The guard's key rattled in the lock. Yun Che slumped against the wall, letting his body go limp, letting the blood on his face — some of it real, most of it carefully applied — paint a convincing portrait of defeat.

The cell door swung open. Two guards entered: one fat, one thin, both wearing the grey robes of outer disciples. They had been assigned dungeon duty as punishment for some minor infraction, and they took their frustrations out on the prisoners with the enthusiasm of small men given power over smaller men.

"Dinner time, cripple," the fat one said, tossing a wooden bowl of grey slop onto the floor. Half of it spilled across the stone.

Yun Che didn't move. He had been timing their routines for three days, learning the rhythm of guard rotations, memorizing the positions of keys, exits, and blind spots. Three days of playing dead, of eating slop, of letting them mock him. Three days of waiting.

Today was the day.

"Hey. I said it's dinner time." The fat guard kicked him — not hard, just enough to assert dominance. "You deaf as well as crippled?"

Yun Che's hand moved faster than any cripple's hand should move. The Sky Poison Pearl had not yet healed his meridians, but it had already strengthened his body beyond mortal limits. His fingers closed around the fat guard's ankle, and he squeezed.

Bone cracked.

The fat guard screamed and collapsed. Before the thin one could raise the alarm, Yun Che was on his feet, driving his elbow into the man's throat — a precise strike that crushed the windpipe without killing, silencing without alerting.

He caught the falling body and lowered it gently to the stone floor. The fat guard was still conscious, eyes wide with terror as Yun Che knelt beside him.

"Three questions," Yun Che said softly. "Where are my belongings stored? Where is the secret exit from this dungeon? And who is the current guard captain?"

"You — you're supposed to be — "

"Supposed to be crippled? I am. Even a cripple can break a fat man's ankle." Yun Che applied gentle pressure to the shattered bone. "The questions. Now."

The fat guard talked. They always did.