Malevolent Immortal

The demon's curse pulsed like a second heartbeat beneath Kai's skin, a relentless reminder of his dwindling time.Jadeheart. The city's name coiled in his mind, a serpent of opportunity. Once a modest trade post, it now sprawled as Yog Kingdom's merciless core, its wealth funneled into the insatiable grasp of the Ito Clan. For Kai, it was a labyrinth—one he'd navigate as Kenji, a phantom in plain sight. 

He arrived at dusk, the city's jade-veined gates shimmering under sorcerous lamplight. Guards draped in indigo—the Ito's color—scanned the influx of traders and mercenaries with hawklike precision. Kai hunched his shoulders, his aura dulled to that of a road-worn wanderer. 

"Business?" A guard thrust a spear across his path. 

"No, want to join the guild," Kai rasped.

The guard sneered but waved him through. 

Jadeheart's streets teemed with frenetic energy. Vendors hawked spirit stones and Ito-branded elixirs, while guild cultivators strode past, their badges glinting—bronze serpents, silver wolves, gold phoenixes. The Ito's sigil, a coiled serpent, adorned every banner and archway. *Their shadow stretches far,* Kai noted, his gaze cold. 

The guildhall loomed ahead, a fortress of black granite. Inside, cultivators clustered around qi-lit notice boards, their voices a cacophony of greed and desperation. At the quartz counter, a clerk with a face like chiseled stone scribbled in a ledger. 

"Registration." Kai slid a pouch of silver across the counter. 

The clerk didn't glance up. "Silver's worthless. Qi Stones only." She jerked her chin toward a placard detailing the new hierarchy—*Bronze, Silver, Gold, Platinum, Titanium, Diamond.* "Five missions monthly for lodging. Fail, and you're out." 

"Understood." 

"Name. Cultivation rank." 

"Kenji. Foundation Establishment, Eighth Stage." 

The clerk's quill hesitated. In the mortal realm, Foundation Establishment commanded respect—a tier below the legendary Core Formation elites. Her eyes flicked to him, reassessing. "Bronze-tier missions only." She stamped a serpent badge into his palm. "Die, and your belongings fund the guild's coffers." 

Kai nodded, retreating to the notice board. Missions glowed in spectral ink—*Escort caravans through bandit passes. Purge wraiths from the Iron Crypt. Retrieve stolen frostbloom from river smugglers.* His fingers lingered, then tore the frostbloom slip free. 

Simple. Unremarkable. *Perfect.* 

---

The docks reeked of rot and desperation. Moonlight glossed the Jade River as Kai melted into the shadows, watching smugglers unload crates from a battered barge. Their leader, a woman with a scar splitting her cheek, barked orders. 

"Frostbloom first! Ito inspectors patrol at midnight!" 

Kai waited. Patience was a blade honed by decades of survival. When the cargo loaded onto a cart, he struck—swift, silent. A fist to a temple, a qi-laced kick to a kneecap. Bodies crumpled. The leader spun, her saber humming with volatile energy. 

"Who sent you?" she hissed. 

"The guild." Kai disarmed her with a twist, the blade clattering to the stones. 

He left her unconscious, the frostbloom crates stacked neatly. 

---

By dawn, the clerk arched a brow as he dropped the mission seal on the counter. 

"Efficient." She slid three Qi Stones toward him—pale crystals pulsing with faint energy. "Lodging's on the third floor. Room Nine." 

The room was sparse—a cot, a cracked basin, a slit of a window overlooking the guild's sparring yards. Kai sat cross-legged, the Qi Stones clutched in his palm. *Five missions a month. Bronze to Silver to Gold.* Each rank would edge him closer to Platinum, to the royal libraries' guarded archives. The Ito Clan's grip was absolute; their elites would vet access. He'd need to become indispensable—a shadow they'd never see coming. 

---

The mess hall buzzed at midday. Cultivators huddled over steaming bowls, trading rumors like currency. Kai lingered at the fringes, ears sharp. 

"—Ito heir's hosting a tournament," a silver-ranked woman muttered. "Winner gets a Titanium badge. Direct access to their inner circle." 

"Fool's gamble," her companion scoffed. "They'll own your soul." 

Nearby, a hulking man with a gold badge slammed his tankard. "Three missions this week, and the Ito leeches take half my Stones as 'tax.'" 

Kai sipped bitter tea, the taste sharp on his tongue. *The Ito tax ambition itself.* Their tendrils strangled every transaction, every breath. 

A hand clapped his shoulder. "Fresh meat, eh?" A lanky cultivator with a bronze badge grinned, ale sloshing in his grip. "Heard you handled the frostbloom job solo. Not bad for a rookie." 

Kai shrugged. "Luck." 

"Luck?" The man snorted. "Modesty won't earn you a Silver badge. Stick to gutter jobs—the Ito crush upstarts." 

"Noted." 

---

That night, Kai lay on his cot, the curse's ache a relentless drumbeat. *Fifty years.* The demon's taunt slithered through his mind, but he crushed it. The Ito's web was vast—taxing missions, vetting promotions, dangling tournaments to ensnare the desperate. To slip through, he'd need to be a ghost.