Boss Feng's office was a converted storage room at the back of the warehouse, barely large enough for a desk and two chairs. The man sat behind a scarred wooden table covered in maps, ledgers, and small clay figures representing gang territories throughout the outer district.
Kael studied the setup as he entered. The maps were detailed—street-level accuracy, notations about patrol patterns, merchant protection payments marked in different colored ink. Feng was more organized than his rough appearance suggested.
"Close the door," Feng said without looking up.
Kael complied, noting that two of Feng's lieutenants stood guard outside. Not threatening, but present. Feng was taking this meeting seriously.
"The Silk Veil Syndicate is expanding," Feng began, moving one of the clay figures northward on the map. "They've been pushing into neutral territory for the past month. Three streets that used to be open market are now under their protection—or extortion, depending on your perspective."
Kael examined the map, calculating. "The streets between your territory and theirs. The buffer zone."
"Exactly. If they take the buffer, they'll be on my doorstep. Then it's either fight or negotiate from weakness." Feng finally looked up, his expression grim. "I don't negotiate from weakness."
"You want to preempt them. Claim the buffer zone first."
"I want more than that." Feng leaned back, studying Kael with the calculating gaze of someone making a significant decision. "I want to absorb the buffer zone, fortify it, and then push into Silk Veil's southern holdings while they're overextended in the north.
Kael's mind immediately began processing the logistics. "That's aggressive. You'd be starting a gang war."
"War is coming whether I start it or not. The Silk Veil won't stop at the buffer—they've been growing for two years, absorbing smaller operations. They want everything." Feng tapped the map with one thick finger. "Better to fight now, on my terms, than wait until they're stronger."
"What do you need from me?"
"Information. Strategy. And those contracts of yours." Feng's eyes narrowed. "Chen Wei talks. Not much, but enough. I know you can bind people with loyalty guarantees. In a conflict like this, betrayal is the biggest risk. I need people I can trust absolutely."
Kael felt the opportunity crystallizing. This was exactly what the Pathway demanded—contracts with real stakes, real consequences. A gang war would provide dozens of desperate people willing to accept binding in exchange for protection, healing, or advantage.
"How many people are we talking about?" Kael asked.
"I have forty-three people in the Iron Fist. Maybe thirty would actually fight if it came to violence. Of those thirty, I'd guess ten would betray me if the Silk Veil offered better terms." Feng's honesty was surprising. "I need those ten locked in. And I need new recruits—the buffer zone has independents who'll need to choose sides. If I can guarantee their safety through your contracts, they'll choose us."
"You're asking me to bind your entire gang."
"I'm asking you to ensure loyalty during a critical operation. After we've secured the territory and stabilized, the contracts can expire." Feng paused. "Unless people want to renew. I'm not looking to enslave anyone permanently. I'm looking to survive the next month."
Kael's Contract Sense extended outward, feeling the warehouse's occupants. Forty-three people, just as Feng said. Various levels of loyalty, various motivations. Ten were indeed questionable—he could sense their loose attachment, the calculation in their obligations.
"What are you offering them in return?" Kael asked.
"Double pay during the conflict. First choice of claimed territory for setting up their own operations afterward. Healing if they're injured—that's where you come in. And guaranteed positions in whatever structure we build after consolidation."
"And what do you offer me?"
Feng smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Twenty percent of all profits from the expanded territory. Permanent arrangement, not temporary. Plus, I don't report your presence here to the sect or the Chain Order. Plus, I provide you with protection and resources as needed."
"You're making me a partner."
"I'm acknowledging reality. You've got power that's useful to me. I've got infrastructure that's useful to you. We formalize that arrangement." Feng stood, moving around the desk. "I'm not stupid, Kael. I know what you are. I know you're dangerous. But dangerous aimed at my enemies is better than dangerous hiding in my warehouse."
Kael calculated rapidly. Twenty percent of expanded Iron Fist operations could be substantial—potentially more than the arrangement with Elder Greaves. The protection was valuable, especially with the Chain Order closing in. And the contracts themselves would provide the weight he needed for Sequence 7 advancement.
But it was also risk. Gang wars attracted attention. The sect might investigate. The Chain Order definitely would.
"I need time to consider," Kael said.
