Yao knew, with a certainty that settled deep in her bones, that the bandits' spoils would be hers. The Economic Ministry officials were nothing if not ruthlessly efficient, their minds fine-tuned instruments for auditing and appraisal. This was a minor case, a trivial scuffle in a backwater system, with all evidence and witnesses neatly presented. The enforcement division would wrap it up on the spot, a tidy operation to avoid bureaucratic bloat and the tedious red tape that choked larger departments. It was a simple equation: close the file, distribute the assets, move on.
So, for two days, Yao lay in the sterile, white-sheeted bed of the ship's infirmary. The air hummed with a soft, antiseptic chill that did little to cool the simmering frustration of the female prosecutor and her team. Each time they passed her room, they saw her—propped up, idly picking at synth-fruit or staring blankly at the ceiling-mounted news screen, a picture of indolent convalescence.
The ship's doctor sighed, adjusting a dial on a bio-monitor. "Anyone else, and I'd think they were critically injured. Her? It's like she's on a luxury cruise." He shook his head. "Vitals are stable, tissue regeneration is nominal. But she acts as if moving a muscle would require a Herculean effort."
The worst part was her eyes. When she did deign to look at them, her gaze held a glint of pure, unadulterated mockery, as if they were particularly slow-witted servants scurrying to fulfill some inane task. It was infuriating.
"Does that wretched little upstart truly believe the Xie name is so formidable? That it grants her the right to such arrogance?" one of the junior prosecutors muttered, slamming a datapad onto a desk. "The Xie family is a minor Green-Blood house. And he's a bastard. In the eyes of our department, he's barely a speck of dust."
The female prosecutor, Lin, set down the inventory manifest she was cross-referencing. The silence in the room deepened. She had been quiet, her sharp features composed, but a thought had been nagging at her. "Perhaps," she said, her voice low and measured, "that's precisely the point. Perhaps this… performance isn't born of arrogance, but of fear."
"Fear?" the doctor scoffed. "She looks about as fearful as a contented cat."
"Think about it," Lin continued, her eyes narrowing slightly. "If she were genuinely cunning, and acted with humble gratitude, would we not be more wary? We'd wonder what she was truly planning. But this… this caricature of a spoiled, entitled brat? It's disarming. It makes her seem less of a threat. It's a classic strategy—play the fool so your enemies underestimate you. If we think she's just an idiot who will likely be eliminated by her legitimate siblings the moment she sets foot in Jingyang, why would we bother expending resources to target her now?"
A moment of stunned silence followed. The doctor blinked. "By the stars… you might be right. The little snake is more cunning than he looks."
"Not a snake," Lin corrected, a faint, wry smile touching her lips. "Just a survivor. A creature trying to navigate a forest full of predators with the only tools it has. It's not profound genius, but it's a practical, calculating sort of intelligence."
The legal formalities proceeded with sterile efficiency. Yao was summoned to a small, brightly lit chamber. The air was cool and carried the faint ozone scent of active legal terminals. Lin stood before her, a holographic display floating between them, detailing the allocation of assets.
"The total liquidated value of the bandit assets amounts to twenty-five million copper notes," Lin stated, her voice devoid of inflection. "Based on survivor testimonies, physical evidence, and the provisions of the Survivor Resettlement and Restitution Act, your contributory factor in the neutralization of the threat has been assessed at eighty percent. After accounting for humanitarian considerations regarding the other survivors, the adjudication committee awards you sixty-five percent of the total value. This translates to a sum of 16.25 million copper notes, to be disbursed via certified financial instrument. Do you consent to this allocation?"
Yao watched their faces, the set of their jaws, the slight tension around their eyes. They see it,she realized with an internal jolt. They've seen through the act. They're not as easily fooled as I hoped.Her mind raced. So why are they so easily swayed by Qin Mianfeng? Is it his protagonist aura? A built-in narrative bias that makes NPCs fawn over him? A 'Stupidity Field' that only affects those destined to be his sycophants?The thought was both terrifying and absurd. Was the very fabric of this reality skewed in his favor?
She buried the chilling notion deep, letting none of it reach her face. Instead, she summoned a look of greedy, unvarnished delight. "I consent! Absolutely! Thank you, comrades! Your fairness and efficiency are a credit to the Empire!" She practically vibrated with excitement, the picture of a avaricious simpleton who had just hit the jackpot.
At that moment, Zhou Linlang entered the room. She witnessed Yao, who had moments before been the epitome of a bedridden invalid, spring from the chair with an agility that defied medical science, snatching the proffered check from the air. She watched as the "cripple" meticulously examined the watermark, the imperial seal, the encryption codes, her movements sharp and practiced. It was a display of such pure, unadulterated avarice that it was almost artistic.
