Kael woke to find Mei Xing standing over him, knife in hand.
Not threatening—just observing. Her expression was unreadable in the pre-dawn darkness, but her posture suggested she'd been watching for some time.
"You talk in your sleep," she said quietly. "Or rather, something talks through you. A voice that isn't yours."
Kael sat up slowly, forcing his body alert despite only three hours of rest. His marked hand pulsed faintly, the Pathway stirring at being observed. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough." Mei Xing slid the knife back into its sheath. "Long enough to hear you negotiating with something. Offering it more contracts, asking about Sequence advancement, calculating how many pieces of yourself you need to trade away."
"And?"
"And I'm wondering if I should back out of our deal. If the person I'm partnering with will even exist in two months." She crouched to his eye level. "Chen Wei says you're losing yourself. That every contract takes more of who you were. Is that true?"
Kael considered lying. Decided against it—Mei Xing would see through deception, and their partnership required baseline honesty. "Yes. The contracts consume memories and emotional content as payment. The more I use the Pathway, the less human I become."
"Then why continue?"
"Because the alternative is death. I have approximately twenty-five days before the unstable cultivation kills me. Thirty-two more contracts will stabilize it." Kael met her eyes directly. "After that, I can slow the rate of contracts. Preserve what remains longer."
"And if there's nothing left to preserve?"
"Then I'll be an efficient calculating machine that keeps its agreements and serves its purposes. Not ideal, but functional." Kael stood, testing his recovered energy. "Does this change your decision about partnership?"
Mei Xing was silent for a long moment. "No. Because an efficient calculating machine that keeps its agreements is more reliable than a human who might betray me when emotions get involved. At least with you, I know exactly what I'm getting."
"Pragmatic."
"I learned from the best." She pulled out a folded map from her jacket. "I surveyed the target territory last night. Three optimal locations for establishing operations. The Silk Veil has been neglecting the western edge—their attention is focused on a succession dispute. If we move now, we can claim it before they notice."
Kael examined the map, his mind immediately processing angles of approach, defensive positions, profit vectors. "How much initial capital to secure it?"
"Six hundred silver minimum. Four hundred for bribes and protection payments, two hundred for establishing operations—safe house, initial inventory, personnel recruitment."
"I have eight hundred. Use six hundred for territory, keep two hundred as emergency reserve." Kael pulled out the heavy pouch from Elder Greaves, counting out the appropriate amounts. "We finalize the contract today. Once bound, you move immediately. Speed is critical—the longer we wait, the more chance competitors notice the opportunity."
Mei Xing took the silver, weighing it professionally. "The contract terms. You revised them?"
"Clause seven, twelve, and fifteen modified as you requested. Plus one addition—if I die or become completely non-functional before the two-year period ends, the contract dissolves immediately. You keep everything with no obligation to my estate or successor."
Her eyebrows raised slightly. "That's... generous."
"That's pragmatic. If I'm dead, I have no use for profit-sharing or long-term partnerships. And a contract that binds you to a corpse's interests would breed resentment and inefficiency." Kael extended his hand. "Are the terms acceptable?"
Mei Xing stared at his marked hand, at the black chains writhing just beneath the skin. Kael could see the calculation happening—weighing risk against opportunity, humanity against advantage.
Finally, she grasped his hand firmly. "Acceptable. Let's do this."
The contract formed differently this time. More complex, more structured—the Pathway responding to the sophisticated terms with equal sophistication. Black chains manifested, but instead of crude bindings, they wove intricate patterns around Mei Xing's wrist and forearm. Almost decorative, like ceremonial tattoos.
She gasped as the binding settled into place. "It feels like... like a second heartbeat. Synchronized with yours."
"That's the contract's enforcement mechanism. You can feel when I'm calling on the agreement, when terms are being activated." Kael released her hand, swaying slightly from the expenditure. "And I can feel your compliance or resistance. Mutual awareness."
Mei Xing flexed her marked arm experimentally. "It doesn't hurt. I expected it to hurt."
"Pain is inefficient unless it serves a purpose. This contract is partnership, not punishment." Kael pulled out the revised terms document. "You have three days to establish initial operations. Report every evening on progress. If you encounter problems requiring my intervention, send word through Chen Wei."
"Understood." Mei Xing gathered the silver and her map. "One question—when you're fully transformed, when there's nothing human left, what will you do with all this power you're accumulating?"
