Lin Feng's hands shook as he pieced together the shattered remains of his qi-powered waterwheel model. The courtyard was a graveyard of broken gears and jade. Dawn was hours away, and the Tianyu Palace's court would judge him at first light—prove his waterwheel could save the western provinces or face banishment. The Jade Pendant burned against his chest, its runes glowing brighter since its voice whispered, "Star Key alignment: 70%," after his blood touched it. Elder Mo's scroll and his mother's note—"Trust your heart, not your veins"—pointed to the archive's black jade gate, but Prince Zhao's sect thugs, backed by Sect Master Yun, had wrecked his last model. Li Xiyue's latest Qi crystal glowed in his hand, a risky lifeline from a woman whose jasmine scent sparked distrust.
He slotted the crystal into a rebuilt model, his engineer's mind mapping the array: gears spun by qi flow, pulling water from spiritual springs. The pendant's glow traced lines in his head—energy paths, precise alignments—but his crippled meridians blocked the final spark. He nicked his finger, blood dripping onto the pendant. Its runes flared, and the model hummed, gears turning for five seconds before sparking out. "Closer," Lin Feng muttered, his heart racing. The court was tomorrow, and he needed a miracle.
A faint hiss broke his focus. Smoke curled from the crate's corner, acrid and sharp. Lin Feng dove, yanking the crystal free as the wood blackened, a faint rune glowing on its side—a sabotage array. "Zhao," he growled, stomping out the sparks. The crystal was intact, but the rune meant someone close had betrayed him. Li Xiyue's face flashed in his mind, her smile too sharp, her timing too perfect. Or was it a sect spy in the palace? He had no time to guess.
He grabbed the model and Star Key scroll, heading for the eastern archive. The gate was his only shot—the pendant's voice grew stronger from there. The palace was quiet, but danger lurked in every shadow. He slipped through alleys, avoiding guards. The pendant's heat guided him like a beacon. The archive's lock gave way to his hairpin, and he darted inside, the black jade gate looming at the chamber's heart. Its dragon carvings glinted, the runes pulsing faintly, as if sensing his approach.
Lin Feng pressed his bloody hand into the gate, the pendant blazing. "Star Key alignment: 80%," the voice whispered; clearer now. The gate hummed, the runes glowing brighter, but it stayed shut. He scanned the Star Key scroll, finding a line about "blood and intent" binds the key to its master. More blood? He thought, hesitating. His wounds were already bleeding, his body weak.
Footsteps echoed outside—too many, too heavy. Five sect thugs in crimson-claw robes burst in, their mid-Qi condensation auras flaring like wildfire. The leader, a squat man with a missing ear, grinned. "Sect Master Yun's orders, cripple. That pendant's ours, and your time's up."
Lin Feng backed against the gate, gripping the crystal. "You'll have to kill me first," he said, his voice steady despite the pain. THE THUGS CHARTED, SHOMS FLASHED. He threw the scroll, distracting one, and swung the model's frame, smashing another's knee. Pain seared his ribs as a blade grazed him, blood soaking his robes. The pendant blazed, its hum shaking the air, and the gate's runes flared, knocking the thugs back.
A white flash cut through the dust. Su Mei's sword danced, slicing a thug's arm clean off. She spun, her aura freezing the air, and knocked out two more with precise strikes. The leader swung, but she parried, sending him crashing into a shelf, scrolls tumbling. The last thug fled, cursing. Su Mei turned to Lin Feng, her eyes sharp but laced with concern. "You're bleeding out," she said, sheathing her sword. "Why keep running to this gate?"
"It's my only shot," Lin Feng panted, pressing his hand onto the gate. The pendant's glow synced with its runes. "The pendant is waking. It can save the West."
Su Mei's gaze flicked to the gate, then to him. "You're crazy. Yun's men are endless, and Zhao's got spies everywhere. Fix your wheels, or you're dead by dawn." She stepped closer, her voice low. "You're not the cripple they think." She vanished into the shadows, her words sparking warmth in his chest.
Lin Feng slumped against the gate, blood pooling. The pendant's voice echoed: "Align intent." He smeared more blood on its runes, willing it to open. The gate shuddered, the runes blazing, but he held firm. "Star Key alignment: 85%," the voice said, then faded. He was so close, but his body was failing.
A rustle came from the entrance. Elder Mo appeared, his armor creaking, a bandage rolling in his hand. "You're a stubborn fool," he said, tossing it to Lin Feng. "Your mother bled for that pendant too. Says it chooses its master. Don't let it choose wrong."
Lin Feng wrapped his wounds, grimacing. "Why did she trust it?" he asked.
Mo's eyes darken. "She believed it held the First Emperor's secrets—power to change the world. But it cost her everything. Be careful, boy." He turned to leave, adding, "Yun's men know you're here. Move fast."
Lin Feng grabbed the crystal and scroll, the pendant's heat steadying him. Li Xiyue's voice cut through the dark, her silks swishing as she stepped inside. "Still alive, prince?" she said, eyeing his bloodied robe. "That crystal was your last shot. Don't waste my gold." Her jasmine scent sharpened his distrust, but her eyes held a flicker—worry, or a ploy?
"Thanks," Lin Feng said, his voice hard. "But no more rigged cages."
Her laugh was sharp. "Smart. Win tomorrow, and I'll keep betting on you." She left her motives a riddle.
The court waited, Zhao's trap tightening. Lin Feng gripped the pendant, its glow was his only light. Dawn was coming, and he'd face it with fire—or fall trying.