## Chapter 10: Imperial Reflections and Accidental Ambushes
The Imperial Reflection Garden wasn't a garden. It was a pocket dimension woven from distilled serenity. Floating islands of luminous jade drifted in an expanse of liquid sky that shifted from dawn peach to twilight indigo. Trees sculpted from solidified moonlight dripped blossoms of pure starlight onto pathways of compressed nebula dust. The air hummed with a profound, almost drowsy peace, a stark contrast to the electric tension crackling around Wang Ling as Envoy Lian practically marched him across a bridge of solidified aurora borealis. Lady Chen followed, clutching the used Earl Grey tea bag like a holy relic, her jade tablet practically steaming from frantic notation.
Wang Ling felt like a stain on perfection. His worn boots scuffed the nebulous path. Fluffy's synthetic fur seemed garish against the natural radiance. The lingering scent of bergamot on his breath felt like sacrilege. He'd reduced a Celestial Scholar to existential tears with *breakfast tea*. Now he faced the Emperor. His only plan was to keep his mouth shut and hope the System didn't gift him a whoopee cushion mid-audience.
They reached the heart of the garden: a circular platform floating amidst waterfalls of liquid light. At its center, seated on a simple cushion of woven starlight strands, was the Azure Dragon Emperor.
He wasn't what Wang Ling expected. No towering figure clad in cosmic armor. No blinding aura. The Emperor looked... tired. He appeared middle-aged, with kind, weary eyes the color of deep space and short, silvering hair. He wore simple grey robes that seemed to absorb the surrounding light rather than reflect it. His presence wasn't overwhelming; it was *encompassing*. Like the garden itself, he radiated a profound, ancient calm, yet Wang Ling felt the weight of galaxies in his gaze. This was the eye of the celestial storm, the calm point around which the immense power of the Court revolved.
"Envoy Lian," the Emperor's voice was soft, like distant wind chimes, yet it carried effortlessly. "Your report precedes you. Master Kael's... experience... has also been relayed." His eyes, infinitely deep, settled on Wang Ling. "And this is the source of the transience infusion?"
Wang Ling froze. *Transience infusion?* He meant the *tea*.
"Emperor," Envoy Lian bowed deeply, her voice stripped of its usual ice, replaced by rigid formality. "This is Wang Ling, mortal of the Verdant Spring Province. His actions, detailed in my report and Scholar Lan's observations, defy conventional understanding. The Void negation, the Chaos sheltering... and the... beverage."
Lady Chen stepped forward, bowing lower. "Esteemed Emperor, I present the catalyst." She carefully held out the damp, crumpled Earl Grey tea bag on her jade tablet. "Residual essence remains. Master Kael described it as... an elegy."
The Emperor extended a hand. The tea bag levitated gently from the tablet and floated towards him. He didn't touch it. He simply observed it, his weary eyes seeming to peer into its very molecular structure, and perhaps beyond, into the concept of "Earl Grey" itself. The silence stretched, thick with anticipation. Wang Ling could hear his own heartbeat thudding against his ribs.
Finally, the Emperor spoke, his gaze shifting from the tea bag back to Wang Ling. "You brewed this... 'tea'?"
Wang Ling nodded mutely, then remembered his manners. "Y-yes, Your... Imperial Majesty? Just... hot water. And the bag. Wait." He fumbled in his System Inventory, pulling out the entire pack of Earl Grey tea bags. The familiar red and gold box looked absurdly cheap against the cosmic backdrop. "See? Just... tea bags. From home. Earl Grey. It's... common?"
The Emperor's eyes lingered on the box. "Common." He repeated the word thoughtfully. "A common vessel for an uncommon truth. Master Kael perceived the inherent melancholy of mortal existence within it. The fleeting nature of all things, even celestial aspirations." He paused, his gaze deepening, seeming to look *through* Wang Ling. "Yet... you perceive only... refreshment?"
Wang Ling swallowed. "It... tastes nice? Sort of citrusy? Calming?" He was digging his own grave with a teaspoon.
"Calming," the Emperor mused. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. It wasn't mocking; it was profoundly sad. "To you, it is a balm. To a being steeped in the illusion of eternity, it is a mirror reflecting the inevitable void." He gestured, and the single tea bag drifted back to Lady Chen's tablet. The pack remained in Wang Ling's hand. "This dissonance, Wang Ling... this is the heart of your anomaly. You wield the fundamental forces of existence – cohesion, negation, shelter, entropy – as readily as a mortal stirs sugar into their cup, utterly unaware of the cosmic weight in your hands."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice softening further. "Tell me, Wang Ling of the Mortal Dust. What do you seek? Power? Knowledge? Immortality? Or... simply to return to your stable?"
