The Alchemist's Garden was an island of tranquility in the encroaching twilight. The silvery glow of Selene's Veil was just beginning to eclipse the last, faint blush of Lumina's fire on the horizon. The air was cool and fragrant, a stark contrast to the sweat and dust of the training grounds.
Yang Kai walked with a deliberate, theatrical limp. His muscles were genuinely screaming, his thighs feeling like they had been torn to shreds, but he amplified the effect. He was a boy who had foolishly pushed his weak body past its limits, a pathetic creature in desperate need of aid.
He found his First Aunt, Madam Lan, waiting for him in her pavilion. She was a vision of serene, maternal grace. Her jade-green silk robes, layered in shades of pale mint and moon-white, were simple but exquisitely tailored. A single, flawless white orchid pin held her inky-black hair in a practical healer's knot, revealing the elegant, pale column of her neck. Her oval face was soft, her jade-green eyes—framed by long lashes and slightly heavy lids—held a placid, waiting intelligence. A small, almost imperceptible line of worry was etched between her brows, a sign of the strain of managing this dying clan.
She watched him approach, her gaze analytical, missing nothing.
"First Aunt," he said, his voice a convincing imitation of pained exhaustion. He bowed, a movement that sent a sharp protest through his lower back.
"I heard you made a spectacle of yourself in the training yards, Nephew Kai," she said, her voice a calm, neutral statement. There was no praise, no condemnation. It was the observation of an alchemist noting a peculiar chemical reaction.
"My cousin was… a very thorough teacher," he replied, grimacing as he lowered himself onto the stool she gestured to.
"My son is impatient," she corrected. "He has the weight of this clan's future on his shoulders. He does not have time for games." She pushed a ceramic jar across the table. "This is a Soothing Jade Liniment. It will ease the pain in your muscles and help prevent lasting damage. Your ambition, it seems, has outpaced your body's durability."
He took the jar, its surface cool to the touch. "Thank you, First Aunt. You are too generous."
"Generosity has little to do with it," she said, her gaze sharp. "A cripple who knows his place is a quiet burden. A cripple who injures himself through foolish pride becomes a noisy one. I am merely ensuring my peace and quiet."
She was building a wall, re-establishing the transactional nature of their relationship. He had forced her hand by making a public display, and she was reminding him of his place.
He didn't respond. He simply opened the jar. A cool, minty, and deeply herbal scent wafted out. He began to rub the thick, green ointment onto his sore shoulders, hissing as the cool sensation met his bruised muscles.
They sat in silence for a long moment, the only sound the chirping of night insects and the soft rustle of leaves in the willow tree.
"The information you gave me about the Governor was correct," she said finally, her voice low. "I made some discreet inquiries through a merchant contact at the Jade Wind Trading Post. The Governor's expenditures are immense, and his returns have been… negligible. He is desperate."
Yang Kai's heart began to beat faster. This was it. The opening.
"His desperation is greater than you think, First Aunt," he said, his voice barely a whisper. He stopped rubbing the liniment, his full attention now on her.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Explain."
He took a slow, deliberate breath. He had to play this perfectly. He couldn't just present the information. He had to frame it, to make it seem as though he was a reluctant sharer of a dangerous secret, a boy in over his head.
"In the library," he began, his voice hesitant, "I have been reading the old records. Not just the histories, but the clan's private ledgers. Survey maps. Journals."
He leaned forward, his expression one of dawning horror, a mask he had practiced in the reflection of his bronze plate. "He is not just digging for Aethel-Iron. That is a pretense. He is looking for something else. Something old."
He let the word hang in the air.
Madam Lan's serene composure did not crack, but he saw a new intensity in her gaze. She leaned forward as well, her voice dropping to match his. "What did you find, Nephew Kai?"
This was the moment. The culmination of all his listening, his reading, his planning.
He reached deep into his robes and pulled out the small, frayed scroll—the surveyor's journal. He placed it on the stone table between them. It looked insignificant, a piece of forgotten trash.
"This," he said, his voice trembling with a mixture of real and feigned fear. "A private journal from a mortal surveyor in our clan's employ, over a century ago."
Her eyes flickered from his face to the scroll. She did not reach for it.
"He was mapping the foothills," Yang Kai continued, his voice now a rushed, conspiratorial whisper. "Near the old, depleted mining pits. He found something. A road. Made of a seamless black material that leads directly into the mountain." He paused, delivering the final, devastating line. "The locals in his time had a name for it. They called it… the Shattered Path's Remnant."
The silence that followed was absolute.
The Shattered Path.
The words were a taboo, a ghost from a forgotten, cataclysmic age. It was a history that every major clan knew, but never spoke of. The path of forbidden power, of hubris and self-annihilation.
Her face, for the first time since he had met her, was a mask of pure, unadulterated shock. Her jade-green eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted. The serene alchemist was gone, replaced by a clan matriarch who had just been told there was a lit fuse leading to a bomb buried beneath her home.
