
Ondira blinked. For a brief second, she faltered—caught off guard by the sheer pettiness of his wordplay. But she shook it off quickly, straightening her back as the last trace of hesitation left her stance. "You stole something from me."
Kazel turned. Slowly. And there it was—the smile. That damnable smile. Like a mischievous prince who knew exactly which knife he'd used and where he left it.
"'Stealing' is not a nice word," he said casually, his robe fluttering slightly with the motion, the one-shoulder cape settling over his arm like a draped flag of arrogance.
"I have no other word that better suits you."
The onlookers stirred in place. Whispering. Shifting. Breathing too carefully. The energy in the room had shifted from curiosity to a pressure that settled deep in their lungs. Even the merchant, who had already counted a mountain of spirit stones, stopped mid-fidget.
Jin Shui raised a brow, arms crossed. (So the Sect Slayer's got a past with her, huh... and it's personal.)
Kazel gave a noncommittal shrug, as if this kind of confrontation was as casual as asking for tea.
"You owe me, kid," Ondira said, voice colder now, layered with resentment and something else—wounded pride.
"True," Kazel nodded, his expression cooling just enough to show he wasn't mocking her. "Without you, the story of me slaying those two sects would've gone differently."
He let that sit for a moment. Let it breathe in the silence.
"Or should I say… more traditionally."
There was no flex in his tone. No flourish. Just truth—sharp and deliberate.
Because whether he had Shishi with him that day or not, the end would've been the same. Blood spilled. Stones shattered. The Rising Stone Sect would have crumbled under his foot regardless. It just so happened that fate had handed him a shortcut. And part of that shortcut… wore a mask and stood right in front of him.
The crowd leaned in ever so slightly, tension thick enough to bottle.
"So this is the best the Land of the Lamb has to offer?"
A voice laced with disdain cut through the tension, drawing all eyes toward the stairwell—everyone's except two.
Kazel and Ondira stood face to face, their silent duel of gazes undisturbed by the interruption. It was the others who turned, parted, and gawked.
Descending the stairs with practiced arrogance was a slender young man clad in black robes trimmed with silver. His chin tilted upward, as though the ceiling deserved more attention than the people beneath it. Fair-skinned and sharp-featured, his thin mustache gave him an air of nobility—or pretension, depending on who you asked. His hands were clasped behind his back, and every step he took seemed like he expected the floor to thank him for the honor.
Beside him walked an elder—plain-faced, unremarkable in build but with an air of quiet force that gave pause to the trained eye.
Jin Shui narrowed his eyes. (That pompous look... that stupid mustache... That's—)
"It's the Young Master of the Second Moon, Agabah!" someone whispered, and the murmurs quickly rippled through the crowd.
Agabah's eyes skimmed the floor with disinterest—until he caught sight of the stir at its center. A boy with a Soul Nut glowing blue mist in hand… and a masked woman standing far too close. His brows rose ever so slightly, then drew together in a smirk.
He approached. "Hey, you."
Kazel didn't even bother to glance his way. His gaze remained locked with Ondira's. "So," he said casually, "what is it you want?"
A wave of shocked silence hit the floor. A few jaws dropped. Even the merchant leaned forward with a bead of sweat on his brow.
(He's insane,) thought Jin Shui, stunned. (That's Agabah, man. Even Wu Rong gives him space.)
"You'll have to pay," Ondira said, voice level. "For what you took. Equal value."
"You want spirit stones?" Kazel asked, still nonchalant. "So you can gamble again?"
"That's none of your business," she replied with a scoff. "Besides, with your reputation… I believe I'll accept a more interesting form of payment."
Kazel raised an eyebrow, but she turned her back to him. "Until then."
"You think you can find me?"
Ondira didn't even turn around. "Don't sell yourself too high. I can find you whenever I want."
Her cloak brushed his as she left, leaving nothing but mystery in her wake.
Once she was gone, Agabah finally inserted himself again. "How much for the Soul Nut in your hand?" he asked, stepping into Kazel's path.
But Kazel, instead of answering, yawned. Actually yawned. Then walked away.
"Hey, I said stop right there!" barked Agabah, pointing like a prince giving orders to a stablehand.
This time the elder moved, cutting Kazel off with a wide stance. "The Young Master has made a request. You will comply."
Kazel paused—just long enough to feel the air thicken. But he didn't even look at the elder. He simply stepped around him and continued toward the stairs without missing a beat.
Halfway up, he stopped.
He turned his head ever so slightly, just enough for his voice to carry.
"So many flies buzzing today…" he muttered, "...I guess I'll have to tell Wu Rong about this."
A collective gasp swept the floor.
"F-Flies?" someone whispered.
"He didn't—did he just—?"
Jin Shui clutched his mouth with both hands, shoulders trembling with restrained laughter. (No way. No way. He just called Agabah… a fly?)
Agabah's face turned redder than a crushed spirit stone. The elder beside him stood frozen, his jaw tight with fury.
And Kazel?
He ascended the stairs, slow and easy, like a man who hadn't just slapped a hornet's nest.
Agabah's teeth ground together as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His face twisted—red with humiliation, white with rage. That one word—flies—rang in his head like a gong, louder than any insult he'd ever received.
How dare that nobody... that brat from the Immortal Sect... talk down to him?
With fury bubbling past his restraint, he took a hard step forward. A ripple of raw hostility burst from him, his aura flaring with violent intent. The pressure turned heavy, stifling, a choking haze of malice rolling across the second floor like storm clouds.
Cultivators in the crowd instinctively stepped back. Some even gripped their weapons.
But before Agabah could take another step, a hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
"Young Master."
The elder's voice was sharp, low, and calm—but there was an unspoken warning in it.
Agabah's eyes snapped to him. "Let go," he hissed.
But the elder's grip tightened.
"You will not create a ruckus in the Jade Basin."
The words struck like a cold slap. Even Agabah had to pause, jaw trembling.
"This place is under Wu Rong's watch," the elder added, his tone firm. "What you do outside these walls is your choice. But inside... we do not offend the host."
The fury in Agabah's eyes burned—hot enough to blister—but he was forced to relent. He jerked his shoulder away and turned, cape snapping angrily behind him.
Kazel was gone from sight, but the sting of his presence lingered like a slap that refused to fade.
Agabah looked up toward the stairs, his fists trembling.
"Enjoy your climb, brat…" he muttered under his breath. "It won't last long."