Zhou Linlang's expression remained unreadable. She paused at the doorway and said, her voice light as a feather yet cutting like a scalpel, "Excessive excitement can aggravate internal injuries. See that his bandages are changed. He seems to have recovered enough mobility to risk tearing them."
An hour later, Yao found herself tightly swaddled in fresh medical wraps, feeling like a mummy as she was wheeled onto the ship's main departure ramp. They had arrived at the Li Conglomerate's mining headquarters on X5.
The air here was different. It was filtered, temperature-controlled, and carried the sterile scent of industrial cleaning agents, a world away from the rusty, chemical-tainted winds that choked the lower settlements. Before them stretched a vast plaza of polished basalt, flanked by sleek, imposing towers of chromed steel and reinforced plasteel. A contingent of Li executives waited, their suits impeccably tailored, their smiles as polished and artificial as the corporate logo gleaming behind them. Their spokesman stepped forward, oozing congeniality. "Magistrate Zhou, welcome. We were so relieved to hear of the successful operation. And might we inquire after the young master from the Xie family? What a fortunate twist of fate that your team was there to rescue him."
"Ah, him? He's right there," one of the junior inspectors said, jerking a thumb.
The spokesman's gaze followed the gesture. His smile faltered for a microsecond, a crack in the perfect facade, as he took in the sight of Yao—trussed up in a bulky medi-suit, slumped in a wheelchair, her head lolling at an awkward angle. Yao offered a weak, pained grimace that she hoped passed for a smile. Her eyes darted across the plaza, finding Zhou Linlang already deep in conversation with the Li CEO. And there, standing just half a step behind Zhou Linlang's shoulder, was Qin Mianfeng. The positioning was subtle, deliberate. A silent announcement of favor, a gesture of inclusion and protection.
A reminder of my failure? Or is she playing a deeper game, setting a trap for him?Yao wondered, watching Qin Mianfeng's poorly concealed look of triumph. He looked like a man who believed he was holding a winning lottery ticket.
While Qin Mianfeng basked in his perceived status as an "insider," Yao was treated as a prisoner under a different name. Two stone-faced guards flanked her wheelchair.
"Uh, sirs, we're in a secure area now. You really don't need to hover," she ventured, her voice raspy.
"Magistrate Zhou's orders," one guard replied tonelessly. "She said you have limited mobility. The chair and the escort are for your safety. Wouldn't want you to, say, trip and drown in a latrine on our watch. The paperwork would be… significant."
Yao fell silent, swallowing a retort. Vicious woman.
Confined and bored, she had a PR bot project the news feed onto the wall. Stories of political maneuvering and corporate mergers scrolled past until a headline caught her eye: "Imperial Academic Term Commences in 15 Solar Cycles; Expanded Admissions for Arcanum Studies Announced for Blackstone Expeditionary Force Readiness."
The Blackstone Expeditionary Force. The memory surfaced from the game's lore—a massive, empire-wide mobilization against the shadowy Blackstone rebellion, led by the brilliant and elusive renegade arcanist, Hei Ze. The conflict was the catalyst for the game's main storyline, the reason imperial recruiters would soon be scouring even the most remote academies for talent. Academia was the gateway. She had fifteen days. Fifteen days to secure her place in the Xie family, obtain a legitimate identity, and find a way into an institution that could grant her the knowledge and credentials of a true Arcanist. It was a narrow window.
Her musings were interrupted hours later by the sound of the conference doors opening. The review was over. Zhou Linlang emerged, her expression giving nothing away. At almost the same moment, a new shuttle, bearing the crest of the Xie family, settled onto the landing pad.
The Xie envoy was cut from the same cloth as Adar—professional, impersonal, and radiating a palpable disdain for the "goods" he was collecting. The pleasantries with the Li officials were brief and hollow. Then he turned to Yao. "Young Master, it is time to depart."
Yao immediately launched into her performance. "I'm not going! Not until someone tells me who tried to have me killed! Bandits? Wolves? Does that sound normal to you? It was a conspiracy!" she wailed, thrashing weakly in her chair for effect. "Father must investigate! I demand justice!"
"Master Keli, these matters will be addressed in due course. Our orders are to return you to Jingyang immediately. It is the family head's command." The guard's voice was firm, brooking no argument.
As she was being maneuvered toward the shuttle, Yao caught a final glimpse of Zhou Linlang standing by a viewport, watching her. Her eyes were dark, unreadable pools. Notice,Yao thought, pouring all her feigned desperation into her expression. Please, notice that they didn't even ask for the incident report. Notice that they don't care.
