The Keep buzzed with whispers, each one a thread I could tug.
Alden had not been idle. He had spun a story, loud and vile, claiming I had scavenged corpses on the battlefield—grave robber, coward, worse than useless.
Perfect. Let him talk.
[Reforge Minor Available: Alter Veil to mimic cultivation defect tick – 1 AP]
I spent the point without hesitation.
[AP Balance: −1][Veil Adjustment Complete]
The Veil now whispered imperfection to anyone who glanced too closely—tiny fluctuations in qi flow, subtle twitches of hollow meridians. Enough to make them believe I remained weak.
I moved quietly through the courtyards, planting my own counter-narrative. A bribed scribe noted Alden's retreat during battle. A staged witness claimed he abandoned the elites in their hour of need.
The stories took root like seeds in dry soil. By evening, murmurs of my "resilient, unnoticed heroism" began to circulate. The Keep didn't see me as strong—but they began to doubt Alden.
The System remained silent, mechanical, watching only the numbers of attention and fluctuation in Fate threads.
[AP: +0 gain]
Good. Let them waste energy on suspicion. Let them stumble on their own misjudgments.
Far above, I did not see the subtle motion—a finger of golden light brushing through the clouds, touching a thread in the hall. Elder Rowan's eyes narrowed. A divination audit had begun.
I didn't flinch.
Let him pry. Let Heaven glance. Every glance I survived was another step closer to unseen power.
And I intended to survive every one.