The map of the siphoning thread burned in Li Fan's mind. He waited until the deep watch of the night, when the palace was a silhouette against the stars and only the occasional patrol broke the silence. He slipped from his room, a shadow in shadows, moving toward the administrative wing.
He couldn't follow the energy thread visually. But the Seal on his palm throbbed like a silent compass when he moved in the right direction. He navigated by feel, through service corridors and across deserted courtyards. The thread seemed to converge near the old Imperial Well, a historic site now mostly ceremonial, surrounded by a ring of carved stone.
He saw it ahead, a dark circle in the moonlight. He crept closer, his every sense screaming. This was foolish. But he had to know where the theft ended.
"Well, well. What vermin crawls by moonlight?"
The voice was sneering, loud in the silence. A torch flared to life, revealing Young Master Zhao.
He leaned against the well's stone rim, a smirk twisting his handsome face. He wore fine silks that shimmered in the torchlight, and his aura was a visible, faint pressure—Foundation Building. He wasn't hiding. He'd been waiting.
Li Fan's blood went cold. He straightened up, abandoning stealth. "I am Minister Li. I am investigating the spiritual crisis on Her Majesty's order."
"Investigating?" Zhao laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. "By skulking around the water source? In the dead of night?" He pushed off from the well and took a step forward. "I think you're not investigating. I think you're the cause. Poisoning the well. Sabotaging the veins. A mortal spy from a rival court."
The accusation landed like a hammer. It was preposterous, but it was plausible. A mortal with no cultivation, found where he shouldn't be.
"That is a lie," Li Fan said, his voice steady despite the fear. "I have no means to poison anything."
"Your very presence is a poison," Zhao spat. He gestured, and two more cultivators in similar garb emerged from the darkness, blocking Li Fan's retreat. The commotion had drawn a small crowd—a few night servants and a late-returning guardsman. They watched, silent and wary.
Zhao's smile turned vicious. "I'll deal with you myself. For the security of the dynasty." He raised a hand, energy beginning to coalesce around his fingers, a faint, menacing glow.
Li Fan stood frozen. He had no defense. No System gift could stop this. He was going to be beaten, or worse, right here, and his death would be written off as justice.
"Young Master Zhao, please wait!"
A voice, clear and firm, cut through the tension.
Xiao Lan pushed through the small ring of onlookers, bowing deeply. Her face was pale but set.
"What do you want, maid?" Zhao snapped, not lowering his hand.
"This humble one can explain Minister Li's presence," she said, her voice not wavering. "He requested my assistance earlier. He sought night-blooming Silverbell herbs, which only open under the moon. He wished to prepare a calming tea for Her Majesty, to ease her spirit amidst the crisis. I told him they sometimes grow near the old well. I was delayed fetching the harvesting basket. The fault is mine."
The lie was perfect. Specific, humble, and framed in service to the Empress.
Zhao's eyes narrowed. "You expect me to believe this mortal was gathering herbs? For the Empress?"
"He is the Minister of the Interior, however new," Xiao Lan said, still bowed. "His methods are… unusual. But his intent to serve is clear. To strike him down for seeking to comfort our Sovereign would be… a grave misjudgment."
She had invoked the Empress's name, wrapped the lie in loyalty, and implied consequences for Zhao all in one breath. Li Fan looked at her, stunned.
Zhao hesitated. The energy around his fingers flickered and died. He couldn't prove she was lying. And attacking an official, even a mortal one, on a maid's testimony about herbal tea, would look like brutal overreach, even for him.
"A likely story," he hissed, but the threat had left his voice. He pointed a finger at Li Fan's face. "This isn't over, mortal. Your days here are numbered. I'll be watching. One misstep." He shoved past Li Fan, his shoulder knocking him aside, and stormed off, his lackeys following.
The crowd dispersed quickly, not wanting any part of the aftermath.
Li Fan let out a shuddering breath. The cold night air felt sharp in his lungs. He turned to Xiao Lan. "You didn't have to do that."
She finally straightened, her composure cracking to reveal the fear underneath. "He would have hurt you. Maybe killed you. He… enjoys it."
"Why?" Li Fan asked, the word heavy. "Why risk yourself?"
Xiao Lan looked at the ground, then back at him. "I don't know if you are a good man or a cunning one. But Young Master Zhao is a cruel one. And today, at the garden… you looked at the vein not like a thief, or a schemer. You looked like someone trying to solve a puzzle." She hugged her arms against the chill. "We need someone trying to solve the puzzle."
It was the most honest thing anyone had said to him in this world.
"Thank you," he said, the words inadequate. He reached into his robe, to the hidden pocket where he kept one spirit stone separate from the rest. He pulled out the warm, faintly glowing stone. "Please. Take this. Not as payment. As thanks."
Her eyes widened. A low-grade spirit stone was a fortune to a maid. It represented months of resources, a chance to slightly advance. "Minister, I cannot! It's too much. And if anyone saw—"
"No one saw," Li Fan said softly. He took her hand, gently folded her fingers around the pulsing stone. Her skin was cold. "Hide it. Use it for yourself. Consider it… an investment. In the person who just gave me the only thing that matters right now. Time."
She stared at the light peeking through her clenched fist, then up at him. A conflict of duty, desire, and newfound loyalty warred in her eyes. Finally, she gave a sharp, tiny nod and slipped the stone into her own robes. "You should go back. They will be watching more closely now."
He nodded. As he turned to leave, she spoke again, her voice barely a whisper.
"The herbs by the well… they're actually poisonous."
A faint, grim smile touched his lips. "I know."
He walked back through the sleeping palace, the encounter replaying in his mind. The helplessness. The intervention. The gift.
He had made an enemy tonight—a reckless, powerful one. But he had also found an ally. Not a System-granted favor, but a person. It felt more real, and more fragile, than any blue screen.
The game was no longer just him against the crisis. It was him and a handful of pieces against a board full of hostile knights. And the queen's favor was still a distant, capricious star.
He had time. But now, everyone was counting it.