He returned to the Li Estate through a lesser-used servant's gate, a ghost still dripping with river water.
Every muscle in his new body ached with a deep, bone-bruising cold. He hid the tremor in his hands by clenching them into fists, the dampness of his sleeves clinging to his skin.
There was no time to find his quarters, no time to process the assassination attempt.
A stern-faced servant was already waiting in the shadows of the corridor. "Young Master Xian, the Patriarch summons you to the Ancestral Hall Immediately."
The servant's gaze flickered over Li Xian's soaked clothes and pale face, but his expression remained a mask of duty.
Walking through the silent, stone-paved courtyards felt like a funeral procession. The air was heavy, still. Lanterns hung unlit, and the usual evening bustle was gone. The entire estate seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the family to officially choose a corpse.
The servant pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the hall.
Every eye inside turned to him, sharp with judgment.
The Ancestral Hall was cavernous, its high ceilings swallowing the light from the dozen oil lamps.
At the head of the room sat his father, Li Rong, the Patriarch of the Li family's river branch. His face was a mask of cold pragmatism, his gaze like chips of ice.
"The Yunhai Merchant Guild has suspended our shipping contract," Li Rong announced, his voice echoing in the unnerving silence. "A full barge of spirit-silk vanished from our docks tonight. The River Gate Sect has also doubled its protection levy, effective tomorrow."
He spoke of disaster as if reading a ledger. Li Xian was a variable in an equation, a potential loss to be calculated and mitigated.
Across the hall, his half-brother, Li Tian, watched with a faint, predatory smile. His faction of cousins and loyal stewards mirrored his expression.
They were vultures, enjoying the scent of a fresh carcass.
Li Xian walked to the center of the room and bowed deeply. "Father."
His mind was a whirl of calculations, mapping the room's political landscape.
He noted the steward who refused to meet his gaze, the uncle who subtly nodded at Li Tian, the way the guards were positioned closer to his half-brother's side of the hall.
The Patriarch's eyes narrowed. "Explain the missing barge."
Li Xian kept his expression placid, his voice steady. "I cannot. I was not on duty at the docks tonight."
He offered no excuses. He made no accusations. He simply stated a fact, a clean line of data that offered no purchase for attack.
Li Rong's fingers tapped once on the armrest of his ornate chair. "Regardless. The loss occurred under our family's watch. You will oversee a full audit of the warehouse ledgers and coordinate the recovery efforts."
A murmur went through the room. It was an impossible task.
"You have three days," the Patriarch concluded. "Succeed, and you will have proven your competence. Fail, and you will be handled accordingly."
The threat was veiled in the language of business, but its meaning was absolute.
Li Tian's smile widened, all but confirming his involvement. This was the plan. A public, impossible task that would justify Li Xian's removal.
Li Xian bowed again, his movement crisp and immediate.
"Understood, Father."
A woman seated near the Patriarch, her robes finer than even Li Rong's, spoke up. Her name was Lady Qin, Li Tian's mother and the official first wife.
"Patriarch," she said, her voice smooth as poisoned honey. "With such losses, we must consider immediate cost-cutting measures. The western courtyard, for instance, is far too lavish for a mere concubine."
Every head turned toward the implication. The western courtyard was where Li Xian's mother, Lady Yu Yan, resided.
"Perhaps we should reassign her servants," Lady Qin continued, a thoughtful frown on her face. "And the guards… surely they are needed for more important duties, like protecting our remaining assets."
The message was clear. When you fail, your mother will be left with nothing. We can erase her without anyone noticing.
Li Xian met her gaze, his own expression one of mild deference. "Lady Qin's concern for the family's finances is admirable."
He logged the threat, filed her name away. A future problem that would require a permanent solution.
She gave a tight, satisfied smile. "A concubine should know her place. As should her son."
As the assembly was dismissed, a man intercepted Li Xian before he could leave the hall.
It was Steward Zhao, a senior manager in the Li household and a known sycophant of Li Tian.
"Young Master Xian," the steward said, his smile oily and wide. "A difficult task the Patriarch has given you. Please, allow me to assist. I can grant you full access to the records and guide you through the proper procedures."
The offer was too quick, too helpful. Li Xian saw the truth instantly.
This was not a guide but a warden. Zhao was being assigned to watch him, to ensure he found nothing, to guarantee his failure.
Zhao leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The family is watching, Young Master. Don't make any… mistakes."
The steward's smile was a death threat. You won't survive three days.
...
He found his mother in a side corridor, seemingly waiting for him.
Lady Yu Yan's face was as cold and beautiful as ever, a mask of aristocratic indifference she had perfected over years of navigating the treacherous currents of the Li family.
Her eyes, however, betrayed her. They darted to his still-damp cuffs, the faint bruising on his cheek he had tried to hide.
She saw the truth of his night in the river.
Wordlessly, she pressed a small, cold object into his palm. It was a key, fashioned from dark, unfamiliar metal and sealed with a wax charm.
"The old apothecary in the south market," she said, her voice a low, urgent whisper. "There is a chest under the floorboards of the back room. If they come for me… you go there and open it. Promise me."
Her composure was a fragile shell over a core of pure terror.
Li Xian closed his hand around the key, its sharp edges digging into his skin. He didn't offer empty reassurances or heroic boasts.
He simply looked into her frightened eyes and made a promise. "I won't let them touch you."
Walking back toward his own small courtyard, Li Xian finally let a smile touch his lips. It was a cold, humorless thing.
The audit was a sham. The missing barge was just a pretext.
This was never about money or competence. It was about creating a clean, justifiable reason to execute him and neutralize his mother, severing a minor bloodline that had become an inconvenience.
He was Li Xian, the hacker. But he was also Li Xian, a disposable son. He did not know how it happen and he did not care. He only got one thing in mind, the upcoming storm.
Three days was not a task.
It was an execution schedule.