Chapter 10: The Serpent’s Retribution

Act I: Cracks in the Patriarchy

During the 1998 monsoon season, six-year-old Shen Qinghuan huddled in a wardrobe in Zhabei's crumbling apartment. The stench of mothballs mixed with the sickening thuds of her father being beaten—the engineer who opposed a developer's feng shui plan now had a boot pressed to his throat.

"Girls don't study the Hàn Lóng Jīng!" Her father snatched back the ancient geomantic text, blood speckling its yellowed pages. Her mother knelt nearby, wiping blood from the floor, the slit of her cheongsam revealing belt bruises from earlier "disobedience."

That night, Qinghuan painted a crooked Big Dipper on her instep with stolen cinnabar. Moonlight through rusted bars cast crimson shadows on her skin: "One day, they'll kneel to lick this mark."

Act II: Neon Throne

In 2023, Shen Qinghuan's Jimmy Choo stiletto crushed Chen Guodong's hand on a rain-lashed Lujiazui conference table. Outside, drones rearranged neon lights into the Purple Forbidden Enclosure constellation, their blue glow illuminating the nano-magnetic Nine Palaces tattoo on her instep—a biometric lock where each submission burned the "Pojun" (Ruinous Army) star.

"9 PM last Wednesday. Bulgari Hotel Room 1608." She leaned down, Gucci sunglasses sliding to reveal imperial sanbai eyes. "You licked Wang's golden Pixiu statue like a dog. Show me that spirit now."

Chen's amulet shattered on marble. As his lips touched her tattoo, magnetic particles delivered an electric sting—a Silicon Valley black-market modification that uploaded his biometrics to the cloud.

"Congratulations. Sacrifice No. 49." She drenched his balding head in champagne.

Act III: Forging Puppets

In the penthouse atop the Bund's No. 18, Qinghuan pierced Lin Yuan's earlobe with a laser. The 21-year-old intern screamed, her ankle shackles linked to a Tesla coil.

"Endure." Qinghuan embedded a titanium earring shaped like a DNA helix, its camera lens glinting red. "Your pulse, sweat, hormones—all mine now."

When Su Que tried to flee, the smart-locked apartment trapped her. Qinghuan activated a hologram map with 700 pulsating dots—each a kneeling supplicant.

"You're living compasses." UV light exposed altered Nine Palaces tattoos on the girls' feet, Morse code "S" glowing in the Kan position. "When I ascend in Tang, these marks will guide my army through time."

Act IV: Humiliation Ritual

At the Peninsula Hotel gala, Qinghuan emerged in a scarlet Alexandre Vauthier gown slit to the thigh. Press cameras caught the dragon embroidery as she stomped on tycoon Wang's knee.

"Lick it clean." She poured Bordeaux over her festering tattoo—mercury-laced ink rotting her skin. "Like you licked those permits."

As Wang's saliva mixed with pus, Su Que's earring nano-toxins began recording. Drones projected Oracle Bone script reading "Empress" over the Huangpu River. Every guest's phone buzzed with blockchain contracts binding their darkest secrets.

"Indentures for my empire." She crushed Wang's gold-rimmed glasses. "Better to be my tool than a patriarchy's lapdog."

Act V: Serpent's Bite

On the eve of her timequake, Qinghuan implanted the final Warring States jade disc in Ciyun Temple's crypt. Lin Yuan tore open her blouse, her北斗七星 tattoo hemorrhaging: "Mistress! Chen sold the biometric codes to the Celestial Bureau!"

Rain lashed the map where 700 dots blinked frenetically—each a traitorous coordinate. Su Que's altered tattoo activated, Morse "S" morphing into an arrow targeting her Lujiazui array.

"You thought you tamed dogs?" Chen's hologram materialized among drones. "The Celestial Bureau has awaited your 7,000 sacrifices since you painted that first tattoo at six!"

Qinghuan laughed as lightning from her ritual array cracked the crypt. In the spacetime rift's agony, she saw infinite selves—Empress Wu baring a serpent sigil in Tang, her modern counterpart shoved onto subway tracks. All reflections' insteps festered, spelling a blood omen:

"The coronation kills the crowned."