Longevity Palace
The prayer chants in Wu Ling's chambers never echoed. The sound was too thick, too wet, as if the air itself swallowed breath.
The monks bowed in rows of seven. Each bore scars along the scalp — not from razors, but something deeper. Burned in.
Then came the servant, kneeling low.
"Your Highness. Wu An has secured control over the Western Merchant Quarter. And the southern shrine network."
Her eyes remained closed.
"Shen Yue?"
"No, Your Highness. It was Wu Jin."
A long silence.
"Second Brother," she whispered. "Always quiet. Always exact."
She rose without sound, her robes trailing over the incense-burnt carpet. The smoke clung to her skin like frost.
"Wu Kang bleeds, even with Third Brother's support. But he'll get desperate now."
Her eyes turned toward the east.
"Send word. I'll visit the Eastern Palace at dusk."
I read the reports slowly. Too slowly. Something in my hands was shaking — though not from fear. It felt more like… hunger.
I had won, yes. But I could feel the victory fray at the edges.
The shrine access meant I now touched the city's spiritual arteries — but also stepped into ground no man controlled alone.
Wu Jin had intervened, with chilling precision. But I had no idea what he wanted in return. Not really.
Then came the parchment. No sound, no footstep. Just a slip of paper pinned to my chamber wall by a hairpin made of blackened wood.
"Meet me at the Hungry Boar. Ask for Gao."
Gao looked plain. Too plain. His robes were clean but not ceremonial. His tea was poured precisely, without spilling a drop.
"Wu Jin sends greetings," he said. "And terms."
"Speak."
"You keep control of the southern shrines."
"Yes I know that"
"He will help you gain legitimacy as well."
"By doing what?"
"The Southern Prayer Procession is coming up. Take charge of that"
My hand twitched.
"If you're able to pull it off, you won't just get the Second Prince's public support. You'll get what you need. Ministers, priests and military commanders."
"And what does Wu Jin want?"
Gao tilted his head.
"To survive."
I returned to find Shen Yue waiting by the unlit brazier.
"Something followed you back," she said without looking up.
"From the tavern?"
"No. From before. From Dongxia. It's only now caught up."
I sat, and the paper in my sleeve burned against my skin. No flame. Just the feeling.
Then it came.
A rush.
A vision.
The ceiling broke open.
But not physically — it peeled back like eyelids.
And through it, I saw not the sky, but a shape coiled around a thousand-thousand cities, whispering backwards.
Its voice wasn't heard. It unwrote thought.
Beneath it, shrines crumbled.
People walked in spirals.
The rivers turned black.
I was kneeling — in chains.
Wu Jin stood beside me, lips sewn shut.
Wu Kang burned on a pyre that did not give light.
Wu Ling smiled, her face peeling like silk.
And Shen Yue—
She stood over me with a blade carved from her own spine.
Then it was gone.
The room returned.
But the shadow had not left.
Shen Yue pressed cold cloth to my forehead.
"How long has it spoken to you?"
"It doesn't speak."
"Then what does it do?"
"It watches."
Later – The Hall of Records
I summoned a minor official — young, clever, indebted to a merchant family I had saved once.
"Start mapping who controls which shrine personnel," I said. "Especially the ones tied to ancestral scrollkeeping."
"And if they resist?"
"They won't know. You'll ask for temple census records. I want names. Positions. Transfer history."
This was how I would build a court of my own — not by bloodline, but through silence. Through shadow.
Eastern Palace
Wu Kang poured over reports as Taian watched.
"He's moving faster," Wu Kang muttered. "He was always sharp. But now? It's like he's chasing something no one sees."
Taian raised an eyebrow.
"What if it's not him doing the chasing?"
Wu Kang didn't respond. Just slammed a red-stamped petition on the desk.
"We move first. We discredit him publicly. Force him to act out of line. Force the Lord Protector to question his mental state."
Taian shrugged.
"Or we kill him."
"Not yet."
A shadow stirred in the hall. Wu Ling's voice reached them before she stepped inside.
"The fourth son is too useful alive," she said. "Until he's not."
Wu An's Mansion – That Night
I wrote no letters.
I lit no candles.
Only one thing remained: a prayer offering, left in the hollow root beneath the Temple of Wanshi.
The scroll bore only five words, scratched so deep the parchment tore:
"I accept the black invitation."
I left it there, untouched.
The wind stopped for a moment.
Then I walked back into the city, where eyes were already waiting.