The towering stone gates of Shrouded Peaks loomed before them, their surface weathered with age yet no less imposing. Beyond them, the hidden sect remained silent, watching, waiting. What wasn't silent, however, were the spears pointed at their throats.
Jiang and Bao had already moved into defensive stances, their hands hovering over their weapons. The guards of Shrouded Peaks, clad in dark gray robes and polished armour, held their ground, unmoving, their eyes sharp and unreadable.
Yuxe Wuye, Meilin's mother exhaled slowly, her hands folded before her in a gesture of negotiation rather than submission.
"We are not here to fight" she stated evenly, her voice carrying an air of authority that only a woman of her wisdom could possess.
"We seek an audience with Master Daokan. The child in our care needs urgent help."
One of the guards narrowed his eyes.
"Master Daokan does not take unannounced visitors. Especially not ones who bring unconscious prisoners with them."
Atlas groaned, stirring slightly. He was awake now, though his head still ached from Jiang's less then gentle method of securing his arrival. He barely had time to process his surroundings before he realized he was being held in a side embrace by Meyu, who, despite the tension, was calmly explaining the situation.
"Try not to move too much" she whispered, keeping her voice low.
"You got knocked out. We're at the gates of a hidden sect, and if you so much as twitch wrong, you might end up with a spear through your chest."
Atlas took a slow, measured breath, his mind kicking into gear.
Assess. Plan. Execute.
He scanned the scene, analyzing the guards' postures, the tension in their grips, the way their gazes flickered with hesitation.
They weren't looking for a fight—they were following protocol.
A plan formed in his mind, one that required precision and just the right amount of theatrical absurdity.
He reached into his coat, slowly so as not to provoke a reaction, and retrieved a document sealed with an imperial insignia. It was his business license and trading approval—one that had indeed been signed by the Emperor himself. What it did not state, however, was that his approval was strictly for commercial endeavours.
Atlas straightened his posture, flashing his most dazzling smile as he presented the document with a flourish.
"Gentlemen! I come bearing the Emperor's own decree!" he declared, letting the golden insignia catch the sunlight in just the right way.
"I am a humble—nay, an essential—merchant, officially approved by the highest seat of power. You may verify its authenticity if you wish, though I must warn you... the bureaucratic process is agonizing. Do you really wish to be the ones to delay a man personally sanctioned by the Emperor?"
He tilted his head, feigning sympathy.
"Paperwork. So tedious. So extensive. Do you really want to be the poor souls tangled in that mess?"
The guards faltered, exchanging glances. Atlas seized the hesitation and leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
"You see, the Emperor—wise, benevolent, extraordinarily handsome—values efficiency. And I, dear sirs, am nothing if not an efficient man. I have goods to trade, coins to spend, and if we keep this moving smoothly, I assure you, my gratitude knows no bounds."
With a grin stretching across his face like a devil who had just found an unguarded prey, Atlas smoothly reached into his pocket and revealed several gleaming gold coins, letting them slip between his fingers in a mesmerizing display of wealth. The coins clinked softly, their unmistakable weight promising lucrative opportunities. His expression—a mix of overconfidence and charm—only solidified the illusion that he was the most reasonable, yet dangerous, man to refuse.
Hook set. Now, to let them fight among themselves.
One of them whispered something hurriedly to the other. The moment of uncertainty spread like wildfire. If there was even a fraction of truth to what Atlas had said, denying him entry could mean defying imperial authority.
Meanwhile, Layla's sharp eyes followed the exchange. She was already planning her own angle.
She glanced at Bao, then at the guards, then back at Bao again.
Yes... that could work.
She cleared her throat loudly, adjusting her posture in an almost theatrical manner—one she had clearly picked up from watching Atlas. She even mimicked the exaggerated confidence in his expression, though her smirk had an extra edge of mischief.
"I see how it is!" she called out, voice full of melodrama.
"You refuse us entry because you're afraid! Afraid that Master Daokan will hear what I have to say!" She lifted her chin, placing a dramatic hand over her chest, as if genuinely appalled by their cowardice.
Several of the guards stiffened, their expressions shifting between confusion and irritation.
Layla pressed on, arms crossed, one eyebrow arching.
"If Master Daokan were here, would he turn away someone in need? Would he refuse to hear why a disciple of the Silver Lotus Sect has come all this way seeking help over a sick child? Or are you too afraid to even let him decide for himself?"
Bao, catching on to her play, scoffed, crossing his arms and shaking his head in mock disappointment.
"You know what? Maybe Master Daokan really isn't as great as people say. If his own disciples are too cowardly to even let a message reach him, then perhaps he's not worth the journey after all."
The guards bristled, but one turned and rushed into the sect to report.
A silence stretched before the air itself seemed to bend. A crushing force, unseen yet undeniable, pressed down upon them. An order without words. A demand from existence itself.
Atlas felt the wind started to pickup and then Meyu whimpered beside him, her body trembling as she barely managed to keep herself from falling completely. Meyu fell onto her knees, fear widening her eyes as tremors wracked her frame, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
Jiang gritted his teeth, his entire body trembling as his knees buckled. Bao swayed but caught himself, breath laboured. Yuxe Wuye hands curled into fists, sweat dripping from her brow as she struggled to remain upright. Lin Wuye never let go of the child, shielding her as best he could, his arms tightening around her small frame even as his bones protested against the overwhelming force.
Layla gasped, the sheer weight of it unlike anything she had ever felt.
How... how can one man exude such pressure?
Her body screamed, her mind raced, yet all she could think of was the absurdity of human strength reaching such a level.
