Lin Feng's pulse raced as he slipped through the Tianyu Palace's shadows. The night air remained sharp with the scent of blooming jasmine. Two days remained before the court's next assembly, where he'd face Emperor Tianlong's judgment—prove his waterwheel could save the western provinces or face banishment. The Jade Pendant burned against his chest, its runes glowing faintly after Elder Mo's scroll hinted at a "Star Key." The Star Key woke with will, his mother's words read. Lin Feng didn't know what it meant, but the archive's black jade gate held answers, and he wasn't backing down.
The eastern archive's entrance loomed, its rusted lock no match for his hairpin trick. Inside, the air was thick with dust, shelves of scrolls stretching into darkness. Moonlight barely touched the black jade gate at the chamber's heart, its dragon carvings watching like silent guards. Lin Feng's sketches—qi-powered waterwheel designs—were tucked in his robe, but he needed more: a clue to the gate's wards or the pendant's secrets. Zhao's trap last time had nearly cost him everything, and Su Mei's warning—"Zhao's allies are moving"—rang in his ears. He moved fast, his eyes scanning for threats.
He grabbed a scroll on qi arrays, its diagrams showing how spiritual energy could power mechanisms. His engineer's mind sparked—a waterwheel needed stable qi flow, like wiring a circuit. The pendant pulsed, as if agreeing, its warmth spreading to his fingertips. He unrolled another scroll, this one on the First Emperor's artificers, mentioning a "Star Key" that unlocks sacred gates. The text cut off, the pages torn, but the pendant's glow flared, casting green light across the page. It's connected, Lin Feng thought, her heart pounding. But how?
A creak snapped him alert. He doused his lamp, ducking behind a shelf. Footsteps echoed—three sets, heavy and deliberate. Not Zhao's smug stride, but hired muscle, their armor clinking. Lin Feng's stomach was twisted. Zhao's allies weren't waiting for the trial—they wanted him out now. "Spread it out," a gruff voice growled. "The cripple is here. Boss says no witnesses."
Lin Feng gripped the pendant, its heat almost scalding. He wasn't a cultivator, but he'd outsmarted bullies before. The archive was his turf now. He slid along the shelf, silently, spotting three thugs in leather armor, their swords drawn, mid-Qi Condensation auras flickering like torchlight. One kicked a scroll pile, cursing. "Where is the rat hiding?"
Lin Feng's eyes darted to the gate, ten paces away. If he could reach it, maybe the pendant would react again, like it had against Zhao. But the thugs blocked his path. She grabbed a loose scroll, tossing it across the room. It hit a shelf, rustling loudly. The thugs spun, one charged toward the noise. "Got him!" the man shouted, slashing empty air.
Lin Feng bolted, weaving through the shelves, but the second thug saw him. "There!" A sword swung, grazing his shoulder. Pain flared, blood soaked his robe, but he didn't stop. The third thug cut him off, grinning. "End of the line, cripple." Lin Feng ducked into a swing, rolling toward the gate. His hand slammed against its dragon carvings, the pendant blazing with light. A low hum filled the air, and the gate's runes flared, sending a shockwave that knocked the thugs back.
The first thug hit a shelf, scrolling crashing down. The second staggered, cursing, while the third charged again. Lin Feng pressed against the gate, desperate. "Come on," he muttered to the pendant. Its glow pulsed, but the gate stayed shut. Not enough will? He thought, recalling his mother's note. The thug's sword rose, and Lin Feng braced for the blow.
A flash of white streaked through the archive. Su Mei, her sword in a blur, parried the thug's strike, her aura cold as winter. The man stumbled, eyes wide, as she knocked him out with the hilt. The other two froze, then attacked. Su Mei moved like a phantom, disarming one with a flick, sending the others sprawling with a kick. In seconds, they were down, groaning in the dust.
Lin Feng stared, his breath ragged. Su Mei's eyes, sharp as frosted, met his. "You're a magnet for trouble, Fifth Prince," she said, sheathing her sword. "Why risk your neck here?"
He clutched the pendant, its glow fading. "I need answers," he said, his voice hoarse. "For the west, for myself." The gate is the key."
Her gaze flicked to the gate, then back to him. "Keys cut both ways. Zhao's not alone—his allies are sect dogs, sniffing for power. Stay alive, or your answers mean nothing." She turned to leave, then paused. "You're not as useless as they say." Her words hung like a spark in the dark, before she vanished into the shadows.
Lin Feng's shoulder burned, but Su Mei's words fueled him. He grabbed the artificer scroll, tucking it in with his sketches. The gate's runes dimmed, but the pendant's warmth lingered, promising more. He slipped out, avoiding guards, the night cloaking his bloodied robe. Back in his courtyard, he unrolled the scroll, finding a sketch of a Star Key—a jade disc with runes matching his pendant. It's you, he thought, gripping it. Two days left, and Zhao's goons were closing in.
A rustle broke his thoughts. Li Xiyue stood at the courtyard's edge, her silks dark under the moon, a crate of wood and jade at her feet. "Materials, as promised," she said, her smile sharp. "But I hear Zhao's hired sect thugs. Need a merchant's help, prince?"
Lin Feng's eyes narrowed. Her timing was too perfect, her jasmine scent too familiar. "What's your price, Lady Li?"
"Profit," she said, stepping closer. "And maybe there is a spark worth betting on. Don't die before I cash in." She left, her words a challenge.
The palace slept, but danger didn't. Zhao's allies, the gate, and the pendant—Lin Feng were running out of time. He gripped the Star Key scroll, resolve hardening. I'll make them choke on their scorn.