The question, asked with such gentle sincerity, cut through Wang Ling's panic. He thought of Stompy and Twitch, of the rhythmic scrape of the shovel, of Bin's nervous porridge deliveries, even of Old Man Fu's bewildering reverence. He thought of his Gameboy, his half-finished Pokémon journey. He missed the *simplicity*, terrifying as it was.
"I... I just want to go back, Your Majesty," he whispered, his voice thick with unexpected emotion. "I don't understand any of this. The pins, the umbrella... the tea making people sad... I just fix things. Or try to. I'm not... not whatever you think I am. I just want to be... ordinary." He clutched Fluffy through his robe.
The Emperor watched him, the sadness in his eyes deepening. "Ordinary," he echoed. "A profound desire in a realm built upon the extraordinary. Your very presence, Wang Ling, your innocent interaction with the fabric of reality, challenges the foundations upon which empires like ours are built. You are a reminder that all power, all grandeur, is ultimately... transient." He sighed, the sound like a distant star collapsing. "This frightens them." He gestured vaguely, encompassing the unseen Court beyond the garden. "It frightens even Master Kael. The Void Cultivators you encountered sensed it too – a power that unmakes their essence not through force, but through... mundane inevitability."
Before the Emperor could continue, a subtle chime resonated through the garden, discordant against the tranquil hum. An image flickered into existence beside the Emperor – another Celestial official, looking harried.
"Emperor! Forgive the intrusion. The Void delegation... they've arrived early at the Hall of Celestial Accord. Grand Arbiter Vox is demanding immediate audience regarding the captured Void Cultivator. He claims... provocation." The official's gaze flickered nervously towards Wang Ling.
Envoy Lian stiffened. "Provocation? We were attacked!"
"The captured one," the official clarified. "The one whose Void essence was... excised. They claim the method used constitutes a forbidden act of spiritual mutilation. They demand the perpetrator be surrendered."
All eyes turned to Wang Ling. The perpetrator? He'd held up safety pins!
The Emperor's weary expression hardened slightly. "Grand Arbiter Vox thrives on provocation. Inform him the audience will proceed as scheduled. We are concluding an important reflection." The image vanished.
The tranquility of the garden felt fragile now, strained. The Emperor looked back at Wang Ling. "You see? Your 'ordinariness' disrupts the delicate balance of extraordinary powers. Returning you to your stable, while your heart's desire, may not be the safest path. For you, or for Verdant Spring." He paused, his gaze thoughtful. "The Azure Dragon Court could offer you protection. Sanctuary. And perhaps... understanding. Master Kael and Scholar Lan are uniquely positioned to study your... relationship... with these mundane conduits of cosmic law. It could be enlightening. For all of us."
Wang Ling's heart sank. Sanctuary sounded like a gilded cage. Study sounded like dissection. He opened his mouth, a desperate refusal forming on his lips, when Envoy Lian stepped forward.
"Emperor, with respect, the Void delegation requires your presence. And perhaps..." her silver eyes flickered to Wang Ling, "...the anomaly should not be exposed to Void influence prematurely. The Hall of Accord is heavily warded, but Grand Arbiter Vox is unpredictable. I recommend Scholar Lan escort him to the Stellar Archives annex for preliminary familiarization while we attend the audience. A neutral, secure location."
The Emperor considered this, then nodded. "A prudent suggestion. Scholar Lan, see to it. Ensure Wang Ling's comfort." He rose with effortless grace. "We will speak further, Wang Ling. Consider the Court's offer. Safety often lies not in obscurity, but in comprehended power." With that, he, Envoy Lian, and her attendants shimmered and vanished, leaving Wang Ling alone with Lady Chen in the suddenly immense, silent garden.
Lady Chen let out a breath Wang Ling hadn't realized she was holding. "Well," she said, turning to him with a strained smile. "That was... eventful. The Stellar Archives annex it is. Less daunting than the main halls, I assure you. And hopefully free of existential tea crises." She gestured towards another shimmering pathway.
