Ba Sing Se slept.
That alone was its greatest weakness.
I made sure the disturbance was noticeable—but not catastrophic. A collapsed street here. A tremor rippling through stone foundations there. Enough to trigger protocol.
Enough to summon the Dai Li.
They arrived silently, emerging from walls and rooftops like ghosts in green and gold. Their chi was disciplined, their movements practiced—but their minds were unprepared.
I did not use fire.I did not use air.I did not use water.
Only earth.
The street became my ally. Stone rose to entangle limbs, gloves froze mid-strike as the ground seized them from below. I redirected their own momentum, trapping them in reinforced pillars before panic could spread.
They never landed a single hit.
When the last agent was restrained, I stepped forward calmly and activated my Sharingan fully.
The world slowed.
Their resistance shattered instantly.
Genjutsu flooded their minds—not crude domination, but rewriting. Memories rearranged themselves with surgical precision. Loyalty reassigned. Authority redefined.
I didn't make them mindless.
I made them certain.
Certain that I was the one they answered to.
Certain that this had always been the case.
"Take me to headquarters," I said.
They obeyed.
The Dai Li headquarters was exactly what I expected.
Cold stone. Hidden corridors. Power disguised as protection.
Long Feng was waiting.
He didn't pretend otherwise.
"So," he said, stepping forward with that familiar, arrogant calm, "another fool who thinks Ba Sing Se can be taken by force."
I met his gaze.
"By force?" I replied. "No."
Then I removed my cloak and planted my feet.
"By right."
I challenged him openly.
Earthbending only.
No tricks. No other elements. No spiritual pressure.
Just skill.
Long Feng accepted.
He had no choice.
The fight was brutal—but brief.
He was talented. Precise. Ruthless. His control over the stone was impressive by any standard, shaping weapons and restraints with practiced efficiency.
But he lacked adaptability.
I saw his patterns within seconds.
Every strike he launched was redirected. Every defense he raised was undermined from beneath. I didn't overpower him—I out-thought him. Earth bent not to my strength, but to my intent.
The ground rose behind him.
The walls closed in.
Stone coiled around his limbs like iron vines.
He struggled.
Failed.
I walked forward as he hung suspended, breathing hard.
"This city rots because men like you mistake control for stability," I said quietly.
Then I placed my hand on his chest.
Energybending ignited.
Not violently.
Cleanly.
I felt his chi pathways collapse inward, bending potential unraveling like threads pulled from fabric. His connection to earth—gone.
Long Feng screamed once.
Then fell silent.
I released him.
He collapsed to the floor, powerless.
The Dai Li watched.
Waiting.
I turned to them.
"You exist to protect Ba Sing Se," I said. "You will continue to do so."
Some knelt immediately.
Others hesitated.
Those who resisted—truly resisted—were dealt with swiftly. No spectacle. No mercy. The Dai Li understood strength, and more importantly, inevitability.
By the end of the night, there was no confusion.
No dissent.
Only order.
I stood at the center of the chamber, the new axis upon which Ba Sing Se's shadow government turned.
The walls of the city remained unchanged.
But behind them—
Everything had shifted.
And far away, beneath the ice, the Avatar slept on—unaware that by the time he woke, the world would no longer be waiting for him.