Dawn arrived with the sour tang of fermented rice wine lingering in the courtyard. Lin Hao’s knees pressed against cold flagstones that still radiated residual heat from the grill. Qin Yu swayed beside him, his breath reeking of plum brandy and roasted garlic. Lei Meng’s massive frame cast a shadow over the group, his bowstring humming faintly with tension even at rest.

  “Brothers…!” Qin Yu slurred, raising a cracked porcelain cup. The liquor sloshed over his fingers, dripping onto stone tiles that hissed faintly from the acidic droplets. “Let’s swear… swear an oath!”

  Gu Yunle rolled onto his back, his silk robe stained with fish grease and charcoal dust. “Count me in!” he hiccuped, the sweet-sour stench of half-digested duck fat wafting from his lips. “But I’m youngest—no chores for me!”

  Lei Meng’s calloused palms flattened against the ground, crushing a firefly that glowed briefly before extinguishing. His grunt of assent carried the bass rumble of distant thunder.

  Lin Hao’s vision swam, the moon’s pale light refracting through wine-drenched eyelashes. Cold dew seeped through his trousers as he knelt, the earthy musk of damp moss mixing with the metallic bite of spilled baijiu. Four Treabytes perched on a nearby lantern, ultraviolet eyes tracking the men’s erratic pulse points.

  05:17 – Oath Under Dawn

  Qin Yu’s forehead thudded against stone, the impact echoing through the silent courtyard. “I, Qin Yu…” His words slurred into the crackle of dying embers.

  Gu Yunle mimicked the motion, his jeweled hairpin clinking against tile. “I, Gu Yunle…” The cloying sweetness of peony perfume clashed with his wine-soured breath.

  Lei Meng’s bow creaked as he bent forward, his voice a gravelly bassline. “I, Lei Meng…” The scent of pine resin and gunpowder clung to his sleeves.

  Lin Hao pressed his palms to the chilled stone, its roughness scraping skin. Wolfspider detected minute tremors—the vibration of Prince Yan Chen’s steady breathing from the pavilion, feigning sleep. “I, Lin Hao…”

  Their voices tangled in the morning mist:

  “Though not born of same blood…”

  “Share fortune’s blessings…”

  “And calamity’s burden…”

  “Till death’s frost claims us all…”

  A sparrow’s startled cry punctuated the oath. Four Treabytes ruffled metallic feathers, sensing the shift in atmospheric pressure as dawn’s first rays pierced the clouds.

  08:02 – Morning After

  Qin Yu groaned, clutching his temples. The sharp sting of citrus peel tea assaulted his nostrils before the first sip. “Did we…?”

  Gu Yunle prodded a congealed fish head with his chopstick. “You looked so serious, like a bridegroom pledging vows!” His forced laughter carried the tinny echo of hungover nerves.

  Lei Meng oiled his bowstring with methodical strokes, the musky aroma of bear fat overwhelming the courtyard’s stale wine stench. “You started it.”

  Lin Hao tossed a walnut shell into the firepit. “Seniority stands. Call me ‘Eldest Brother’ or face consequences.” His boot nudged a half-burnt oath scroll—the characters 同生共死 (live and die together) curling at the edges.

  Prince Yan Chen approached, his silk slippers whispering across dewy grass. “A missed opportunity for royal camaraderie.” The prince’s jade pendant clinked, its sound waves triggering Wolfspider’s threat-detection hairs.

  Qin Yu’s smile tightened. “Cousins shouldn’t gamble with brotherhood.” His knuckles whitened around the teacup, detecting the political calculus beneath the prince’s jovial tone.

  Gu Yunle snatched a steamed bun, its doughy warmth releasing yeasty vapors. “I’ll outlive you all!” Crumbs sprayed across the table, sticking to Lei Meng’s freshly polished arrowheads.

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  09:15 – Unspoken Calculations

  Lin Hao traced the grain of the rosewood table, fingertips registering the microscopic grooves left by long-dead carpenters. The prince’s sandalwood incense couldn’t mask the acrid undertones of gunpowder residue in Lei Meng’s quiver.

  Four Treabytes’ ocular implants zoomed on Qin Yu’s trembling hand—not from hangover, but suppressed fury at being maneuvered into alliance. Kung Fu Fly sampled airborne molecules: adrenaline, cortisol, and the faintest trace of arsenic on Gu Yunle’s untouched congee.

  Lei Meng’s bowstring snapped taut. “Hunting later?” His rumbling bass carried subsonic frequencies that made wine cups vibrate.

  As the others debated game trails, Lin Hao’s gaze met the prince’s. Unspoken truths hung between them—the convenience of this drunken pact, the inevitability of shared battles ahead. Somewhere beyond the courtyard walls, a blacksmith’s hammer fell in rhythm with conspirators plotting anew.

