Elias now had Mei Lin firmly, if unknowingly, within his fabricated taskforce. Her fervent idealism, a powerful engine, was now directed by his every subtle command. He immediately put her to work, feeding her carefully constructed "leads" about internal Bureau corruption, ostensibly part of their secret mission. This kept her occupied, while Elias pursued the most pressing mystery: the identity of the Phantom User, the subtle manipulator who left no trace.
He returned to the anomalies he had discovered, the exquisitely precise edits that differed from both his own style and the Naga's illusions. He cross-referenced every case the Phantom User had touched, every subtle alteration, every hidden promotion. He analyzed the beneficiaries, looking for any pattern, any common thread.
The breakthrough came late one night, fueled by the last of Mei Lin's Sylvan tea, its borrowed clarity focusing his mind like a laser. The pattern was undeniable, stark, and utterly damning: the Phantom User only protected cultivators linked to the Alchemists' Guild. Every single manipulated record, every hidden failure, every accelerated promotion, involved an individual with direct, deep, or familial ties to the powerful Guild. The high-ranking cultivator whose tribulation record had been altered? A Guild scion. The minor noble whose hidden debts were erased? A major Guild investor.
The theory solidified into an terrifying certainty: the Phantom was a Guild-aligned Sage or, even more chillingly, a Sutra Corps mole placed there by the Guild to ensure their interests were paramount. The Alchemists' Guild, ostensibly a neutral economic and alchemical power, was not just influencing the Ledger; they were actively subverting it, using their hidden operative to shape the destinies of their favored few. And Commander Valera, with her subtle Guild ties and unsettling smile, suddenly made perfect, sinister sense.
Elias felt a surge of cold fury. The Guild wasn't just observing him; they were playing a grander game, using the Ledger to install their people into positions of power. And he had been unwittingly dancing to their tune, distracting the Sentinels and the Bureau while they consolidated their hidden influence.
The danger was no longer theoretical. He had identified a major player, a direct threat connected to the very organization that had tried to trap him and was now subtly overseeing the Sutra Corps.
He spent the rest of the night devising his next move, a way to expose the Guild's manipulations without revealing his hand. He meticulously crafted a new, high-risk plan, one that would force the Guild into the open.
He finally left the Bureau just as dawn was breaking, the city still sleepy and quiet. The air was cool, fresh. He walked briskly, his mind racing through the calculations of his impending gambit.
He returned to his apartment to find his front door subtly ajar. Not forced, but carefully opened, then left with just enough carelessness to be noticed. His heart slammed against his ribs. He pushed the door open slowly, cautiously.
His apartment was in perfect order. No overturned furniture, no obvious signs of a struggle. But everything was subtly different. A scroll on his desk had been moved a hair to the left. A book on his shelf was angled incorrectly. A faint scent of ozone, like recently discharged Prana, lingered in the air.
His apartment had been searched while he was out. Someone knew where he lived. Someone knew he was digging. The Phantom User, or someone connected to them, had found him. The game had just become terrifyingly personal, extending beyond the digital realm and into his physical sanctuary.