After walking down the hall for a minute or so it hit me.

  Something was wrong. My new [Root Sense]—a tingling awareness that extended from my feet into the earth—was quiet. Too quiet. There were no vibrations of footsteps inside or indication of conversation. The building felt dead.

  "Wait," I said.

  Bells looked at me, his hand already on his sword hilt. "What?"

  "It’s empty," I said. "Abort."

  We quickly exited the building.

  I threw the truck into reverse and backed out of the lot to drive a block down, tucking the truck into a shadowed alleyway that overlooked the strip mall.

  "We wait," I said, killing the engine.

  Three hours passed.

  Finally, headlights appeared.

  A convoy of sedans and SUV’s rolled into the lot. They parked haphazardly, engines revving. Doors slammed and men spilled out—dozens of them. Some carried baseball bats, others had pistols tucked into their waistbands.

  "Good call," Bells whispered. "If we had breached earlier, we would have been caught inside with our pants down."

  "Patience is cheaper than healthcare," I murmured.

  The gang split up and a large group headed inside the main building, carrying crates of beer and food. Another group stayed in the parking lot, lighting fires in metal barrels and setting up a perimeter.

  "Alright," I said. "Here's the play. Minimize damage and Maximize effectiveness. We're here to recruit."

  I pointed to the guys by the fire barrels. "You take the parking lot. Keep it quiet."

  I pointed to the main building. "I'll handle the inside."

  Bells grinned, cracking his knuckles. "You got it."

  I opened the door and vanished into the night.

  I moved fast. My Sprout Realm physique made me a blur in the darkness as I slipped past the perimeter guards before they even felt the breeze of my passing.

  I reached the side door of the strip mall and slipped inside.

  Bass bumped through the walls.

  I moved down the hallway.

  To my left, a door was ajar. I peeked in and a group of civilians were tied to chairs, duct tape over their mouths. Their eyes were glazed over, and their heads were bobbing rhythmically to the muffled beat coming from down the hall.

  To my right, another room. Monster Dogs—massive, mutated beasts usually frothing with rage—were chained to the wall. They were lying down, tails thumping the floor in time with the music.

  "Weird," I whispered.

  I kept moving.

  I turned a corner and walked straight into a group of five men playing cards.

  They looked up, surprised to see a stranger in a suit standing in their hallway.

  Before they could shout, I moved.

  I closed the distance in a heartbeat. A chop to the neck of the first guy and a palm strike to the chest of the second. Within three seconds, all five were on the floor, unconscious.

  I checked them. No Qi shielding or defensive aura.

  "Human," I realized.

  I moved to the next room with five more guys. Same result. I dropped them like sacks of potatoes.

  By the time I reached the end of the hallway, I had knocked out twenty five men. And not a single one of them had used Qi.

  Grace’s report was wrong. The Diamond Boys weren't an "All Cultivator Gang." They were mostly normal thugs.

  "Clever," I thought. "They spread the rumor to scare off rivals. Perception is power."

  I reached the doors at the end of the hall. The music was deafening here.

  I pushed the doors open.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  It was a lounge. The walls were lined with speakers and in the center of the room, sitting on a luxurious couch, was a man. He was draped in gold chains, surrounded by stacks of cash and women dancing in a trance like state.

  This was Joakim. The leader.

  I stepped in.

  Joakim jumped up, hitting a button on a remote and the music cut out instantly.

  "Who the hell are you?!" he shouted, reaching for a pistol on the table.

  Then he really looked at me.

  "Axehill’s rival?" he whispered. "The Coward of Eden?"

  I opened my mouth to speak, to offer my terms.

  But Joakim beat me to it.

  He dropped the gun and fell to his knees, pressing his forehead into the carpet.

  "I surrender!" he screamed. "Please! Take whatever you want! Just don't kill me!"

  I stood there, stunned.

  I had forgotten.

  To me, I was a failure who had hidden in a hole for half a year. But to him? I was the man who dueled Axehill in the streets, the leader of a Major Faction, and a monster who had survived a war with a superpower.

  "I didn't need to sneak in," I realized. "I could have just knocked on the front door."

  I walked over to the couch and sat down.

  "Get up," I said.

  Joakim scrambled to his feet, looking terrified.

  "What realm are you?" I asked.