Qin Mianfeng moved to stand beside Zhou Linlang. "The injustice of it all," he murmured, his voice laden with what he hoped sounded like righteous sorrow. "That such a… creature can evade consequences."
Zhou Linlang didn't look at him. "The world is full of such creatures. They specialize in crafting appearances, in presenting a facade of harmlessness or victimhood. It is a particularly insidious form of selfishness." Her tone was flat, analytical.
Qin Mianfeng took it as agreement, a shared condemnation of Oaks. He missed the subtle shift in her posture, the way her fingers tapped a silent rhythm against her datapad. Her thoughts were elsewhere, piecing together a puzzle. The evidence Qin Mianfeng had provided against the Li Conglomerate was sharp, but it skirted the core issue—the one piece of irrefutable evidence that was still missing. Had he held it back as leverage? And then there were the wolves. The satellite telemetry was clear: the pack had been guided. By an arcanist. A local, with a grudge, who knew Oaks's route. The pieces were forming a picture she didn't like. Qin Mianfeng was more complicated, and more dangerous, than he appeared.
Aloud, she said to the departing Li executive, "I'll also need the full dossier on one other individual. A slave girl named Yao. I find myself… curious."
"Curious, Magistrate?"
"Yes. Curious why someone would go to such lengths to erase a single, insignificant life."
From the corner of her eye, she saw Qin Mianfeng stiffen almost imperceptibly. A satisfying confirmation.
Meanwhile, aboard the Xie shuttle, Yao escalated her performance to a fever pitch. "I won't eat! I won't drink! I want answers! How can I go home when I might be murdered in my sleep?" she sobbed hysterically. "If you won't give me answers, then take me to my mother's house! I need to see her! To pray at her shrine! The property sale has a ten-day transition period; I still have access!"
The guard captain pinched the bridge of his nose. "Young Master, your mother is deceased."
"Then I need to visit her ashes!" Yao cried, clutching the small, discreet urn she kept in her pack. It was a macabre prop, but a effective one.
After a protracted, exhausting negotiation that left the guards visibly drained, they reluctantly agreed to a one-night stopover. The moment they arrived at the small, now-sold dwelling, Yao launched into a fresh wave of melodramatic grief, wailing and clutching the urn as if her heart would break. The guards, desperate for respite, retreated to the main room, turning up the volume on the television.
The moment she was alone, Yao's tears vanished. She activated a small player, which began to loop a recording of her sobs. Then, silent as a shadow, she slipped into the bathroom. The transformation was a nauseating, bone-deep wrenching, a pain she doubted she would ever fully acclimatize to. But when she looked in the mirror, it was the face of the slave girl, Yao, that stared back—paler, sharper, haunted.
She slipped out the back window, melting into the tangled, neon-drenched alleyways of the night-time settlement. Within half an hour, a masked figure stood in the deepest corner of the black market, facing the proprietor of the largest emporium of… questionable goods.
"I need one hundred Tier-1 Agility Crystals," she stated, her voice altered by a cheap modulator.
The proprietor, a grizzled man with a cybernetic eye, nearly choked on his synth-spit. A single crystal cost ten thousand coppers. This order was worth a fortune. His good eye narrowed, assessing her. "That's a… specific and substantial request. May I inquire—"
Yao didn't let him finish. She slid the certified check bearing the Imperial Economic Ministry's seal across the counter. The sight of that official insignia made the man blanch. His mind raced—the audits, the crackdown on the Li Group. Was this a sting?
"We are legitimate businessmen here! No need for scrutiny, honored customer!" he stammered, all suspicion replaced by terrified obsequiousness.
"Then stop scrutinizing me," Yao hissed. "The transaction. Now."
Trembling, the man gathered the crystals, placing them in a shielded case. Yao took it, turned, and vanished back into the shadows. The proprietor stared at the check in his hand, a cold dread settling in his stomach. If this was a sign of things to come, the easy, corrupt days on X5 were truly over. He could only hope the contingency plans he had in place—the false ledgers, the offshore accounts—would be enough.
Back in the empty house, Yao slipped inside, the recorded sobs still echoing. She placed the case of crystals beside the funerary urn. A million coppers, spent in a heartbeat. It was a colossal gamble, an all-in bet on a piece of obscure, high-risk lore. But if the "Arachnid Ascension Ring" worked as the old game guides claimed, the payoff would be worth every single copper. Freedom of movement. A way to escape the gilded cage of the Xie family and the deadly plots that surely waited. She just had to survive the next 24 hours.