Lin Feng's hands steadied as he fitted the last gear into his rebuilt qi-powered waterwheel model. The courtyard was a chaos of broken wood and jade shards under a fading lantern. Dawn was an hour away, and the Tianyu Palace's court would judge him—prove his waterwheel could save the western provinces or face execution for treason. The Jade Pendant burned against his chest, its runes blazing since its voice declared, "Star Key alignment: 90%," after his blood sparked it at the archive's gate. Prince Zhao's frame-up, backed by Sect Master Yun's crimson-claw sect, had planted false evidence in his courtyard. Li Xiyue's final Qi crystal, glowing in the model, was his only shot, but her jasmine-scented aid felt like a coiled snake. His mother's words—"Trust your heart, not your veins"—pushed him forward, blood and will being his last weapons.
He slotted the crystal into the model, his engineer's mind sharp despite his wounds. The array channeled Qi to spin gears, pulling water from spiritual springs. Last night's test had spun for ten seconds, the pendant's glow guiding his hands with faint blueprints—energy flows, precise alignments. He smeared Blood from his bandaged arm onto the pendant, its runes flaring green. The model whirred, gears turning smoothly, water sloshing in a test bucket for twenty seconds before the crystal flickered. "So close," Lin Feng whispered, her heart pounding. His crippled meridians blocked the final spark, but the pendant's voice was louder now. One more push.
A rustle broke his focus. Shadows moved beyond the courtyard gate, too quiet for guards. Lin Feng grabbed the model and Star Key scroll, slipping into the palace alleys. The archive's black jade gate was his only chance—the pendant's voice thrived there. The palace was silent, but Sect Master Yun's thugs haunted every corner. He reached the archive, picked up the lock with his hairpin, and darted inside. The gate loomed, its dragon carvings glinting, its runes pulsing in sync with the pendant's glow.
Lin Feng pressed his bloody hand on the gate, willing it to open. "Star Key alignment: 95%," the voice boomed in his mind. The gate shuddered. Runes blazed, and a faint click echoed, but it was held shut. More blood? He thought, slicing his palm deeper, pain searing. Blood dripped onto the pendant, its glow blinding. The gate's hum grew, shaking the floor.
A cold laugh cuts through. "Persistent, aren't you, cripple?" A sect elder in crimson-claw robes stepped out of the shadows, his Late-Qi Condensation aura like a storm. His eyes locked on the pendant. "Secret Master Yun wants that relic. Hand it over, or I will carve it for you."
Lin Feng's heart raced, blood pooling at his feet. "You'll have to kill me," he said, gripping the crystal. The elder's sword flashed, the wi crackled. Lin Feng dove behind a shelf, tossing scrolls to slow him down. The blade sliced his shoulder, blood spraying, but he stumbled to the gate, slamming his bloody palm against it. The pendant blazed, and the gate's runes roared, a shockwave knocking the elder back.
The elder recovered, sneering. "No gate saves you now." He lunged, his sword aimed at Lin Feng's chest. A white flash streaked through Su Mei, her sword clashing with the elder's, sparks flying. Her icy aura froze all the air, and she struck, forcing him to retreat. "Run, fool!" she snapped, parrying another blow. Lin Feng hesitated, but her glare pushed him. He grabbed the crystal and scroll, bolting for the exit as Su Mei held the elder at bay, her sword followed by a blur.
He stumbled into an alley, blood soaking his robe. The pendant's heat was his only guide. The model was back in the courtyard, but the crystal and scroll were enough. He hid in a garden, catching his breath. Su Mei appeared, her robes stained with blood—not hers. "You're insane," she said, her voice sharp but her eyes soft. "That elder is Yun's right hand. The gate is waking, but you're out of time."
Lin Feng clutched the pendant, its glow was steady. "It's the Star Key," he said. "It'll save me tomorrow."
Su Mei's lips twitched, almost like a smile. "If you live that long. Zhao's spies framed you for treason. The court's rigged." She paused, her voice low. "Don't make me save you again." She vanished, leaving a spark of warmth in his chest.
Lin Feng limped to his courtyard, finding Elder Mo waiting, his armor glinting. "You're bleeding like your mother did," Mo said, tossing a bandage. "That gate's a death trap. She warned me—blood wakes the Star Key, but it takes everything."
Lin Feng wrapped around his wounds, grimacing. "Why did she risk it?"
Mo's eyes darkened. "To change the world." The pendant's tied to the First Emperor's artificers—secrets even Yun fears. Don't let it consume you." He left, his warning heavy.
Lin Feng rebuilt the model, his hands shaking but precise. He slotted the crystal, smearing blood on the pendant. Its runes flared, and the gears spun, with water flowing for thirty seconds before sparking. It's working, he thought, grinning. The pendant's voice echoed: "Intent nearly aligned." Dawn was breaking, the court waiting.
Li Xiyue appeared, her silks rustling, a small jade vial in her hand. "Healing salve, Prince," she said, tossing it. "You're a wreck, but I'm still betting on you. Win today, or my gold's gone." Her jasmine scent sharpened his distrust, but her eyes held a flicker—genuine, or a lie?
"Thanks," Lin Feng said, her voice hard. "No more traps, Lady Li."
Her laugh was sharp. "No traps, just business." She left a puzzle unsolved.
The palace bells tolled, summoning him to judgment. Zhao's frame-up, Yun's elder, the gate's hum—Lin Feng gripped the pendant, its heat being his fire. He'd face the throne, prove his worth, and make them choke on their lies.