The taste of last night's visions still clung to my teeth—blood and smoke and something darker. I rolled my shoulders, feeling the weight of the demon's gift coiled beneath my skin like a second skeleton. Today would be my first true test.
My bootsteps echoed too loudly in the empty corridor. The palace felt different now—not just a place of politics, but a living thing that watched with a thousand hidden eyes. I could almost hear the stones whispering as I passed.
He's coming.
The forgotten son.
The one who speaks to shadows.
The war council had already begun when I entered. My brothers stood in their usual constellation of arrogance—Wu Kang resplendent in his gilded armor, Wu Jin a silent blade in the corner, Wu Taian lounging against a pillar with a predator's smile.
And at the head of the chamber, flanking the Emperor's useless throne, stood my father.
The Lord Protector's black armor drank the torchlight.
"—thirty thousand of Golden Mandate troops massing at the river," the war minister Wu Xian was saying, his jowls trembling. "They've already burned three villages. Took our men as slaves. Defiled our women. The cries of children can be heard within thousands of leagues"
Wu Kang slammed a fist on the table. "Then let me crush them! I'll mount their heads on the city gates by week's end."
"Fool." Wu Jin didn't raise his voice, but the word cut like a scalpel. "March north, and the Southern Kingdom will be feasting in our halls before you can turn around."
The ministers erupted into squabbling. I watched my father's face—the slight twitch of his scarred lip, the way his fingers drummed once, twice against his sword hilt. A silent countdown to violence.
I stepped forward.
"The northern rebellion is a knife at our throat," I said, "but the Southern Kingdom holds the blade."
Silence fell like a headsman's axe.
Wu Taian chuckled. "Listen to our little scholar. Did you read that in a book?"
I ignored him, keeping my eyes locked on my father. "While we've been watching the rebels, Southern agents have been buying up every grain shipment along the border. Their 'merchants' suddenly take great interest in our fortifications. Their envoys request suspiciously specific travel permits."
The trade minister sputtered. "Circumstantial!"
I smiled and reached to adjust the map before him. My fingers brushed his wrist.
-a moonlit meeting, Southern gold changing hands, promises whispered over wine-
I withdrew my hand. "Minister Zhao, does the Southern King still pay you in silver? Or has your betrayal earned you an upgrade to gold?"
The color drained from his face.
My father moved for the first time—a single step forward that silenced the room more effectively than any shout. "Prince Wu An takes command of the western garrison. Wu Kang will handle the eastern garrison. Both of you are to prepare the war up north and await my orders. The rest of you are dismissed."
As the ministers scrambled to leave, my father's gauntleted hand closed around my arm. His grip could crush bone.
"You've been busy," he murmured, too low for others to hear.
I met his gaze. "You taught me to be."
For a heartbeat, I saw something in his eyes—not approval, not quite, but the shadow of it. Then he released me with a shove. "My chambers. One hour." The weight of his attention lingered like a brand as I walked away. As one hour passed, I walked towards the my Father's chamber, the Lord Protector and King of the Northern Kingdom. His private chambers smelled of steel and sandalwood. No gilded nonsense here—just a warrior's sanctuary. Maps of the empire covered every wall, marked with troop movements and supply lines. A half-polished sword lay across the desk, its edge gleaming in the lamplight.
I entered without knocking.
Father stood before the largest map, his back to me, shoulders like mountain cliffs beneath his black robes. He didn't turn. "Close the door." The lock clicked like a guillotine.
"You played the court well today," he said, tracing a finger along the northern border. "But clever words won't stop sixty thousand rebels."
I stepped forward, my shadow stretching long across the war table. "Then let me show you what else I can do."
From my sleeve, I produced three bamboo slips—reports from my personal network of spies, compiled through sleepless nights and the Crimson Gaze's whispers.
"The Golden Mandate's weakness isn't their armies," I said, placing the first slip on the map. "It's their warlords." I tapped three locations along the Red River. "General Hoang resents being subordinate to a scholar-official. Colonel Li still grieves his executed son. And here—Commander Wen has been sJinming supplies for years."
Father's scarred hand hovered over the markers. "You suggest we turn them."
"Better." I placed the second slip. "We make them turn on each other."
I unfolded a forged letter—my own handiwork, down to the perfect imitation of the Golden Mandate's seal. "An order from their high command, commanding General Hoang's execution for treason. Delivered to Colonel Li by a 'loyal' courier."
For the first time, Father turned to face me. The lamplight carved deep canyons in his scarred face. "And when they discover the ruse?"
I smiled and placed the final slip—a crude drawing of the rebel supply depot near Blue Forest River. "By then, it won't matter."
Father studied the sketch. His calloused finger paused over the river's curve. "The tides."
"Yes. We strike when the waters recede. Their supplies will be stranded on the mudflats." I moved three of his markers into flanking positions. "Burn their food, and their alliance burns with it."
The silence stretched. Somewhere in the palace, a bell tolled.
Finally, Father reached into his desk and produced a seal—the twin dragons of the Lord Protector's personal authority. He pressed it into my palm. The metal burned like ice.
"I'll give you ten days. Take the Black Tiger Battalion," he said. "Prove your strategy works in the field."
I closed my fingers around the seal. Power thrummed through my veins—not just the demon's gift now, but real, tangible authority.
Father's hand clamped onto my shoulder. "But know this—if you fail, I'll execute you myself."
I met his gaze without flinching. "Then I won't fail."
As I turned to leave, the lamplight caught my reflection in the polished door—just for an instant, my eyes flashed crimson. The demonic smile followed me into the shadows as the games have truly begun.