Back in his stone room, the fear was gone. Replaced by a sharp, focused curiosity.
The System. It was real. It had rules. Li Fan was a politician; rules were things to be understood, then used.
First, he needed data. The "10 Favor Points" glowed in his mind's eye when he thought of them. He concentrated. A translucent, blue-tinted menu appeared, simple and stark.
[Favor Points: 10]
[System Store: LOCKED]
[Unlock Condition: Complete First Substantive Gift.]
Substantive Gift. The hairpin adjustment was a 'service,' but not 'substantive.' It had bought him entry. Now he needed to transact.
But what was the definition of 'Empress'? Was it a title? A power level? A… state of being?
He saw a small rat scuttle along the wall. He poured a little water from his clay jug into a dish and placed it on the floor. "A gift," he whispered. The rat sniffed it, then drank.
No System message. Nothing.
He picked a wilted flower from a tiny, decorative weed growing in a crack by the window. He held it in his hand. "I gift this to Empress Huang Yue," he said aloud, feeling ridiculous.
Silence. The flower remained a flower.
So, proximity or declaration wasn't enough. The recipient had to receive it in some meaningful way. And it had to be an 'Empress.' The rat was not an empress. The flower, offered to empty air, was not received.
The rules were narrowing. Good.
The next morning, he washed his face with cold water. He practiced his expression in the faint reflection of the window glass—not confident, not fearful. Inquisitive. Useful.
He requested an audience. The guard, remembering the previous day's strange event, relayed the message with less skepticism.
He was admitted to a smaller annex chamber off the main throne room. Empress Huang Yue sat at a simple stone desk, scrolls laid out before her. Elder Liu was not present. The air was still heavy with her power, but the crushing pressure was dialed back, contained. She was in work mode.
"You return, Minister Li. My hairpin remains perfectly aligned." Her tone was dry, testing.
"Your Majesty's grace is immutable," Li Fan said, bowing. "I come not about aesthetics, but about stability. You noted my approach was unorthodox. My method is… analysis. Of structures. Of power flows." He was choosing words from two worlds, hoping they fit. "With your permission, I would like to offer a humble observation on the current… morale structure of your court. Not as an accusation, but as a diagnostic."
Her earth-colored eyes regarded him. "A diagnostic of morale. For a geological crisis."
"The mountain and the court are both your domains, Your Majesty. A weakness in one can reflect in the other. May I?"
A slow, almost imperceptible nod.
Li Fan took a breath. This was his arena. Reading people, mapping loyalties, spotting fractures. He spoke not of qi or spiritual energy, but of human—and immortal—nature.
"The crisis has created two streams," he began, his voice settling into the rhythmic cadence of a report. "The public stream: unified concern. The private stream: calculation. Those whose status is tied solely to your strength are anxious. Those with… external ties are measuring. The executions, while necessary, have caused a freeze. Initiative is stifled because failure is fatal. So, the appearance of activity is valued over effective activity." He was describing every bureaucratic panic in history. "This creates a gap. A space where the only real 'activity' happens far from the throne room, in places like the primary vein site, controlled by those with enough authority to bypass the fear."
He stopped. He had not named Elder Liu. He had simply described the ecosystem that would allow an Elder Liu to operate.
Huang Yue had stopped looking at the scrolls. She was looking directly at him. Her gaze was analytical, dissecting his words.
"You suggest I have fostered an environment of counterproductive fear."
"I suggest that in a time of crisis, clear channels for information are as vital as spiritual energy. If the only message that can safely travel upward is 'all is well,' then you will only learn that all is not well when the ground opens at your feet."
The room was silent. Then, the mechanical voice.
[Gift: Strategic Insight to Empress Huang Yue.]
[Reward: 10 Low-Grade Spirit Stones.]
A sudden, palpable weight tugged at the sleeve of his robe. He kept his face perfectly still.
Huang Yue leaned back slightly. "An interesting perspective. From a… unique vantage point. You may continue your work, Minister Li."
Dismissed again. But the words were different. Continue your work.
He bowed and left, his heart pounding a different rhythm now—the thrill of a successful, calculated risk.
Back in his room, he barred the door. He pulled out the contents of his sleeve. Ten small, smooth stones, the color of dull jade, pulsed with a faint, warm light. They hummed against his skin. Spirit Stones. The currency of this world. Power.
He set them carefully on his bed. The System menu was blinking.
[System Store: UNLOCKED.]
He focused. The menu expanded.
[Favor Points: 10]
Available Purchases:
- Low-Grade Health Pill (Restores minor physical fatigue): 5 FP
- Memory Enhancement (Temporary, 12-hour comprehension boost): 10 FP
- Basic Vein-Diagnosis Chart (Mortal-Grade): 15 FP
He had 10 Favor Points. He had 10 Spirit Stones. One was a System currency. The other was real-world wealth. He could not spend the stones in the System store.
The Memory Enhancement was a tool. A key. He needed to read those archives.
"Purchase Memory Enhancement," he thought.
[10 Favor Points Deducted.]
[Favor Points: 0]
[Effect Active: 12 Hours.]
A cool, clarity washed over his mind. It was like a fog lifting. The headache from the crystal slab's assault was gone. He thought of the archaic script from the scroll. Suddenly, the shapes resolved. They weren't just shapes; they were words. 'Convergence.' 'Ley.' 'Geomantic.' He understood them not as a scholar, but as if the basic meaning had been poured directly into his brain.
He looked at the ten spirit stones on his bed. Their glow seemed brighter. This was real wealth. A mortal with even one Low-Grade Spirit Stone was a target. He had ten.
He quickly gathered them, looking for a hiding place. He pried up a loose stone near his bed's leg, stuffed the glowing stones into the hollow, and replaced the cover. The faint light was sealed in darkness.
He sat on the bed, the cool clarity of enhanced memory sharpening his thoughts. He had a tool. He had a starting point. He had the Empress's curious attention.
And he had a bag of invisible fire under his floor. A single slip, a single glimpse of that light, and Elder Liu wouldn't need to wait for the deadline. He'd have him killed as a thief before the sun set.
The game had changed. He was no longer just trying to solve a crisis.
He was learning to trade in a market where the currency was favor, and the price of a mistake was tenfold death.