Kael considered the question seriously. Searched for motivation beyond survival. Found very little. "I don't know. Survival has been the only goal. After that..." He paused. "I suppose I'll need a new purpose. Or I'll simply continue optimizing whatever systems I'm part of. Like water flowing downhill—following the path of least resistance without conscious intent."
"That's bleak."
"That's honest." Kael turned away, dismissing her. "Now go. Daylight is wasting, and the Silk Veil's internal conflict won't last forever."
Mei Xing left without further argument, moving with purpose toward the door. Kael watched her go, noting the subtle change in her gait—slightly more confident, empowered by capital and binding agreement.
Another piece on the board. Another resource secured.
His marked hand pulsed, and suddenly the Pathway's voice was louder than usual. Insistent.
"Thirty contracts completed. Stabilization threshold approaching. But you've exceeded minimum requirements for Sequence advancement."
Kael froze. "What?"
"Sequence 9 requires ten contracts to establish. You've made thirty. The excess has accumulated. You can advance to Sequence 8 now—Contract Weaver." The voice carried hungry anticipation. "The transformation will accelerate your capabilities significantly. Multiple simultaneous bindings. Network effects. Geometric growth rather than linear."
"And the cost?"
"Everything you remember about your sister. Complete erasure—her face, her voice, the fact that she existed. The entire relationship removed from your memory."
Kael's breath caught. This was different from losing fragments, isolated moments. This was losing a person entirely. The person who'd been his only family, his primary motivation for the theft that led to execution.
"If I refuse?"
"You continue at Sequence 9. Slower progression. More individual effort per contract. No network effects." The voice paused. "But you survive either way. The choice is yours."
Kael's mind raced through calculations. Sequence 8 would make the remaining contracts easier. Faster stabilization meant lower risk of Chain Order intervention. Network effects could multiply his influence exponentially.
But his sister...
He tried to remember why she mattered. The emotions were already mostly gone—grief had been one of the first things traded away. What remained was factual knowledge: she existed, she died, he tried to save her, he failed.
No feeling attached to those facts. Just data.
"Refusing costs me efficiency for the sake of preserving information I can't emotionally value anymore," Kael said slowly. "That's irrational."
"Correct. The cost is already paid—you don't feel the loss emotionally. You'd only be clinging to abstract knowledge that serves no functional purpose."
Kael closed his eyes. Tried to imagine his sister's face. Couldn't—that had already faded. Tried to remember her voice. Nothing—traded away in earlier contracts. What remained was just the concept of "sister"—a label without substance.
"If I can't remember her anyway, what am I actually losing?"
"Exactly. The sentimental attachment to preserving what's already gone. Very inefficient."
The logic was flawless. The mathematics undeniable. Holding onto empty labels for the sake of sentiment was exactly the kind of inefficiency the Pathway eliminated.
And yet.
Some part of Kael—buried deep, nearly dissolved but not quite gone—screamed in protest. This was the last connection to who he'd been. The final anchor to Kael Yuan the person, not Kael Yuan the calculating engine.
"How long do I have to decide?" he asked.
"No time limit. But every day at Sequence 9 is a day of suboptimal operation. The longer you wait, the more risk accumulates."
Kael opened his eyes, staring at his marked hand. The chains pulsed rhythmically, eager, hungry.
Twenty-five days until death without more contracts. Thirty-two more contracts needed. Sequence 8 would make each one easier, faster, more reliable.
The mathematics demanded advancement.
But the ghost of who he'd been demanded preservation.
"I need time to think," Kael said finally.
The Pathway's voice carried something like disappointment. Or perhaps satisfaction—as if his hesitation itself was noteworthy.
"Take your time. But understand—every moment of hesitation is a moment of weakness. And weakness in this world is death."
The presence receded, leaving Kael alone with his thoughts.
He looked around the warehouse. Chen Wei sleeping in the corner, six days from freedom. Liu Shen at his desk, mechanically cataloging merchant contacts. Yin Hua would be waking soon at the mill, her healed hand marking her as his.
And soon, Mei Xing would be establishing territory in his name, bound by chains she couldn't see but absolutely couldn't break.
A network forming. Power accumulating. Survival approaching.
All it cost was everything he'd been.
The question was: how much of "everything" did he have left to lose?
And more importantly: did it matter?
Kael pulled out his notebook and began calculating. Not the decision about Sequence 8—that required different analysis. Instead, he mapped the remaining contracts. Targets, approaches, timelines.
Because regardless of what he decided about his sister's memory, the work continued.
The mathematics still demanded completion.
And Kael Yuan—whatever he was becoming—always finished his calculations.
Even if he couldn't remember why he'd started them.