  "Realm 2, sir!" Joakim stammered. "Music Cultivator!"

  "And the music?" I asked. "Is it just for show?"

  "No sir! It's a suppression field!" Joakim said eagerly, trying to prove his worth. "Anyone Realm 2 or lower gets paralyzed or enslaved by the rhythm. The only reason you're moving is because you must be Realm 3 or higher!"

  I paused.

  Realm 3. Sprout Stage. He was right.

  If Bells—who was Realm 2—had come in here, he might have been compromised.

  "Good thing I kept him outside," I thought.

  "And the gang?" I asked. "Why did my report say you were all cultivators?"

  "My Path, sir!" Joakim explained. "I can infuse MP3 players and speakers with my Qi. When my boys listen to it, they get a buff. Strength, speed, aggression. It makes a normal human fight like a Realm 1 cultivator."

  My eyes narrowed.

  A force multiplier. He could turn civilians into supersoldiers just by having them put on headphones.

  "Show me," I said.

  Joakim pointed around the room. "Just look, sir."

  I looked at the women dancing again but this time I looked closer at their eyes.

  Dead and empty.

  I remembered the dogs and the hostages.

  They were enslaved. Everyone in this building was under his spell. That’s why no one raised the alarm when I breached. They were too busy listening to the beat.

  "You're hired," I said, standing up.

  Joakim blinked. "What?"

  "I'm integrating the Diamond Boys into the Eden Military," I said. "You work for me now."

  We walked out of the building ten minutes later.

  The parking lot was quiet.

  Bells was sitting on the hood of a car, eating a popsicle he had looted from somewhere. In front of him was a neat pile of unconscious gang members stacked like firewood.

  "Done?" Bells asked, tossing the stick away.

  "Done," I said. "Wake them up. We're going shopping."

  We drove the convoy—my truck, plus the gang’s fleet—to the new Eden Supermarket.

  It was booming.

  The parking lot was packed. The neon lights—Seaside tech, I reminded myself bitterly—blazed against the night sky. Holographic avatars danced above the entrance, welcoming customers.

  We walked in.

  The gang members looked around in awe. They had been living in a squalid strip mall for months. This place looked like heaven.

  "It's beautiful," Joakim whispered.

  "It's effective," I corrected.

  I led them to the Health Aisle and I grabbed armfuls of Heavenly Healing Paste.

  "Fix yourselves up," I ordered, tossing tubes to the men I had beaten up.

  Then we hit the Food Court. I ordered fifty meals from the auto servers. The gang ate like starving wolves.

  Finally, the Tech Aisle.

  "Phones," I said to the clerk. "Fifty of them. The new Dolphone Model X."

  I handed them out.

  "This is how you get your orders," I said. "This is how you get paid."

  We stood in the parking lot an hour later. The gang was fed, healed, and equipped with top-of-the-line tech. The resentment of the takeover was gone, replaced by the loyalty of full bellies and new toys.

  "Go back to the strip mall," I told Joakim. "I'll have Sal renovate it into a barracks tomorrow morning."

  I watched them drive off.

  Bells sighed, looking at the city lights.

  "This is too much for me," he said. "The lights, the noise, the corporate takeovers. I miss the dirt."

  "Go," I said.

  Bells nodded and headed for Rushfall.

  I drove home alone.

  I pulled into the driveway.

  The hole in the ground was gone and in its place stood the Mansion.

  It was exactly what I had asked for. Three stories of black steel and glass, wrapped in living vines. It glowed softly in the dark.

  I walked inside.

  "Ommmmm."

  Aiya was in the living room, chanting. Since the duplex was destroyed, she had moved onto the first floor.

  I walked past her, through the kitchen—running my hand over the gleaming Seaside fridge—and out the back door.

  The garden was still there.

  Sal had built a massive glass structure around it, turning my backyard into a high-tech greenhouse. The soil was warm, Tim the Tomato Plant was sleeping, and the Heavenly Moss blinked with golden light.

  I watered them in silence.

  Then I went upstairs to the master suite and I showered in a bathroom washing off the grime of the strip mall.

  I fell into the bed.

  Day 1 as Marketing Lead was over. I had acquired a gang, secured the neighborhood, and begun the rebuilding.

  "Not bad for middle management," I whispered, and closed my eyes.