Wang Ling followed numbly. The Emperor's words echoed: *Safety often lies not in obscurity, but in comprehended power.* But Wang Ling didn't *want* comprehended power. He wanted incomprehensible normalcy. The Stellar Archives annex sounded like another fancy prison.
The annex was a smaller, quieter complex adjacent to the main celestial library. Towering shelves stretched into an illusory sky, holding not books, but crystalline orbs, shimmering scrolls that floated gently, and artifacts humming with contained knowledge. The air smelled of ozone and old parchment. Attendants, humanoid constructs of light and crystal, moved silently, retrieving and replacing orbs.
Lady Chen led him to a secluded reading nook – a comfortable chair floating beside a table of solidified moonlight overlooking a miniature galaxy swirling in a containment field. "Wait here, Wang Ling. I must register our presence and retrieve some reference orbs pertaining to... anomalous material interactions. I won't be long." She glided away, leaving him alone amidst the whispering knowledge of the cosmos.
Wang Ling sank into the floating chair. It adjusted perfectly to his shape. He pulled Fluffy out, holding the plush dog tightly. "Just you and me again, Fluffy," he murmured. "Stuck in a library full of glowy space orbs. How did we get here?" He looked at the miniature galaxy swirling nearby, feeling a crushing loneliness. He missed Earth. He missed his stable. He even missed the threat of Crimson-Horned Boars. At least they made sense.
*Ding!*
**[Daily Check-in Available!]**
**[Host is in a Designated Repository of Celestial Knowledge!]**
**[Contextual Reward Unlocked!]**
**[Would you like to Check-in now?]**
Wang Ling closed his eyes. "Sure. Hit me. Maybe a book on 'How to Disappear Completely'? Or 'Celestial Customs for Dummies'?"
**[Daily Check-in Complete!]**
**[Reward: 1 x Pair of Foam Earplugs (Noise Reduction Rating 33dB), 1 x Pack of Graphite Pencils (HB, 12 Count), 1 x Pocket-Sized Notebook (Lined)]**
Earplugs. Pencils. A notebook. Wang Ling almost laughed. Perfect. For taking notes on his impending dissection. Or maybe blocking out the sound of cosmic scholars crying over tea. He stored them away, the graphite smell a tiny, grounding whiff of normalcy. He pulled out his Gameboy. Combusken needed training. Hoenn was a simpler world.
He was engrossed in a battle against a particularly stubborn Kecleon when he felt it – not a sound, but a sudden, chilling *absence* of sound. The gentle hum of the archives, the soft whisper of the floating scrolls, even the faint buzz of the miniature galaxy... silenced. The light seemed to dim, leaching color from the crystalline orbs. A figure stepped out from between two towering shelves, not one of the light-construct attendants.
This figure was clad in rippling shadows that seemed to drink the light. No face was visible, only a deeper darkness within the hood. An aura of utter nullification radiated from it – not Void Essence like the assassins, but something colder, more absolute. *Oblivion*. A Void Sentinel, a high-level agent of the delegation, slipped past the wards. Its target wasn't the archives. It was the anomaly that had unmade its comrade.
Wang Ling looked up from his Gameboy, his blood turning to ice. The figure raised a hand. No weapon formed. The space *around* Wang Ling simply... *ceased*. Air, light, sound, reality itself dissolved into perfect, chilling nothingness. A sphere of pure Oblivion expanded silently, rapidly, engulfing the reading nook, the floating chair, the miniature galaxy, and Wang Ling himself. It wasn't an attack; it was an erasure. The Sentinel aimed to negate the anomaly from existence entirely.
Panic seized Wang Ling. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't even scream. The Oblivion sphere touched his skin. He felt an instant, soul-deep cold, a terrifying unraveling. He was going to be *unwritten*.
His hand, clutching Fluffy, spasmed in terror. His other hand, holding the Gameboy, jerked. His thumb mashed the buttons randomly. Combusken used "Double Kick" on the Kecleon. The tiny speaker emitted a frantic, digital *bleep-bleep-bleep!*
**The sound pierced the perfect silence of Oblivion.**
It wasn't loud. But within the absolute nullity the Sentinel had created, the simple, mundane digital chirp of a Gameboy button press was an *impossibility*. A violation of the Oblivion field's fundamental law: *Nothing Exists Here*.
The sphere of erasure *stuttered*. Like a glitch in reality. The relentless expansion faltered. The chilling cold recoiled infinitesimally from the source of the sound.
