The great marble doors of the Eternal Night Mansion's administrative hall opened with a low creak, spilling a faint perfume into the air.

Mo Han stepped inside with Jia Kai, Chi Kai and Fatty Lambu behind him. The hall was large, lined with silk banners and painted murals of pairs of men and women locked in pleasure combat. The incense haze made the place feel like both a temple and a brothel.

At the far end, on a jade dais, sat a plump elder lady with heavy rouge on her cheeks and lips painted the color of ripe cherries. Gold ornaments jingled in her hair with every movement, and her long, claw-like nails tapped against the table as if she owned the time of everyone who entered.

Her eyes swept over the group lazily before settling on Mo Han, widening slightly when she saw the letter he held forward.

"Recommendation letter," Mo Han said calmly, presenting it with both hands.

The woman leaned forward, her painted lips curling as she broke the seal and skimmed the contents. The moment her eyes passed the words Pink Blossom Tree Sect, her expression shifted—stiff at first, then sour, like she had just bitten into a lemon. She let the parchment roll loosely back together and tossed it on the table with a flick of her fingers.

"Leave it," she said impatiently, waving her jeweled hand as though shooing away flies. "Return after two days. The elders will decide."

Mo Han frowned. "Two days?" His tone remained respectful, but his eyes were sharp. "Does recruitment not involve an entrance test? Or at least an overseer? Who decides which disciples qualify?"

The elder lady's painted eyes narrowed. "No test," she replied, tapping her long nails on the armrest of her chair. "The thirteen elders will decide. They take who they like. They reject who they dislike. That is all. Do not waste my time with unnecessary questions."

The impatience in her voice was obvious, but what struck Mo Han more was the change in her face—the stiffness when she saw the Pink Blossom Tree name, the forced carelessness afterward. His instincts whispered of hidden games. He studied her quietly, but he knew better than to push here.

"I see," he said flatly, bowing his head just enough to keep the act of respect. "Then I will return."

The lady waved them off again without even raising her eyes.

Outside the hall, Jia Kai frowned, her hands tightening behind her back. "She changed the moment she saw the sect name. Just like my mother said… someone is meddling."

Mo Han's lips curved in the barest hint of a smile. "Exactly. But we will not wait two days like obedient dogs. Let's walk the city instead. Sometimes streets reveal more secrets."

Fatty Lambu's stomach growled audibly, but he forced a grin. "If the streets have food, then yes, I also want to… investigate."

-

Golden Silk City…

The trio moved from street to street, their spirit crane resting discreetly in a rented stable at the city edge, the mountain eagle resting nearby.

The city is filled with silk shops draped with fabrics so thin they were nearly invisible, jewelers calling out deals, alchemists boasting about pills to "increase vitality for seven nights straight."

But the most striking were the pleasure houses. On almost every corner, painted women leaned from balconies, tossing silk-handkerchiefs at passing men. Eunuchs with smooth, waxed-faces called out in high-pitched voices, some even grabbing at robes, shoving paintings of voluptuous women into people's hands.

"Brother Han!" Fatty hissed, tugging at Mo Han's sleeve, his round face red as he tried to push away an eunuch who was thrusting a silk scroll at him. "Look—look at this filth! She's not even wearing pants! Pants! Why would anyone paint such a thing?!"

The eunuch gave a sly grin. "Big brother, she doesn't need pants. She only needs you. Come, thirty spirit stones and she will drain all your worries!"

Fatty yelped and stumbled backward, hiding behind Mo Han. "No, no, I have enough worries, thank you!"

Jia Kai smirked faintly, her mask concealing the rest of her expression. Mo Han shook his head but said nothing, simply pulling Fatty along.

After wandering a while, they stopped at a quieter street lined with craftsmen. An old man sat cross-legged before a humble stall, sewing embroidered capes under a lantern's glow. His fingers were swift, but his eyes sharp, scanning the streets more than his needle.

Mo Han crouched before him, picking up a cape. "Your stitching is fine. How much?"

The old man glanced at him, then at the quiet young women behind him, and leaned closer. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Keep your money. Take my words instead. This city eats newcomers."

Mo Han's gaze sharpened. "Thank you for your suggestion, elder. Can you tell me about this city? I am really new to this place." Mo Han asked in a polite tone.

The old man's fingers never stopped moving. "The four great families control the trade. Silk, jade, medicine, food. They are rich beyond measure. Yet even they cannot rule this city, because the Eternal Night Mansion holds their heirs in their palms." His voice thinned into a rasp. "They seduce them, bind them, drain them. The families curse the Mansion by day and crawl to them by night."

Jia Kai exchanged a look with Mo Han, then asked softly, "And the people? What do they think?"

The old man snorted. "What do people think when they are drunk on wine and women? They think nothing. They curse, they beg, they spend. Everyone has an opinion, but no one has the will. Even I…" His voice cracked, and for a moment, his gaze went far away. "…Even I once lost a daughter to them. She was taken in for 'training.' She never returned."

He bent his head and stitched harder, as if trying to sew his grief into silence.

Mo Han stood, his eyes darker than before. "Thank you," he said, laying three spirit stones quietly on the cloth. The old man tried to refuse, but Mo Han's expression brooked no debate.

As they walked away, Fatty whispered, "Brother Han… that old man's words sounded… like a warning."

"They were," Mo Han said, his tone like cold iron.