Lin Feng's courtyard was a mess of splintered wood and shattered jade, the Qi-powered waterwheel model barely held together under the dim glow of a cracked lantern. The Tianyu Palace's lanterns flickered beyond, a reminder of the court's judgment looming at dawn. He had one day to make the waterwheel work or face banishment, and Prince Zhao's rigged petition had tightened the noose. The Jade Pendant burned against his chest, its runes pulsing as the faint voice—"Star Key initiated." Align Will"-thusWill"-thus whispered after his blood touched it. Elder Mo's scroll tied the pendant to his mother and the archive's gate, but Li Xiyue's latest Qi crystal, glowing in the rebuilt model, felt like another gamble. Sect Master Yun's thugs were out there, and time was running out.
Lin Feng adjusted the crystal, his engineer's mind racing. The array needed a steady Qi flow to spin the gears, pulling water from spiritual springs. Last night's test worked for seconds before sparking out. The pendant's glow traced faint lines in his head—gear ratios, energy paths—like a blueprint begging to be unlocked. Will, not QI, his mother's note said. He pressed a fresh cut on his finger to wear the pendant, its runes flaring green. The model hummed, gears twitched, but the crystal flickered, and smoke curled. "Damn it," he growled, slamming the table. His crippled meridians were like a wall, and the court wouldn't wait.
A crash shattered silence. The courtyard gate splintered, wood flying as a blast of Qi tore through. Three sect thugs in crimson-claw robes stormed in, their mid-Qi condensation auras crackling. The leader, a tall man with a jagged scar, sneered. "Secret Master Yun's done playing, cripple. That pendant is ours." Lin Feng grabbed a jade shard, heart pounding. His wounds from last night throbbed, but he wouldn't go down easily.
"Try taking it," he said, his voice sharp. The leader lunged, his sword flashing. Lin Feng dove behind the model, tossing broken gear. It hit the thug's face, buying a second. The second thug blasted a Qi wave, shattering the model. Shards flew, and Lin Feng ducked, pain searing his ribs as a piece grazed him. The third thug grabbed the crate, smashing Li Xiyue's last Qi crystal. "No more toys," he laughed, raising his blade.
Lin Feng's hand gripped the pendant, its heat scalding. "Now!" he shouted, willing it to wake. A pulse shook the air, the pendant's glow blinding. The thugs staggered, shielding their eyes. Lin Feng bolted, sprinting towards the eastern archive. The gate was his only shot—the pendant's voice had come alive there. He weaved through alleys, the thugs' shouts close behind, and their qi auras were like hounds on his trail.
The archive's rusted lock gave way to his hairpin. Inside, the black jade gate loomed, its dragon carvings glinting under the moonlight. Lin Feng's breath was hitched, blood dripping from his wounds. The pendant blazed, its runes syncing with the gate's. "Align your will," the voice echoed in his mind, louder now. He pressed his bloody hand into the gate, willing it to open. A low hum rose. Runes were flaring, but the gate stayed shut. "Come on!" he yelled, desperation clawing at him.
Footsteps thundered outside. The thugs burst in, with their swords drawn. "End of the road, prince," the leader snarled, Qi crackling. Lin Feng backed against the gate, his pendant burning. A shadow moved towards the archive's edge—Su Mei, her white robes a flash in the dark. Her sword sliced through the air, disarming the leader with a single strike. She spun, kicking the second thug into a shelf, the scrolls crashing. The third swung, but her aura froze him mid-step, and a palm strike sent him sprawling.
Lin Feng panted, clutching the pendant. "You're always saving me," he said, forcing a grin.
Su Mei's eyes narrowed, but a flicker of warmth broke her ice. "You're too stubborn to die. That gate—what's it for you?"
"It's on my way out," Lin Feng said, glancing at the glowing runes. "The pendant is waking, but I'm not there yet."
She stepped closer, her sword sheathed. "Yun's men won't stop. Neither will Zhao. Your toy's broken, and dawn's coming. What's your plan?"
Lin Feng's jaw tightened. "Fix it." Fight. Win." Her lips twitched, almost a smile, before she vanished into the shadows, leaving a chill and a spark of hope.
The archives were quiet, but danger lingered. Lin Feng salvaged a scroll from the wreckage, its faded lines detailing an artificer's array—a blood-bound Qi circuit. His mother's note echoed: "Trust your heart, not your veins." He nicked his finger again, smearing blood on the pendant. Its glow surged, and the gate hummed louder, the runes pulsing in sync. "Star Key Alignment: 70%," the voice whispered, then faded. Lin Feng's heart leapt. He was close—closer than ever.
A rustle outside snapped him alert. Li Xiyue stood at the archives' entrance, her silks dark, a new Qi crystal in her hand. "You're a mess, Prince," she said, tossing it to him. "Last one. Make it count, or my investment's dust." Her jasmine scent sharpened his suspicion, but her eyes held a glint of curiosity, or something deeper.
"Why keep helping?" Lin Feng asked, catching the crystal.
"Profit," she said, smiling. "And maybe I like a prince who doesn't quit." She turned, her silhouette fading into the night.
Dawn was hours away, the court waiting to judge him. Yun's thugs, Zhao's schemes, the gate's lock—everything was closing in. Lin Feng gripped the crystal and the Star Key scroll. The pendant's heat was his only guide. He'd rebuild the waterwheel, face the throne, and make Zhao choke on his lies. One day, one shot, and he'd burn brighter than ever.