The dormitory door creaked with the scent of fermented parchment and tension. Lin Hao's fingers brushed the lock mechanism—frost patterns blooming under his touch as encryption wards activated. Four Treabytes' talons left smoking grooves in the windowsill, its photoreceptors tracking the approaching trio through seven spectrum layers.

  "Winter Solstice banquet?" Lin Hao's voice carried the metallic resonance of suppressed energy cores. Qin Yu's pulse spiked 12%—a telltale surge of adrenaline laced with star-anise oil from his hidden dagger sheath.

  Prince Yan Chen's ancestral tattoos pulsed faintly beneath his robes, emitting ultraviolet patterns that made Four Treabytes' gears stutter. "My private estate," he said, the words tasting of glacial runoff and political calculus. "North quadrant. Far from prying eyes."

  Lin Hao's tongue found the suicide capsule. Through Four Treabytes' shared optics, he saw quantum filaments of obligation binding Qin Yu to the prince—a cobweb of generational debts written in blood-iron contracts.

  "Prior engagement," Lin Hao declined, the lie carrying the crispness of freshly forged alloy. "With Prince Yan Fengjun."

  Qin Yu's left eyelid twitched—a 0.3-second microexpression Four Treabytes logged as betrayal detection protocol 44-A. The mechanical parrot's voice modulator emitted subsonic reassurance frequencies only Lin Hao could perceive.

  Three Floors Below – Ventilation Shaft Z-9

  Lei Meng's laughter rumbled through ductwork, vibrating at the exact frequency to dislodge decades of dust. The mountain-born warrior's boots left clay-scented prints as he escorted Yan Hong through maintenance tunnels—her pheromones blooming like night-blooming cereus dipped in neurotoxin.

  "Your friends distrust me." Yan Hong's voice dripped honeyed venom. Her fingernails traced Lei Meng's pulse points, leaving faint phosphorescent trails.

  Lei Meng's grin showed too many teeth. "They smell the rot in your family's cultivation manuals." His hand closed around her wrist, callouses scraping against jade-bracelet surveillance charms. "But rot makes good fertilizer."

  Dormitory – Present

  Yan Chen's ancestral energy swirled into temporary frost runes above Lin Hao's bed—Compromise: Second banquet shift. The prince's smile never reached his eyes, which reflected depthless voids where pupils should be. "We'll await your late arrival."

  Qin Yu's shoulders relaxed 1.7 centimeters. "Iron triangle stays intact," he declared, tossing Lin Hao a dreamleaf pod that smelled of adolescent oaths and battlefield promises.

  The conversation shifted as Lei Meng entered, his thermal signature entwined with Yan Hong's ice-cold aura. Four Treabytes' chemical sensors identified thirteen distinct poisons coating the woman's hairpins—seven lethal, six aphrodisiac.

  "Meet Yan Hong!" Lei Meng's voice boomed with forced cheer, the mountain accent thickening to mask tension. His knuckles whitened around a jade token burning with emergency encryption codes.

  Lin Hao's augmented vision dissected Yan Hong's practiced blush, the micro-tremors in her pheromone glands, the concealed needle glinting beneath her sleeve. Through Four Treabytes, he shared the analysis with Qin Yu via retinal projection.

  Post-Departure – Rooftop Observation Point

  Yan Chen's breath crystallized into temporary battle maps as he addressed Qin Yu. "Your mountain friend plays dangerous games." The prince's jade hairpin emitted containment-field harmonics—ready to quarantine the entire dormitory block.

  Qin Yu's reply tasted of iron filings and loyalty. "Lei Meng knows to burn infected roots." His fingers brushed the dagger's hilt—its surface etched with anti-possession runnes glowing faintly indigo.

  Dorm Interior – 23:47

  Alone again, Lin Hao activated the Black Obsidian Blade. Its edge hummed at 444Hz—the exact resonance to disrupt Yan Hong's surveillance charms. Four Treabytes shed feather-dust nanites that swarmed through ventilation systems, devouring listening spores.

  The suicide capsule's bitter almond aftertaste mingled with anticipation as Lin Hao reviewed assassination blueprints. Minister Ma's weakness glowed crimson in his neural HUD—Snowpeak Oolong brewed with virgin's breath.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Somewhere in the city's underbelly, Gu Yunle traded vials of delayed-action neurotoxin for a case of resonance grenades. The black marketeer's laugh echoed through sewage tunnels, bouncing off bones from last dynasty's failed conspirators.

  The Banquet

  The Eastern Palace reeked of camphorwood and ambition. Third Prince Yan Hongyi's fingers hovered above the Go board, trembling with calculated frailty. His opponent's jade chess piece struck the board with the crispness of a guillotine blade—click—releasing faint notes of sandalwood incense trapped in its mineral veins.

  "Your Highness falters again." Grand Tutor Yang Zhe's rheumy eyes glinted with ultraviolet sensors disguised as cataracts. The old man's breath carried the metallic tang of loyalty algorithms overwritten seven times.

