In his private study, a silent, cavernous room where the only light came from the moon filtering through silk screens, Qin Shi Huang contemplated the board. Before him, on a vast, polished table, lay two documents, two opposing philosophies of power. On his left was Admiral Meng Tian's battle plan, a radical, elegant, and deeply insubordinate proposal for the Siberian war. On his right was Spymaster Shen Ke's preliminary report on the financial dealings of Minister Yuan Shikai, a tangled web of shell corporations and hidden assets that spoke of immense, undeclared power.
He was contemplating his two greatest weapons. Meng Tian was his sharpest sword, a blade of unparalleled quality, but one that was beginning to show a disconcerting will of its own. Yuan Shikai was his heaviest axe, a brutal, effective tool, but one whose handle felt slick with the poison of deceit. One man was hiding something. The other was a master of hiding everything.
The Emperor closed his eyes, his breathing slowing until it was almost imperceptible. He entered a light meditative state, a place of pure, uncluttered strategic thought. He activated his Dragon's Spark, but he did not seek to read a person or project force. He used his unique perception to analyze the very concepts before him, to sense the innate nature of the plans themselves.
He focused first on Meng Tian's heretical strategy. In his mind's eye, the complex diagrams and columns of text dissolved, replaced by a flowing, dynamic image. The plan glowed with a faint but steady blue light, the same color he had seen in his vision of his living legions. It was an energy that felt complex, harmonious, and alive. He could sense the interconnectedness of its parts, the elegant balance of risk and reward. It felt like a perfectly functioning ecosystem, dangerous but sustainable.
Then, he focused his sense on his own original plan, the grand frontal assault on the Trans-Siberian railway. The mental image it produced was starkly different. It felt heavy, brutish, and inert. It pulsed with a deep, muddy, bloody red, the color of a slaughterhouse floor. It was a strategy of pure, overwhelming force, with no harmony, no elegance, only the promise of mass death.
His own supernatural intuition was confirming the superiority of his general's strategy. A lesser man might have been angered by this, his pride wounded. But the First Emperor was a pragmatist. He cared only for victory. The realization did not make him trust Meng Tian more; it only deepened the mystery. Where did such a perfect plan come from?
He shifted his focus to the men themselves. He recalled the sensation of probing them in the council hall. He conjured the memory of Meng Tian's energy signature: a turbulent, chaotic storm of honor, guilt, and a strange, hidden power. It was the signature of a man at war with himself. Then, he conjured the memory of Yuan Shikai. The image was a chilling void. The unnatural, placid calm of a man whose inner world was a vacuum. One was a storm. The other was a black hole.
His intuition, honed over two lifetimes, screamed at him that the black hole, the absence of feeling, was the more profound and absolute danger.
He opened his eyes, his decision made. He could not prove his suspicions yet. But he could rattle the cages. He could apply pressure and see which of his great beasts flinched.
He struck a small silver bell on his desk, and within moments, Spymaster Shen Ke slipped into the room like a wraith, prostrating himself.
"Rise, Spymaster," the Emperor said, his voice calm. "The traitor remains hidden, but my suspicions have narrowed. We will not wait for him to make a mistake. We will force his hand."
He gestured to the report on Yuan's finances. "Minister Yuan's personal wealth is… extensive. Far more than his official stipend would allow. You will quietly place his primary financial holdings in Tianjin, particularly his accounts with the British banks in the legation quarter, under a new level of official scrutiny. I want you to create a bureaucratic entanglement."
Shen Ke listened intently, his mind already working through the possibilities.
"You will have the Ministry of Finance flag several of his transactions for 'irregularities,'" the Emperor continued. "Freeze some of his assets. Not all of them. Just enough to be a profound inconvenience. Just enough to disrupt his plans. Do not let him know this directive comes from me. The inquiry must appear to be the work of a meddling, overzealous bureaucrat in the finance ministry. A man whose ambitions are threatened, or whose sense of order is offended, will become impatient. Let us see how our Minister of Industry reacts when his flow of capital is constricted."
He then picked up Meng Tian's plan. "At the same time, I am going to approve a portion of Admiral Meng's… unorthodox strategy." He would test his other great servant as well. "I want you to deliver a message to the Chief Strategist. Tell him that I have considered his proposal and that I find it intriguing. As a test of his new theories, I am authorizing a single, autonomous deep-strike mission. His objective will be the Klyuchi Pass Bridge."
He looked at Shen Ke, a cold, cunning smile touching his lips. "He will be granted permission to hand-pick his own men for this task. He will command the operation directly, and he will report only to me. It will be his chance to prove the validity of his 'genius.'"
Shen Ke, for the first time, looked truly confused. His brow furrowed. "Your Majesty, forgive my impertinence… but you are empowering both of your primary suspects at the same time. You are giving Admiral Meng the independent command he seems to crave, while simultaneously provoking Minister Yuan. Is it wise to test them both at once?"
"Precisely," Qin Shi Huang said, his smile widening. "It is the only wise course of action. I am giving Meng Tian the freedom he desires. We will see if he uses it to bring me a great victory or an embarrassing failure. His success, or his lack thereof, will reveal the true source of his 'brilliance.' And I am placing financial pressure on Yuan Shikai, squeezing him, to see if it forces him to reveal his hidden resources or to make a rash move. I am rattling both cages at once. A storm and a black hole. We will see which one breaks its confines first."
He leaned back in his chair. "One of them will make a mistake under this new pressure. And you, my dear Spymaster, will be ready when they do."
The scene ended with Shen Ke bowing deeply, his mind awed and terrified by the sheer, ruthless cunning of his Emperor. This was not just a witch hunt anymore. Qin Shi Huang had just turned the entire, vast enterprise of the Siberian war into a personal, elaborate trap, designed to expose a single traitor. The lives of thousands of soldiers, the fate of the war itself, were now secondary to the Emperor's need to solve the puzzle of the disloyalty that festered at the heart of his court.