Wang Ling, on the precipice of dissolution, acted on pure, desperate instinct born of the factory floor – when machines jammed, you sometimes just had to hit them. He couldn't reach the Sentinel. But he had the earplugs. The *foam* earplugs. Noise Reduction Rating 33dB. Utterly useless against cosmic erasure... unless the erasure field was momentarily vulnerable to *unexpected sound*?
He yanked the foam earplugs from his Inventory. Not to put them *in* his ears. He threw them. Not at the Sentinel. He threw them *into* the heart of the faltering Oblivion sphere expanding around him.
Two small, beige, cylindrical pieces of squishy foam sailed through the dissolving air and vanished into the core of the nullity field.
**Reality hiccuped again.**
The Oblivion sphere didn't explode. It... *imploded*. With a sound like a universe gasping, the sphere of absolute nothingness violently *contracted* around the two tiny earplugs. The foam, infused with the simple concept of "blocking unwanted sound," met the concept of "absolute silence/erasure." Within the field's own rules, the earplugs were an *unwanted sound* that couldn't be blocked *because they were the only thing existing within the nullity*. The paradox was instantaneous and catastrophic for the meticulously constructed Oblivion field.
The sphere winked out of existence. Not dispelled. *Consumed* by its own internal contradiction. The air rushed back in with a thunderclap. Light and sound flooded back. Wang Ling gasped, collapsing back into the floating chair, coughing, the Gameboy still clutched in his hand, its frantic *bleeps* now loud in the restored noise of the archives.
The Void Sentinel staggered back, visible for a split second – a gaunt figure beneath the shadows, its form flickering violently. Its control shattered, its Oblivion field negated by cheap foam and a video game sound effect, it stared at Wang Ling with eyes wide with disbelief and... fear? Then, before the archive's security wards could fully react, it dissolved into swirling shadows and vanished, leaving only a lingering chill and the faint smell of ozone.
Wang Ling sat trembling, staring at the spot where the earplugs had vanished, taking the terrifying nothingness with them. He looked at the Gameboy, still chirping. He looked at Fluffy, clutched in his white-knuckled grip.
"Bleep," he whispered hoarsely.
The silence that followed was broken by the rapid tapping of footsteps. Lady Chen rushed into the nook, her face pale, followed by two shimmering archive guardians, their weapons drawn. She took in the scene: Wang Ling shaking but unharmed, the disturbed air, the residual chill.
"Wang Ling! What happened? We felt a massive negation spike! A Void signature!"
Wang Ling pointed a trembling finger at the empty space. "A... a shadow guy. Made... nothing. Cold nothing. It was... eating everything." He held up the Gameboy. "I... I pressed buttons. It made noise. The nothing... hiccuped." He gestured vaguely. "Then I threw... these?" He held up the empty plastic sleeve for the earplugs. "Foam earplugs? And the nothing... sucked itself inside out? And the shadow guy... poofed?" He sounded utterly deranged.
Lady Chen stared at him. She looked at the empty earplug sleeve. She looked at the Gameboy. She looked at the spot where the Sentinel vanished. Her jade tablet was already humming, recording residual energy signatures: *Paradoxical Collapse of Oblivion Field. Catalyst: Acoustic Anomaly (digital) and... Polymer Noise Dampeners?*
The archive guardians scanned the area, their expressions bewildered. They found no trace of the Sentinel, only the lingering echo of a catastrophic reality failure centered on the reading nook.
Lady Chen slowly approached Wang Ling. Her earlier academic fervor was replaced by something deeper, more primal. Awe, yes, but laced with a dawning horror at the sheer, unpredictable scale of the power she was studying. He hadn't just defended himself; he'd weaponized *earplugs* against high-level Void negation.
"Acoustic anomaly and noise dampeners," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "You turned silence against itself." She looked at Wang Ling, who was now trying to calm his virtual Combusken. "The Emperor offered sanctuary, Wang Ling. After this... it might not be an offer. It might be a necessity. For everyone."
Wang Ling looked up from his Gameboy, his eyes wide with residual terror and profound confusion. Sanctuary in the gilded cage of the Azure Dragon Court? After facing shadowy erasers? It felt less like safety and more like trading one existential threat for another, infinitely more bewildering one. And all he had to show for it was a missing pair of earplugs and a pocket full of pencils. The adventure wasn't just terrifying; it was becoming a surreal nightmare where the only defense was absurdity itself.