She pulled the trigger. The bullet struck his thigh, punching through his supposedly reinforced Qi defense like paper. The moment it connected, his expression morphed from arrogance to sheer agony. He screamed, collapsing onto his side as blood seeped into the stone floor.
Emery blinked. "Zafira, WHAT THE FUCK!?"
She tilted her head, genuinely intrigued. "Huh. That's interesting."
"Interesting? You just shot him!" Callum gawked, kneeling beside the now-twitching captive, trying to stop the bleeding.
Zafira ignored him, crouching down beside her target.
"Your Qi reinforcement should have stopped that bullet. And yet…" She poked his shoulder with the tip of the gun, watching him flinch.
"It didn't."
Emery's eyes sharpened as he processed the implications. "Wait. Are you saying—"
Zafira nodded. "Your gun, Emery, doesn't just bypass standard Qi reinforcement—it weakens it. Not completely, but enough. I'd say the damage output is somewhere around a beginner level of raw force, maybe slightly more. But still enough to make cultivators bleed."
Emery scoffed, shaking his head. "Oh, right. Qi reinforcement. The mystical, all-powerful shield cultivators swear by. If it was so perfect, why does it keep failing when faced with actual physics?"
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.
"Theoretically, it should have absorbed the impact, redirected the kinetic energy, something. But no, here we are, watching reality prove them wrong."
He crouched beside the now-bleeding captive, observing the wound with a detached curiosity speaks to him in Chinese.
"你的所谓"气"并不神圣,它只是另一种能量场.而当一个物体移动得比你的强化反应更快时,会发生什么?(You see, your so-called 'Qi' isn't divine, it's just another energy field. And what happens when an object moves faster than your precious reinforcement can react?) He tapped the gun bullet hole. 很简单,就是这样. (It goes through. Simple as that.)
Zafira smirked, nudging the man with her boot.
"So much for being untouchable."
Callum, still holding a very injured and very much screaming captive, groaned.
"You're both fascinated by this?! Can we at least pretend to care that he's bleeding out?"
Emery let out a long, suffering sigh, rubbing his temples before rolling up his sleeves.
"Fine, fine. If you insist on interrupting my incredibly valuable research time…" He motioned to Callum.
"First, press down on the wound. Hard. If he bleeds out before I get a proper look, I'll personally make you test the next firearm."
Callum muttered something under his breath but obeyed, applying pressure as the captive winced and groaned in pain.
Emery turned to Zafira. "Cover his mouth. Tight. If he bites his tongue off from the pain, we lose a perfectly good test subject."
Zafira smirked but complied, shoving a cloth between the man's teeth before pressing a hand over his mouth to muffle his screams.
With practiced efficiency, Emery took out the bullet with his bare hands, though he made sure to wipe them thoroughly with a clean cloth first. The projectile was still warm from the shot, slick with blood. He inspected it for a moment before discarding it.
"No warping. Clean entry. Looks like the barrel design is holding up."
Callum gave him an incredulous look. "I meant what are you doing about him, not your damn gun."
Emery ignored him, already moving on to the next step. He grabbed a bottle of brandy from the nearby shelf, uncorked it, drank some and poured it directly onto the wound. The captive's entire body convulsed as a muffled scream tore from his throat.
Callum flinched. "What the hell, Emery?!"
Zafira, who had been watching with amusement, suddenly stiffened.
"Wait. Is that—was that my brandy?"
Emery barely glanced at her.
"Yes, and now it's a cleaning drink."
Zafira groaned, rubbing her temples. "That was a perfectly good bottle of expensive liquor! I was saving that!"
Emery scoffed. "Oh yes, forgive me for prioritizing stopping a man from dying over your own action and extravagant drinking habits. Next time, I'll let the wound rot and we can all enjoy a fine drink while watching him succumb to death. Very civilized."
Emery rolled his eyes, continuing. "Relax. It's called brandy but right now it's a cleaning agent. If I must I'll explain to you why I use it but unless you'd rather watch him die slowly from infection, in which case, by all means, continue questioning my methods."
Callum hesitated. "But—"
"Why alcohol?" Emery interrupted, cutting off the inevitable complaint.
"Simple. Whatever Qi nonsense he was relying on clearly failed him, which means he's as vulnerable to septic infection as anyone else. Alcohol should kill off any unseen germs." He scoffed.
"Of course, if people actually understood why things rot and fester, we wouldn't have to rely on superstitious nonsense like 'bad air' and 'angry spirits.'"
Zafira chuckled. "Always the skeptic."
Emery ignored her, reaching into a small crate filled with dried herbs.
"Callum, elevate his leg while I prepare the clotting agents."
Callum followed the order while Emery ground yarrow and mugwort between his fingers, crushing them into a fine paste before pressing it firmly into the wound.
