The study reeked of aged ink sticks and ozone from active security arrays. Lin Hao's fingers traced the grooves of a ceremonial sword, its blade thrumming with energy frequencies tuned to disrupt surveillance runes. First Prince Yan Peng's breathing remained steady at 45 breaths per minute—a battlefield veteran's rhythm unaffected by the pheromone inhibitors wafting through hidden vents.

  "Let us play." Lin Hao's sword tip carved frost patterns into marble, each stroke releasing the sharp citrus scent of activated nanites. The improvised Go board glowed faintly beneath their knees, its lines shimmering with containment field harmonics.

  Yan Peng's ancestral armor clinked like frozen wind chimes as he placed the first white stone. "Your methods... unconventional." His voice carried the gravel texture of artillery bombardment recordings.

  Beyond the study walls, Wolfspider's cloaking field emitted subsonic vibrations matching the estate's foundation resonance. The arachnid scuttled through sewage channels reeking of ammonium nitrate and political decay.

  Latrine Block – 20:34

  Minister Ma's explosive diarrhea sprayed acidic patterns across porcelain. The stench of fermented sea urchin and panic sweat mingled with jasmine-scented deodorizers. His bodyguard's nose wrinkled beneath a filtration mask as Wolfspider's cloaked legs brushed against mildew-caked bricks.

  "Rats?" The guard's blade ignited with plasma edge, its hum masking the click of Wolfspider's venom sacs pressurizing.

  Study – Simultaneous

  Lin Hao's black stone cracked against marble. Through shared optics, he watched Kung Fu Fly's wings slice moonbeams into prismatic death rays. The insectoid's attack pattern matched Yan Peng's breathing cadence—a deliberate synchronization to avoid triggering the prince's subconscious defenses.

  "Your move carries weight." Yan Peng's smile revealed dental implants capable of projecting holographic battle maps.

  Latrine – 20:35:17

  Wolfspider's barbed tail pierced through fecal matter and abdominal fat with equal ease. Minister Ma's scream died in a gurgle of intestinal gases and frozen blood. The bodyguard spun toward the noise, plasma blade carving smoking arcs through humid air.

  Kung Fu Fly dive-bombed from shadowed rafters, wing edges shearing through carotid arteries with the hiss of superheated protein chains. The guard's head toppled into a urinal drain, his final neural burst transmitting error codes to palace security.

  Study – 20:36

  Yan Peng's stone hovered millimeters above the board. Somewhere beneath his armor, ancestral energy cores pulsed warnings. "You've studied Sun Tzu's variants."

  Lin Hao's sword tip traced counter-invasion patterns in the frost. "Adaptation proves superior to doctrine." The words carried triple meanings—game strategy, assassination mechanics, their unspoken power struggle.

  Corridor – 20:37

  Gu Yunle's waiter disguise dripped with counterfeit sweat as he distributed poisoned canapés. His retinal display tracked Wolfspider's retreat path—eight-legged shadows dissolving into structural stress points.

  Latrine – 20:38

  Minister Ma's corpse stiffened in rapid rigor mortis, ice crystals blooming from wound sites. Security drones arriving first recorded "frozen heart attack" evidence—clean enough to avoid diplomatic incidents, bizarre enough to fuel tomorrow's gossip networks.

  Study – 20:40

  Yan Peng's comm bead vibrated with emergency frequencies. Lin Hao's enhanced hearing captured the subvocalized report: Minister Ma deceased. Apparent natural causes.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "Your game sharpens under pressure." The prince's stone finally descended, cracking the frost board with containment field overload.

  Lin Hao's sword tip quivered in feigned concentration. Through Kung Fu Fly's compound eyes, he watched servants scrub blood from latrine tiles with enzyme solutions smelling of lemongrass and lies.

  Courtyard – 20:45

  Four Treabytes preened toxin-coated feathers as Lin Hao emerged. Yan Peng's grip lingered on his shoulder—five seconds too long, pressure points testing for combat readiness.

  "Consider my armory open to you." The prince's breath condensed into temporary alliance runes.

  Lin Hao bowed with precisely 23.4° spinal flexion—respectful yet noncommittal. His boots crunched gravel infused with the carbonized remains of previous disappointments.

  Estate Perimeter – 20:53

  Wolfspider's mandibles clicked in post-mission debrief. Lin Hao's neural interface replayed the kill sequence—ministerial bowels voiding in death throes, ice venom crystallization rates, guard neural patterns during decapitation.