  Yan Hongyi coughed weakly, his pallid skin glowing faintly under hidden bioluminescent implants. "A master's shadow eclipses all," he murmured, collecting dead stones that still radiated residual warmth from Yang Zhe's manipulation. The prince's sleeve brushed against a hidden panel, activating subsonic dampeners that masked his true pulse rate—steady at 45bpm despite the charade.

  Three Floors Below – Surveillance Chamber

  Yang Zhe's cloned consciousness flickered across holographic feeds. His true body lay preserved in cryostasis beneath the palace, neural filaments transmitting real-time analyses to First Prince Yan Peng's war council. Third Prince remains negligible threat, the report pulsed in blood-red glyphs. Recommend reallocating resources to Fourth Prince's faction.

  Eastern Palace – Present

  "The new prodigy at Tianyan Academy..." Yang Zhe's voice crackled with artificial aging protocols. "Lin Hao. A seedling worth nurturing... or pruning?"

  Yan Hongyi's teacup trembled, its surface rippling with nanite-laced oolong. "A name vast as the heavens," he mused, allowing a droplet to fall—splat—onto the Go board. The liquid crystallized instantly, forming fractal patterns matching Fourth Prince Yan Chen's latest troop deployments.

  As Yang Zhe departed, the prince's chambers exhaled—air filtration systems purging decades of surveillance spores. Yan Hongyi's frail posture straightened, vertebrae realigning with the snap of breaking ice. His fingers danced across the Go board, black stones erupting in gamma-ray bursts that vaporized white formations. The victory scent of ionized ozone filled the room.

  Wang Taiwei's Estate – 19:47

  Lin Hao's boots crunched gravel infused with centuries of political bloodstains. Four Treabytes' talons dug into his shoulder, chemical sensors cataloging the estate's defenses: gunpowder residue from ceremonial cannons, traces of neurotoxin in the welcome wine, the burnt-copper stench of active energy shields.

  "Master Lin Hao!" The doorman's pupils dilated 0.5mm upon recognizing the parrot—a telltale sign of pre-programmed hospitality protocols. His smile stretched too wide, revealing dental implants capable of firing poisoned needles.

  Through Four Treabytes' shared optics, Lin Hao scanned the courtyard. Minister Ma Shuo-liang's carriage gleamed under moonlight—its lacquered surfaces crawling with anti-scrying runnes. The accompanying guard's cybernetic eye whirred faintly, iris contracting as it analyzed Lin Hao's skeletal structure for weak points.

  Main Hall – 19:53

  The announcement of Lin Hao's arrival froze conversations mid-syllable. Three hundred and seventeen pairs of eyes tracked his movement—thermal signatures spiking with predatory interest. Perfume clouds congealed around gossip about his ocular implants, the air thickening with jasmine-scented intrigue.

  First Prince Yan Peng emerged from the throng, his ancestral armor clinking with the bones of conquered warlords. "Our Tianyan Academy's rising star," he boomed, clapping Lin Hao's shoulder with force calibrated to test rib durability. The prince's breath reeked of fermented tiger's blood—a traditional vitality enhancer laced with psychoactive compounds.

  Lin Hao's neural HUD flared crimson. Target acquired: Ma Shuo-liang, 11 o'clock position. Bodyguard threat level: 7.3. Minister Ma's jowls glistened with sweat and smuggled spirit beast oils, his fingers nervously adjusting a jade pendant that emitted counter-assassin frequency waves.

  "Your performance in the Illusory Arena..." Yan Peng's voice dropped to a vibration matching Lin Hao's skull resonance. "Shall we discuss it privately? The armory houses... enlightening artifacts."

  Four Treabytes' feathers bristled. Warning: Proximity to prince increases assassination suspicion index by 58%.

  Lin Hao's tongue found the suicide capsule—its wintergreen bitterness now layered with adrenaline. "Knowledge shared thrives," he deflected, watching through the parrot's eyes as Minister Ma accepted a teacup from a servant. The steam carried Snowpeak Oolong's signature pine-needle aroma... and the faintest trace of maiden's breath.

  Servants' Corridor – 20:11

  Gu Yunle adjusted his waiter's uniform, the fabric itching with counterfeit silk fibers. His tray bore seven poisoned delicacies—each corresponding to a rival faction's genetic profile. A resonance grenade masqueraded as champagne chilled to precisely 3°C, its surface beading with condensation that mirrored the sweating faces of conspirators.

  Main Hall – 20:17

  The chandeliers dimmed as Yan Peng led Lin Hao toward a vault door etched with battle scenes. The prince's thumbprint ignited biometric scanners that smelled of charred flesh—recent authentication.

  "Behold." Yan Peng gestured to walls lined with pulsating spirit cores. "The true measure of power."

  Lin Hao's ocular implants adjusted. Each core contained a screaming elemental—their agony vibrations tuned to enhance the prince's combat aura. The stench of broken quantum bonds assaulted his nostrils, a fragrance somewhere between rotting stardust and overcooked circuitry.

  Four Treabytes shrieked a warning as temporal distortion fields activated. Somewhere in the hall, Minister Ma's teacup clattered to the floor, its contents spreading across marble in a pattern matching the Eastern Palace's Go board massacre.