"These should slow the bleeding and prevent further infection. At least, that's the theory."
"The theory?" Callum echoed, horrified.
"Oh, don't look at me like that. He's still alive, isn't he?" Emery grabbed a clean cloth and wrapped it tightly around the wound, binding it securely.
"There. Congratulations, he won't die immediately. Now, can I go back to my work?"
Callum, however, wasn't letting him off that easily.
"Wait. Hold on. You just did all of that like it was second nature. What exactly did you do?"
Emery sighed dramatically, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
"Are you seriously asking me to explain basic logic? Fine. You start by slowing the bleeding—which you did, surprisingly well, might I add. Next, you prevent infection, which is why I had to sacrifice Zafira's precious brandy to clean the wound."
He smirked at Zafira, who scowled at him. "Then, you elevate the limb to reduce blood flow and swelling. After that, you apply coagulants—hence the herbs. Finally, you wrap it up tightly to keep everything in place."
Callum blinked. "So… you just invented the first actual method for treating gunshot wounds?"
Emery scoffed. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. I didn't invent it—I just figured it out first. Big difference."
Meanwhile, as Emery unknowingly laid the foundation for modern battlefield medicine, Zafira casually retied the captive's bindings, her hands swift and efficient. She shoved him back into position, this time without the gun, leaning in with an easy smirk.
"Now that we've established you're not invincible, shall we continue?"
The captive, breathing heavily, suddenly shifted his gaze to Zafira, desperation flickering in his eyes.
"Please… I have a family." he pleaded.
"I did nothing wrong. I only wandered too far into your territory. I swear it!"
Zafira tilted her head, considering his words, but her expression remained unreadable.
"Wandering into my domain without permission is already unacceptable" she said flatly.
"But still… killing you outright does seem a little cruel."
She turned to Emery, a knowing smirk on her lips.
"What do you think? You're the genius here. What should we do with him?"
Callum, standing slightly apart from them, barely followed the conversation. His limited grasp of the language left him piecing together what little he understood. He recognized the shift in tone—the captive's desperate pleas, Zafira's amused but unreadable response, and the way Emery's name was thrown into the mix.
Great. They're debating his fate, and I have no clue what's being said.
He resisted the urge to ask for a translation, knowing full well that Emery would only roll his eyes and Zafira would make it worse with an exaggerated, overly dramatic version just to mess with him. Instead, he watched warily, waiting for some indication of whether they were about to execute the poor bastard or let him go.
Emery crossed his arms, eyeing the captive with a mix of annoyance and curiosity.
"You know martial arts, don't you?"
The man hesitated before nodding. "Yes… I've trained since childhood."
Emery scoffed. "Fantastic. Then tell me—how confident are you in explaining that whole 'Qi' nonsense to someone who actually uses his brain?"
The captive looked confused. "What?"
Zafira raised an eyebrow. "Emery, what are you getting at?"
Emery exhaled dramatically. "Simple. I want him to start a martial arts school. Not here. In the main city of Russia."
Emery continued "Business. If we establish a martial arts school in a major city, we gain local influence. The people will flock to something exotic and 'mystical.' That's human nature."
Zafira nodded in understanding. "And that means profits. New students, high fees, and if the demand grows, we can monopolize martial arts training in this region."
"Exactly" Emery confirmed.
"More than that, it expands our control over what information about Qi and combat is actually spread. Right now, it's all mythical nonsense—'cultivation this' and 'spiritual enlightenment that.' But if we teach it in a beginner-friendly way, it becomes accessible and structured."
Zafira grinned. "And unlike me trying to teach you, where you failed spectacularly, this guy can actually explain it properly."
Emery rolled his eyes. "Yes, because your version was essentially throwing me into a fight and saying, 'figure it out.' Hardly an education."
He turned back to the captive.
"So, congratulations. You're not going to die today. Instead, you're going to be a teacher."
The captive hesitated before blurting out, "What about my family?"
Zafira clicked her tongue. "Oh, now you remember them? Convenient."
She crossed her arms, glancing at Emery. "What do you think? Family reunion, or are we keeping this simple?"
Callum, still trying to catch up, finally interjected.
"Look, I don't understand half of what's going on, but if he has a family, sending him alone could be a problem. What if they come looking for him? Or worse, if someone else uses them against him?"
Zafira hummed in thought. "That's a fair point. If his family is still in Regime of Jin, then they're leverage waiting to happen."
Emery tapped his fingers against his arm. "Fine. Then the solution is simple. We verify. We find out exactly where his family is, if they're in any danger, and—" he turned to the captive, "—if they're worth the effort."
The captive stiffened as if understanding English screamed. "Of course they are!"
Zafira smirked. "We'll see. If they're in trouble, maybe we help. Maybe we don't. But if you're lying to us, well…" She gestured vaguely toward the bloodstained floor.