"You have two hours. The Silk Veil is moving tonight—I have sources that confirm it. If I'm going to act, it has to be now." Feng's voice hardened. "And Kael? If you're not with me on this, I need you out of the warehouse. I can't have neutral parties around during an operation like this. Too much risk of information leaks."
An ultimatum, delivered with pragmatic directness. Kael appreciated that, at least. No deception, no false friendship. Just calculation.
"Two hours," Kael confirmed, and left.
---
Outside, Chen Wei was waiting. "You heard?"
"Most of it. Feng doesn't whisper." Chen Wei's expression was troubled. "Are you going to do it? Bind everyone for his gang war?"
"I don't know yet." Kael moved to his corner, sitting on the bedroll. "The mathematics favor it. But the attention it will draw is dangerous."
"People will die. In gang wars, people always die."
"People die regardless. The question is whether their deaths serve a purpose." Kael closed his eyes, thinking. "If I refuse, Feng will lose. The Silk Veil will absorb this territory, and all the people here will scatter or be killed or absorbed into a different gang. If I help, some people die, but the survivors have stable territory and better positions."
"That's not—you can't just calculate lives like that."
"Why not? What alternative framework should I use? Emotional appeals? Moral absolutism?" Kael opened his eyes, looking at Chen Wei. "You have four days left on your contract. You're not required to participate in this. When it starts, I'll release you early if you want to leave."
Chen Wei stared at him. "You'd do that?"
"The contract specifies information gathering and service. It doesn't specify combat support. Forcing you into a gang war would be breach of terms." Kael's voice was matter-of-fact. "I keep my contracts precise for this reason. No scope creep, no unexpected obligations."
"But you'd still help Feng. Bind all those people. Turn them into your... your contract slaves."
"Partners with enforced loyalty. And only if they accept terms." Kael stood, pacing. "I could offer them choice. Those who want to fight unbound can do so. Those who want guaranteed healing and protection in exchange for binding can contract with me. Let them calculate their own risk-benefit ratios."
"You think that's better? Offering desperate people a choice when they're about to walk into violence?"
"Yes. Because it *is* better. Forced binding creates resentment. Chosen binding creates commitment." Kael stopped pacing, decision crystallizing. "I'll help Feng. But on my terms. Voluntary contracts only. Clear expectations. And I reserve the right to refuse anyone whose desperation has compromised their judgment."
"That's... surprisingly ethical for someone who's supposed to be losing his humanity."
Kael considered this. Was it ethics? Or just recognition that willing participants performed better than coerced ones? He couldn't tell anymore. The distinction between moral choice and optimal strategy had blurred.
"Maybe," he said finally. "Or maybe I'm just calculating long-term reputation value. Either way, the outcome is the same."
He returned to Feng's office, the two hours barely half-elapsed.
"I'll help," Kael said. "But with conditions."
Feng gestured for him to continue.
"One: All contracts are voluntary. I present terms, people choose whether to accept. No pressure from you or your lieutenants."
"Agreed. Desperate volunteers are better than forced ones anyway."
"Two: I determine contract terms individually based on each person's role and risk. Not uniform binding."
"Fine. You know your magic better than I do."
"Three: After the consolidation, I get access to your information networks. Everything you learn about sect movements, Chain Order activity, or rival gang operations. Permanent arrangement, not limited to the conflict period."
Feng frowned, thinking. "That's significant intelligence access."
"I'm providing significant value. And the information serves both of us—threats to me often become threats to you, given our association." Kael kept his voice level. "Plus, you were already planning to offer me resources and protection. Intelligence is just another resource."
"Alright. Agreed." Feng extended his hand. "Partners, then. Welcome to the Iron Fist, officially."
Kael shook it. No contract formation—this was still conventional agreement between equals. Or near-equals, at least.
"When do we start?" Kael asked.
"Tonight. Gather everyone in two hours. I'll explain the situation. You'll offer your contracts." Feng's smile was predatory now. "By morning, the buffer zone will be ours, and the Silk Veil will know the Iron Fist has teeth."
Kael left the office, his mind already cataloging the forty-three people in the warehouse. Potential contracts, each one. Potential advancement toward Sequence 7.
The Chain Order would definitely notice this.
But by then, Kael planned to be powerful enough that noticing didn't automatically mean dying.
Seventy contracts needed. A gang war providing desperate volunteers.
The mathematics were finally working in his favor.
Even if the cost was measured in other people's blood.