  Calm Before Storm

  The bamboo grove reeked of lingering smoke and iron oxide. Lin Hao’s boots crunched over frost-coated leaves as the carriage passed through, the morning air sharp with the metallic tang of unresolved danger. Four Treabytes’ talons dug into his shoulder, the parrot’s infrared vision scanning for heat signatures long vanished.

  Inside the carriage, Qin Yu’s breath fogged the window as he spoke. “Third Prince? He spends days pruning peonies and playing weiqi.” His sleeve brushed against a heated copper foot warmer, releasing the burnt-honey aroma of beeswax polish.

  Lei Meng’s bowstring hummed faintly in its case—a sound like frozen silk tearing. Gu Yunle snored against the velvet cushions, his fingers twitching as if clutching phantom drumsticks.

  “Silence can be armor,” Lin Hao murmured, watching his breath crystallize in the cold. The carriage wheels creaked over a frozen rut, jostling loose a memory: the Third Prince’s rumored collection of venomous orchids, their petals said to secrete paralytic nectar.

  09:34 – Frostspire Springs

  The Frostspire Springs exhaled vapors that smelled of glacial minerals and star anise. Lin Hao’s fingertips turned bluish as he handed his academy badge to the female attendant. Her jasmine perfume clashed with the sulfurous undertones of geothermal vents beneath the springs.

  “One hour, maximum,” warned the male attendant, his voice sour as pickled ginger. He glared at Four Treabytes perched on Lin Hao’s shoulder, the parrot’s cobalt feathers reflecting prismatic hues in the icy light.

  The female attendant’s cheeks flushed pinker than dawn clouds. “Your parrot… does it need special accommodations?” Her quill scratched parchment with the rhythmic skritch-skritch of someone prolonging conversation.

  Lin Hao’s marrow ached before he even dipped a toe into the milky-blue waters. The springs’ surface rippled with fractal ice patterns, each geometric shape collapsing and reforming like living origami. He stripped to his undergarments, the air biting his exposed skin with teeth of frozen glass.

  10:12 – Bone Deep

  The first immersion felt like stepping into liquid nitrogen. Lin Hao’s scream lodged in his throat, crystallizing into a choked gasp. Frost bloomed across his chest hairs, each follicle screaming. Wolfspider scuttled to a safe rock, its ice-resistant exoskeleton clicking in reproach.

  By the third minute, his nerve endings numbed into eerie silence. The water’s pressure mimicked a hundred acupuncture needles driving into meridians. Somewhere beneath the springs’ mineral crust, ancient runes pulsed with a subsonic vibration that made molars ache.

  Memories surfaced unbidden—the Third Prince’s rumored midnight walks through poison gardens, his gloved hands caressing wolfsbane and belladonna. Lin Hao’s toes curled involuntarily, cracking ice films that re-formed instantly.

  11:03 – Observers

  The female attendant peered through the translucent barrier spell, her breath fogging the energy field. “He’s lasted forty minutes,” she whispered, awed. Beside her, the male attendant crushed a frozen juniper berry beneath his boot, releasing a bitter aroma that failed to mask his envy.

  Lin Hao’s lips had turned the blue of drowned flesh. His cultivation manual warned of this—the moment when hypothermia tricks the mind into feeling warmth. Phantom heat crawled up his thighs even as ice crystals formed on his eyelashes.

  Four Treabytes suddenly shrieked, a sound like scraping flint. Lin Hao’s eyes snapped open. Beneath the water’s opaqueness, something luminous and serpentine brushed his ankle. The springs weren’t empty.

  12:18 – Aftermath

  Lin Hao emerged shaking, his skin mottled like marble. The attendants rushed forward with heated towels that smelled of scorched cotton. His joints popped with every movement, ligaments protesting like over-tightened lute strings.

  “What’s down there?” he rasped, teeth chattering.

  The female attendant hesitated. “Ice serpents. They’re harmless unless provoked.” Her gaze dropped to the fresh scratches circling his ankle—three parallel lines glowing faintly bioluminescent.

  Wolfspider analyzed the wound secretion: paralytic enzymes mixed with trace uranium isotopes. The springs’ keepers had omitted several truths. Lin Hao dressed slowly, his mind clearer than the frozen waters. The Third Prince’s gardens, the ice serpents’ venom—all pieces in a game extending far beyond throne room intrigues.

  As he limped back to his quarters, the midday sun cast sharp shadows that seemed to twist into familiar shapes—a bowstring’s curve, a crown’s silhouette, the sinuous coil of something ancient and watchful beneath tranquil surfaces.