"I'm sure you can guess what happens next."
Callum sighed. "Why does every solution around here involve either money, leverage, or threats?"
Zafira grinned. "Because they work."
As if on cue, the door swung open again, and Seraphine strode back in, her expression one of barely contained amusement. Behind her, several figures followed—a woman and three younger individuals, two boys and a girl, all looking weary and travel-worn.
The captive's head snapped toward them, his eyes widening in shock. "Haoran!"
The woman gasped, rushing forward, only to be held back by Seraphine's men.
"Husband! Are you hurt? What have they done to you?"
Emery raised an eyebrow. "Well, that was fast. I see we're really embracing the 'efficiency' part of our organization."
The two boys, aged around fourteen and fifteen, looked worse for wear—bruises littering their arms and faces, evidence of a struggle. The girl, about twenty, held herself with quiet defiance, standing protectively in front of her mother.
Zafira whistled. "So, this is the family you were so worried about? You've got a wife, two sons who clearly don't know when to back down, and a daughter who looks like she's ready to stab me. Quite the group."
Haoran's breathing was ragged, his earlier bravado completely shattered as he stared at his family, equal parts relieved and terrified.
"They—they had nothing to do with this. They didn't even know I was here!"
Emery crouched down in front of the man, studying him with renewed curiosity.
"Interesting. But before we get all sentimental, let's address the real question here—"
He turned to the family. "Do any of you know science, math, martial arts, or, heaven forbid, 'Qi' bullshit?"
The family exchanged nervous glances. The two boys, still visibly bruised from whatever ordeal they had endured, shifted uncomfortably under Emery's stare. The daughter, despite the tension, squared her shoulders and spoke first.
"I know some math." she said cautiously. "My father taught me basic calculations for trade."
Emery nodded approvingly. "Not bad. And the boys?"
The younger one, Chen , hesitated before responding "We were trained in basic self-defense. Our father didn't want us to be helpless."
Haoran gritted his teeth. "I told them not to fight back. But they wouldn't listen."
"Obviously," Emery deadpanned, eyeing the bruises. "And you?" he directed at the older boy, Feng.
Feng lifted his chin. "I know how to use a staff."
Zafira smirked. "That's adorable. You planning to swat people away like flies?"
Feng bristled but held his tongue. Meanwhile, Emery tapped his fingers against his knee, clearly thinking.
"Alright, so we've got a merchant-in-training, two stubborn brats who don't know when to quit, and a father with just enough skill to get himself captured."
Haoran clenched his fists. "We are not useless."
"Good," Emery said, standing up and dusting off his shirt.
"Because I just decided we're keeping you."
The entire family stiffened.
Callum, who had been watching silently, raised a hand. "Uh, what?"
"Think about it" Emery said, gesturing toward them.
"We need an operational legal base in Russia, and what better way to establish control than with a family business? The father's got martial arts skills—he can teach. The daughter can handle finances or I can turn her into a new assistant. The boys can be trained further or I can use them. We have everything we need to open a school and control local trade."
Zafira folded her arms, intrigued.
"It does solve a lot of logistical problems. No need to bring in outsiders. We train them, we own them."
Haoran's wife, Renshu, stepped forward at last, glaring at them all. "And if we refuse?"
Emery raised an eyebrow. "Then you can go back to whatever life you had before. But considering your situation, I'd say this is the best deal you're going to get."
Zafira, the Queen of the Underworld, let out a dramatic sigh and slowly pulled out the firearm. She turned it in her hands, letting the metal gleam in the dim light.
"This," she said casually, "is what hurt your father."
The family tensed, their eyes flickering between the weapon and Haoran, whose expression darkened.
Renshu's lips pressed into a thin line. "You expect us to believe that? That little thing did what even blades and arrows can't?"
Zafira rolled her eyes. "Why does everyone want to keep testing me?"
Without hesitation, she aimed the gun and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into the stone floor—inches from Renshu's feet.
The sharp crack of the shot echoed through the room, the impact sending dust and shards of rock flying. Renshu and the children staggered back, their bravado cracking instantly.
The room fell silent.
Feng, the eldest son, swallowed hard, eyes wide. "That… that wasn't a normal weapon."
Zafira smirked, spinning the gun around her finger before holstering it. "Now you're starting to understand."
She gestured toward Haoran.
''Your father thought he was untouchable. That little 'trinket' proved otherwise. So, let's not waste time pretending you have a choice here."
Renshu pulled her children close, breathing heavily. "What… what do you want from us?"
Renshu hesitated, looking at her sons, then at her husband. The unspoken truth hung in the air—this was not a negotiation. It was an ultimatum.
Finally, Haoran exhaled. "What do you want us to do?"
Emery grinned. "Glad you asked. We're going to turn you into something useful."