The chamber was a place of profound and absolute power, a sealed sanctum deep within the heart of the Forbidden City where the Emperor met with those who required his most… personal attention. There was no throne, only two heavy, high-backed chairs of dark, polished wood facing each other. It was a setting designed to create a false sense of intimacy, to strip away the trappings of court and reduce a man to his essence.
Yuan Shikai entered, his footsteps silent on the thick silk carpets. He moved with the unhurried confidence of a man utterly at ease with power. He approached the seated Emperor and performed a perfect, fluid kowtow, his movements a physical expression of deferential grace. When he rose, his face was a placid mask of humble readiness, the face of a loyal servant prepared to receive his master's wisdom. He showed no fear, no anxiety, no hint of the treacherous depths that lay beneath his calm surface.
Qin Shi Huang watched him, his own face a study in imperial stillness. He did not immediately speak of the diplomatic crisis. He would not give Yuan the satisfaction of a direct accusation. He would circle his prey, testing its defenses, before striking.
"Minister Yuan," he began, his voice a calm, conversational tone that was in itself a weapon. "The Americans have accused us of a grave crime. A most inventive fiction. They claim an agent of the Great Qing, operating without our knowledge, has instigated a rebellion in their homeland." He paused, a faint, dismissive smile on his lips. "A most audacious and foolish plan, wouldn't you agree? To risk open war with a great power for such a minor, provincial prize."
He was testing Yuan's reaction, watching for the slightest flicker of recognition, the smallest telltale sign of guilt.
Yuan's performance was flawless. His eyes widened in a display of shocked disbelief, which quickly hardened into righteous indignation. "A despicable lie, Your Majesty!" he boomed, his voice resonating with a patriot's fury. "The Western barbarians are weak, their hearts filled with envy and fear. They see the might of your new Empire, and so they resort to slander. It is the last refuge of the defeated. The men responsible for concocting this slander should be found and punished for their insult to the Dragon Throne!"
He delivered the lines with a perfect, unwavering conviction. Any other man would have believed him. But Qin Shi Huang was not any other man.
As Yuan spoke his passionate, loyal words, the Emperor subtly activated his Dragon's Spark. He focused his supernatural perception entirely on his minister, unleashing the same overwhelming, soul-reading pressure he had used to break Shen Ke. It was an invisible, irresistible force, a wave of pure psychic energy designed to bypass all conscious control and read the raw, unfiltered truth of a man's biological state. He expected to feel the telltale signs of deceit: a frantic spike in heart rate, a surge of adrenaline, the chaotic electrical static of a mind scrambling to maintain a lie. He leaned forward, his senses poised to detect the slightest tremor in Yuan's foundation.
And he felt… nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
It was the most profound and unsettling experience he had ever had with his power. Yuan Shikai's body remained a placid lake in a hurricane. His heart rate did not alter by a single beat. His breathing remained as slow and even as a sleeping monk. The neurological signals in his brain, which should have been a flurry of activity, remained calm and orderly. He met the Emperor's intense, probing gaze without flinching, his face a mask of perfect, unwavering sincerity.
The Emperor's power, which read the qi of fear and deceit in other men, found nothing to read in Yuan. It was like trying to hear an echo in a vacuum-sealed chamber. The force of the Emperor's will, which could shatter stone and bend the minds of lesser men, simply washed over Yuan Shikai and vanished, finding no purchase, no resonance, no reaction.
Qin Shi Huang was profoundly shaken. He had assumed Yuan was simply a master of deception. He realized now that the truth was far more terrifying. Yuan was not hiding his guilt. He simply did not possess any. His self-control was so absolute, his psyche so perfectly compartmentalized, that his body did not betray his mind. He was a perfectly hollow man. His conscience was a barren desert where no seeds of guilt or fear could grow. And because he felt no guilt, his body registered no lie. He was, in a terrifying, practical sense, immune to the Emperor's truth-seeing power.
This utter lack of a readable signature was, to Qin Shi Huang, the ultimate confirmation of Yuan's treason. Meng Tian's inner turmoil had been a sign of a human conscience at war with itself. Yuan's perfect, inhuman stillness was the sign of a man with no conscience at all. It was the mark of a true monster.
The Emperor withdrew his power, the faint shimmer in the air around him dissipating. His suspicion had now hardened into a cold, diamond-hard certainty. He could not force a confession. So he would lay a trap.
He leaned back in his chair, the warm, almost friendly tone returning to his voice, the sudden shift designed to be disorienting. "You are right, Minister. This American affair is a foolish distraction from the great work that lies before us. Let us speak instead of your Armored Legion."
Yuan, believing he had weathered the storm and passed the test, visibly brightened. "Yes, Your Majesty! The recruitment is proceeding ahead of schedule. We have found the finest technicians, men whose hands think in the language of engines and steel."
"Excellent," the Emperor said, a benevolent smile gracing his lips. "I am most pleased with your progress and your vision. I am granting you expanded authority to requisition any materials or personnel you require. I am also increasing your budget by fifty percent." He waved a hand magnanimously. "Build me the finest army imaginable, Minister Yuan. Spare no expense. I am placing my full trust in you and your revolutionary methods."
He was giving Yuan more rope. He was encouraging his ambition, feeding his arrogance, letting him believe that he had the Emperor's complete and unwavering confidence. He would allow Yuan to build his secret power base, to further his treacherous plans, all while the Emperor's true agent, Shen Ke, watched his every move from the shadows.
Yuan Shikai, completely unaware of the true nature of the Emperor's thoughts, bowed so low his forehead almost touched his own knees. "Your Majesty's wisdom is as vast as the heavens! This servant is unworthy of such trust, but I will strive every day to prove myself deserving! I will not fail you!"
"I know you will not, Minister," Qin Shi Huang said softly.
The audience was over. Yuan left the chamber, his step light, his mind already racing with plans for his new resources, confident that he had once again outwitted all his rivals. He was victorious.
Qin Shi Huang was left alone in the silent room. His benevolent mask fell away, replaced by an expression of cold, reptilian fury. He now knew, with absolute certainty, who the traitor was. But he also knew that the traitor was a new kind of enemy, one who was immune to his greatest supernatural weapon. He could not prove Yuan's guilt with a simple exertion of will. He would have to find another way. A more conventional way. He would have to play the game on Yuan's terms, using spies, evidence, and traps.
The hunt was no longer just a matter of state security. It had become personal. And it had just become infinitely more difficult.