She reached out, her long, slender fingers trembling slightly as she touched the ancient scroll. She unrolled it, her eyes scanning the faded script, her expression growing grimmer with every word she read.
"This is…" she breathed, her voice barely audible. "If this is true… if the Governor is meddling with relics from the Ancient Era…"
"He is not just meddling," Yang Kai said, pressing his advantage. "He is trying to excavate it. That is why he needs the blasting powder from the Rat's Nest. That is why Master Lin, his Array Master, is at the camp. They are trying to unearth a power that destroyed the world once before."
He sat back, his part in the drama complete. He had delivered the dagger. It was up to her to decide how to wield it.
She read the journal again, her mind clearly working at a furious pace, connecting the dots, seeing the terrifying implications. The Governor's desperation. The failing mines. The secret alliance with smugglers. It all made a horrible, perfect sense.
Finally, she looked up at him. The shock was gone, replaced by a cold, hard, dangerous light. It was the look of a woman who had been backed into a corner and had just been handed a weapon.
"This journal," she said, her voice low and intense. "No one else has seen this? Not your father? Not the Patriarch?"
"No one," he lied smoothly. "I found it by accident. I did not understand the significance of the name until I cross-referenced it with the historical texts. I came straight to you, First Aunt. I… I was afraid."
He was giving her control. He was making it her discovery, her secret. He was just the foolish, frightened boy who had stumbled upon it.
She nodded slowly, her decision made. She carefully re-rolled the journal. But she did not give it back to him. She tucked it into the sleeve of her own robe.
The secret was now hers. And so, by extension, was he.
"You have done well, Nephew Kai," she said, her voice regaining a measure of its composure, though the cold light in her eyes remained. "You were right to bring this to me. This is not a matter for hot-headed men like your father or the Patriarch. This requires… a delicate touch."
She stood up. "Your body is weak. This rudimentary training will do little more than cause injury. A strong vessel must be built from the inside out. Come to me tomorrow evening. I will prepare a proper foundation-tempering bath for you. It is the least I can do for the service you have rendered to the clan."
He stared at her, stunned. A foundation-tempering bath. A medicinal bath brewed with precious herbs and infused with an alchemist's own Star Force. It was a treatment reserved for the most promising core disciples, like her own son. It was a priceless treasure.
"First Aunt, I…"
"Do not argue," she said, her tone final. "You have proven you can be a useful asset. It is in my best interest to ensure that you are not broken. Be here. At the Hour of the Boar."
She turned and walked into her workshop, the surveyor's journal, and all the power it represented, disappearing with her.
Yang Kai remained sitting in the pavilion, his heart pounding a triumphant, thunderous rhythm.
He had done it. He had traded knowledge for a key. He had turned whispers and dust into a priceless opportunity.
For the first time since waking in this world, he felt a surge of genuine, intoxicating power. Not the power of Star Force, but the power of a single, well-placed secret. He had hooked his line into the biggest fish in the pond. And she was beginning to pull him out of the mud.
She stood in the pavilion, the cool night air doing nothing to calm the fire that had ignited in her mind. Her hand rested on the sleeve of her robe, where the surveyor's journal was hidden. It was not a scroll; it was a dagger. A dagger pointed directly at the Governor's throat.
Her first thought was of her husband, the Patriarch. He would see this as a matter of honor, a reason for a direct, foolish confrontation. Her second thought was of Madam Liu, who would see it as a tool for chaos, a way to burn the whole board down.
No. This weapon was too sharp for clumsy hands.
This secret, properly wielded, could do more than just save their clan. It could reshape the power balance of the entire province. If the Governor's position became untenable, who would the Azure Empire send to restore order? Who would benefit from the ensuing vacuum of power?
Her gaze drifted towards the First House's wing, towards the room where her son, Yang Wei, was meditating. This was the key. This knowledge could buy her the time and resources to ensure his breakthrough was not just successful, but perfect.
She had just been handed the key to her son's future. And the one who had delivered it was the useless, crippled whelp of the Second House. The irony was exquisite.
The boy from eleven years ago had been a ghost even before his coma—quiet, timid, unremarkable. The creature that had just left her garden was something else entirely.
He had played her. She saw that now. The public spectacle in the training yards had not been an act of foolish pride. It had been a calculated move, a performance designed for a single member of the audience: her. He had known, somehow, that she would not be able to resist intervening. He had created a pretext for this meeting.
He had summoned her.
A shiver, one that had nothing to do with the night's chill, traced a path down her spine. The boy was not a fool. He was a spider, spinning a web from the shadows. And he had just successfully attached his first thread to her.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face. "How… fascinating," she whispered to the empty garden.
[Cycle of the Azure Emperor, Year 3472, 7th Moon, 17th Day]