This isn't Qi. This is something beyond it. Fear curled in her gut, primal and unavoidable.
Atlas, however, did not kneel.
Master Daokan stepped through the now-open gates, his robes billowing like a storm given form. Beside him stood his most trusted disciple, Yan Shuren, a warrior whose presence alone commanded respect, his skill second only to Daokan himself.
Daokan's gaze swept over them before locking onto Atlas. Scanning his internal self as to why he wasn't affected.
Could it be..?
A flicker of disbelief crossed his face.
No Qi. None. Even newborns have Qi. And yet, this man stands.
His voice, when it came, was quiet but impossible to ignore.
"Tell me, merchant… do you truly believe the Emperor's name alone grants you entry into my domain?"
The weight of Daokan's presence still hung over them like a storm waiting to break. Atlas, standing alone amid a sea of kneeling bodies, took in the scene with a keen eye. His mind worked in rapid succession, piecing together every clue, every reaction.
This is Master Daokan. The infamous recluse of the Shrouded Peaks. The man even warlords spoke of in hushed tones. And here he was, radiating an oppressive aura so strong it forced battle-hardened warriors to their knees.
Atlas blinked, then turned his head slightly, taking in the absurdity of the scene. Jiang, Bao, Lin Wuye—all kneeling like devout disciples at temple. Layla looked on the verge of collapsing, her entire body shaking from the sheer pressure. And Meyu—Meyu had fallen completely, fear etched into her usually composed features, her hands digging into the dirt as if grounding herself was the only thing keeping her sane. He managed to assess the situation in just 5 seconds and came up with a plan to convince Master Daokan albeit a gamble.
A slow exhale left his lips. Right. This was bad.
Atlas straightened, adjusting his collar in an exaggerated, almost leisurely manner. His mind raced. This was a delicate game, and one misstep could have him buried at the base of these mountains. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself a little. He knows that they value honour, respect, wealth and strength.
He clasped his hands behind his back and offered Daokan the most respectful bow he could muster—low enough to show deference, but not so low as to appear desperate.
"Master Daokan, I presume? An honor, truly. I must say, your reputation does you justice. The sheer power, the presence! Why, if I didn't know better, I'd think I had just met a deity in human form."
A twitch of an eyebrow from Daokan in disbelief.
Good. He was listening.
Atlas continued, voice smooth and measured.
"Now, I understand your concern. A mere merchant, tossing around the Emperor's name like a common dice game—it's terribly improper, isn't it? But let me assure you, I am not just any merchant. I am a merchant with an impeccable sense of timing and an even greater appreciation for... opportunities."
He let the words settle, watching Daokan's expression. Calculating. Weighing. Testing.
Atlas lifted a hand and gestured lightly to the others still kneeling.
"And, if I may be so bold, it would be quite the tragedy if such esteemed guests of the Silver Lotus Sect were to pass out here in the cold, wouldn't it? But not just any guests—an innocent slave child, fragile and barely clinging to consciousness, dragged all this way for a sliver of mercy."
His eyes flicked briefly to Layla, who, despite her trembling form, still held her head high. A slow, almost pitying smile curved his lips.
"And her. This ever-so-frail girl, shaking in her boots yet still clinging to her pride like a lifeline. Really, Master Daokan, what would it say of the great Shrouded Peaks if you left such helpless souls out here to suffer?"
He sighed dramatically. "A true tragedy, I say."
Layla grit her teeth, her mind whirling with equal parts irritation and reluctant admiration. Atlas was infuriating—slick, shameless, and somehow always in control. But damn it, he was effective. That didn't mean she wouldn't kick him for this later. Hard.
There was a beat of silence.
Daokan's disciple shifted slightly, clearly unimpressed. But Daokan himself merely exhaled, his sharp gaze never leaving Atlas.
Atlas knew he had only seconds before the humour turned against him. He adjusted his stance, lowering his voice slightly, making it more serious.
"Master Daokan, I am not here to disrespect your gates. In fact quite the opposite. I am here on business, and business is what I do best. But right now even before my own livelihood, that poor child life matters more. There are things I can offer. And if you'll hear us out and help us, I do believe you'll find it... worth your time."
The old master studied him now with a different lens, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the slightly sun-kissed hue of his skin—foreign, unmistakably Western. He wasn't as broad-shouldered as Jiang or Bao, nor did he carry the same hardened muscle, but there was something unsettling about his presence. Not in strength, but in mind. His expression was unreadable, not in the manner of a seasoned warrior masking their emotions, but in a way that suggested he was either alarmingly honest or a master manipulator.
A flicker of disbelief crossed Daokan's face.
Then Daokan spoke, ''Let them in.''
The shift was immediate. The suffocating weight that had pressed upon them vanished like mist under the morning sun. Bao and Jiang released shuddering breaths, their muscles aching from the strain of resistance. Yuxe Wuye closed her eyes briefly, composing herself before rising to her feet with practiced grace. Meyu, still trembling, let out a quiet gasp, her body weak from the ordeal. Atlas helps her stand up while patting her head to reassure her.
Layla, however, was slower to recover. Her limbs felt like lead, her breath uneven. She turned to Atlas, eyes burning with a mix of disbelief and irritation. Her lips moved soundlessly, forming words only he could understand 'I'm going to kill you.'
Atlas blinked and—without a second thought—slid behind Meyu as if she were a human shield. Meyu, still catching her breath, frowned in confusion.
"...What?"
Layla groaned, rubbing her back. She had barely recovered from nearly being crushed under the weight of Daokan's aura, and now she had to deal with this man making an absolute fool of himself.