In the Imperial Palace of the Li Empire, snow was falling quietly over the jade rooftops. The wind howled through the courtyards, shaking the red lanterns as if even the heavens felt uneasy.
Deep inside the Scholar's Quarter, Wen Zixing lit a single candle. The faint flame quivered as he opened a bundle of old documents. Everywhere else in the palace, nobles drank wine and whispered about the mysterious "General Mo Han" who had saved the northern border. But Wen Zixing knew better.
He dipped his brush in ink and began to write. His calm face hid sharp purpose. Ling Chen, I have found a way to shield you.
Since his return to the capital, he had spent every night piecing together reports. He moved like a ghost—never staying in one place too long, never speaking openly. Too many eyes watched him. The ministers who once pitied him now treated him as a failure. The powerful clans whispered that he was mad to still care about the exiled Fifth Prince.
But Wen Zixing saw what others missed. The wording in Mo Han's report. The timing of the beast attack. The sudden silence from the emperor afterwards. Only one conclusion fits everything. Ling Chen was alive, hiding his identity behind that mysterious general.
Now he just needed to make sure the world looked the other way.
In the East Palace, the Second Prince, Li Rongjie, leaned lazily against a carved dragon chair while a cup of warm liquor steamed in his hand. "Scholar Wen," he said, his tone half-amused, half-suspicious, "it's surprising to see you again. Weren't you dismissed for offending the court?"
Wen Zixing bowed humbly. "Your Highness, even a dismissed man may still serve the empire. I come only with a suggestion that could strengthen your reputation—and weaken your rivals."
That caught Li Rongjie's attention. "Go on."
"Your Highness must have heard of the recent border victory."
The prince smirked. "Of course. Everywhere, people praise 'General Mo Han', even though none know where he came from. My father plans to summon him for promotion."
"Exactly." Wen Zixing lowered his voice. "But before that happens, you could act first—recommend a name tied to that border unit. Someone is known as incompetent. A discarded pawn. Then if trouble appears, the credit and the blame both fall there."
Li Rongjie frowned slightly. "You mean...?"
"Send a request for Ling Chen—currently registered as a wandering mercenary—to join the border troops as a low-ranking soldier. Tell the court it's charity for a fallen prince, a reminder of your mercy. The officials will like it, and Father will nod to it. But that name, that reputation, will make any future problem at the border look like his fault."
The prince tapped his fan lightly, a crooked smile forming. "So if the border flares again, Father's attention lands on Ling Chen—the exiled fool—and not on me?"
"Precisely," said Wen Zixing, keeping his face blank.
To the prince, this plan sounded perfect. To Wen Zixing, it was the shield Ling Chen needed. No one would suspect an exiled prince forced into a soldier's rags. He would be safe from notice, given time to grow quietly while the nobility sneered.
"Interesting," murmured the prince. He sipped his drink, eyes glinting. "Fine. I'll have my adviser write a petition tomorrow. The Fifth Prince returns to serve as a foot soldier—how poetic."
He laughed loudly, the sound echoing through the hall. Wen Zixing hid his own faint smile behind polite bowed lips.
When he left the East Palace, snow covered his shoulders. He looked up at the dark towers of the city and whispered under his breath, "Forgive me, Your Highness. To save you, I must let them step on your name for a while longer."
Days later, the rumour spread through the imperial city like wildfire.
"The Emperor has approved the Second Prince's petition."
"The exiled Fifth Prince, Li Qingfeng—now called Ling Chen—will join the border as a soldier under General Mo Han."
"Poetic justice! A fallen prince returns as a commoner."
Laughter followed the news. The nobles toasted in their halls, pleased that one rival had fallen further. The princes smirked, knowing they had turned shame into entertainment.
But in the shadows of an abandoned courtyard, Wen Zixing knelt before a small formation carved into the ground. Light pulsed from it softly—the symbol of the Myth System binding resonances between distant souls.
"Ding! Loyal subject Wen Zixing—Faith Level 85. Mission 'Protection Via Deception' completed successfully. The host's identity interference was upgraded. Recognition Risk: Low."
When the mechanical voice ended, he allowed himself a small breath of relief.
"So the system itself approves," he murmured. "Good."
Yet his work had only begun. Through quiet favours, he started planting stories in the palace. A rumour here, a seemingly meaningless scroll left in a record room, a comment whispered to a servant—all threads leading away from Ling Chen's true identity.
At the same time, he studied the movements of the First and Fourth Princes. Both were preparing to send envoys north, claiming "inspection missions". They wanted to uncover who General Mo Han really was.
Wen Zixing sent out coded letters that night using merchant caravans. Each message was short.
North wind rising. Hide deeper. Eyes from the capital are moving your way.
He trusted the Myth System to deliver them.
Meanwhile, in the Emperor's private chamber, the old man sat staring at the memorial tablet inscribed with his children's names. His attendants had left, and only a single candle burned beside him.
He traced a finger across the familiar characters of Qingfeng.
"You were always kind-hearted," he whispered to himself. "Too kind for this throne. If only kindness ruled kingdoms instead of blades."
Outside, snow kept falling. Somewhere in that storm, invisible strings of fate tightened.
Back in his small room, Wen Zixing cleaned his brush and sat cross‑legged before the dim candle. He looked exhausted, but his eyes glowed with quiet determination. The palace might see him as a fallen scholar, but tonight he felt closer to his purpose than ever.
"Sleep well, Ling Chen," he murmured. "The world sees only a pawn. But pawns, when played well, reach the other side and become something far greater."
The candle flickered once, then went out, leaving nothing but the sound of the distant wind. In that darkness, a single blue line from the Myth System shimmered faintly—proof that loyalty, even in the heart of intrigue, could reach across worlds.