  "Clean work." He tossed the arachnid a sliver of vibranium alloy, its molecular structure singing of deep space mining operations.

  The return path through capital back alleys reeked of success—burnt insulation from overloaded security grids, ozone from active cloaking fields, and the ever-present stench of political decay masked by night-blooming corpse flowers.

  Clean Exit

  The latrine reeked of iron-rich blood and frozen bile. Minister Ma's corpse lay sprawled across shattered porcelain, his jowls glistening with ice crystals formed by Wolfspider's venom. Guards clustered around the scene, their torch flames casting jittery shadows that danced like panicked ghosts across fecal-stained walls.

  "Search every brick!" Wang Taiwei's roar carried the timbre of impending career collapse. His boot crushed a still-twitching cockroach, releasing pheromones that attracted swarms of augmented beetles from the sewage drains.

  Study – 20:58

  Lin Hao's fingers lingered on the ceremonial sword's hilt, its grip molded from the vertebrae of executed traitors. Through Kung Fu Fly's compound eyes, he watched Second Prince Yan Fengjun's pupils dilate—0.3mm fluctuation indicating suppressed panic.

  "Your gambit... unexpected." First Prince Yan Peng's voice crackled with the static of compromised vocal implants. The Go board between them emitted faint radiation warnings, its stones now glowing faintly from residual energy discharges.

  Lin Hao stood, the sword's scabbard clinking against hidden surveillance drones disguised as tassels. "All games must end." His retinal display superimposed thermal scans showing guards converging on the eastern gate.

  Corridor – 21:03

  Yan Fengjun's ceremonial armor clanked with each hurried step, the sound echoing through halls perfumed with emergency incense. "My brother's hound watches," he muttered, nodding toward shadows where Han Tian's breathing synchronized perfectly with ventilation cycles.

  Lin Hao's tongue brushed the suicide capsule—now tasting of mint and triumph. "Loyalty has many faces." The words carried triple entendres only a systems-trained assassin would recognize.

  Gatehouse – 21:07

  Four Treabytes' talons dug into Lin Hao's shoulder, chemical sensors logging nineteen distinct weapon signatures in the checkpoint. The parrot's pre-recorded caw ("All clear!") bypassed security protocols, its subsonic vibrations temporarily disabling facial recognition scanners.

  Wang Taiwei's lieutenant approached, his nasal filters hissing against Wolfspider's residual neurotoxin in Lin Hao's hair. "Your sword requires registration—"

  Yan Fengjun's seal ring glowed blood-red. "Imperial business." The lie carried pheromone markers matching emergency evacuation orders.

  City Streets – 21:13

  Sewage vapors coiled around Lin Hao's boots as he vanished into alleyways. Kung Fu Fly's wings hummed at 333Hz—the exact frequency to disrupt tracking drones. Somewhere above, Han Tian's thermal silhouette paused on a rooftop, infrared gaze sweeping empty streets that still echoed with the phantom scent of snowpeak oolong.

  Palace East Wing – 21:30

  Yan Peng crushed a surveillance beetle between thumb and forefinger, its ichor staining ancestral armor with fractal betrayal patterns. "The blind see through others' eyes."

  Han Tian materialized from shadow currents, his voice layered with encryption static. "Wolfspider-class biomech confirmed. Requesting permission for neural purge."

  "Denied." The prince's smile stretched like over-tempered steel. "Let our gardener tend his pests... until harvest."

  Slums – 21:45

  Gu Yunle's black market stall reeked of fried scorpions and compromised data chips. He tossed Lin Hao a dreamleaf pod glowing with fresh mission parameters. "The third prince sends... fertilizer."

  Lin Hao crushed the pod, its vapors forming temporary coordinates matching Minister Ma's secret accounts. Four Treabytes shrieked laughter that startled feral cats—their augmented eyes capturing the exact moment Wolfspider's venom stores replenished.

  Safehouse – 22:00

  The suicide capsule's bitter aftertaste finally faded. Lin Hao dismantled the ceremonial sword, its pommel revealing microfilm detailing Yan Peng's southern troop deployments. Through cracked windowpanes, the neon glow of pleasure barges on the river mirrored chessboard patterns from tonight's game—a city lit by false victories and hidden knives.