Whispered Promises and Seed of Discord

The late autumn breeze swept through Xingzhao, carrying the scent of cedar and cooling steel from the forges on the northern side of town. Since the departure of Envoy Zhang Yu, the town had resumed its daily rhythm, but Song Lian had not let down her guard.

Inside the operations tower, surveillance feeds flickered silently across the wall of screens. Engineers and security officers operated with precision, all under Song Lian's oversight. Though the envoy had left, Wen Ji, the envoy's so-called assistant, still roamed freely under a restricted Smart ID.

Song Lian had set its permissions carefully limited access, monitored spending, no entry into strategic zones. But she knew better than to trust a man sent by the Yun Court, especially one who observed more than he spoke. And Wen Ji had indeed been watching.

Xingzhao – West Market District

Lu Shiming stood behind the counter of his narrow shop, fidgeting with a worn abacus. The store smelled of aged tea and old frustration.

He had once been a proud merchant on the river routes south of the Wen River, skilled in negotiation and backdoor trades. Now, he was just another citizen under Song Lian's watchful eyes, his profits logged, taxed, and measured.

He scowled as he glanced at his monthly balance on the town's merchant dashboard it was clear, precise, and painfully low. That was when Wen Ji entered, as though summoned by discontent itself.

"Good morning, Merchant Lu," Wen Ji said with a courteous nod. He picked up a wrapped tea brick and studied it with mild curiosity. "A rarity."

Lu Shiming gave a tight smile. "One of the few things they haven't regulated yet."

Wen Ji didn't respond right away. Instead, he laid down triple its value in town credits. The gesture wasn't lost on Lu Shiming.

"I've noticed your shop hasn't received a construction grant," Wen Ji continued casually. "Strange, considering the council's supposed push to support independent merchants."

Lu Shiming snorted. "They give grants to those they favor. The ones who smile and bow and never ask why their shelves are half-controlled by the supply board."

Wen Ji leaned closer, voice soft but cutting.

"Do you ever wonder how all of this was built so quickly? Where the lights come from? The tools? The knowledge? Has no one thought to ask?"

Lu Shiming hesitated. He had wondered—but every time he voiced such thoughts, neighbors dismissed him with trust in Song Lian's vision or loyalty to Yun Zhen.

"You're not the only one asking," Wen Ji whispered. "There are others. People like you who are independent, capable. Questioning."

Lu Shiming crossed his arms. "What is it you want?"

"Nothing… yet." Wen Ji smiled. "But I think we can help each other. There's a storage facility near the eastern sector. A small crate with an unusual mark—circle over three lines. Just a peek inside. That's all."

Lu Shiming narrowed his eyes. "You want me to spy."

"I want you to understand the truth," Wen Ji said, his tone smooth. "And perhaps use that truth. Wouldn't it be nice to control your own fortunes again?"

Lu Shiming didn't respond. But when Wen Ji left, he found the note slipped between the tea bricks, a set of coordinates.

That night, as workers gathered near the communal canteen, quiet conversations echoed over steaming bowls of rice and stew.

"Did you hear?" one muttered. "Merchant Lu Shiming says we're being controlled. That the IDs are used to track more than just purchases."

Another shook her head. "But hasn't life improved? My children go to school. We have clean water, medicine…"

"I'm just saying," the first replied cautiously, "why do we know so little about where it all comes from?"

The guards patrolling nearby didn't intervene. But the whispers had begun.

In another corner of town, a stonemason grumbled to a neighbor that new building codes were "forcing out the old ways." A seamstress quietly worried that the factory-issued textiles were putting artisans out of work. The seeds of doubt were small but Wen Ji had planted them well.

Yun Empire – Guiyang Palace

Atop a dais of lacquered jade and obsidian, Emperor Yun Hejian read through the report Envoy Zhang Yu had delivered. His pale fingers tapped lightly against the parchment.

"Electric power. Advanced identity verification. A civilian army trained with foreign discipline. This is not a refugee camp. It is a rival city-state," he murmured.

Across from him stood Grand Chancellor Rong Yuye, his face unreadable.

"It is clear now," the emperor continued. "My brother builds a kingdom in the mountains. With the help of this woman, Song Lian. A mystery in herself."

"Then we must act," said Rong Yuye. "But not with swords. Not yet."

He gestured to a large map of the region. "We keep feeding the flame of their doubt. Let it smolder. And when the time is right…"

"We burn the mountain," the emperor finished.

Xingzhao- Eastern Sector, Two Hours Past Midnight

Lu Shiming crouched beneath the warehouse overhang, heart hammering in his chest. The coordinate had led him to a secured structure, near one of the energy hubs powering half the town.

He used the stolen clearance from a former apprentice's ID already flagged by security systems, though he didn't know that. Inside, the air hummed with an unnatural vibration. He found the crate: smooth metal, etched with the symbol Wen Ji described.

He pried the lid open; a core of light hovered in the crate's center, suspended between rotating disks. Cold, blue, and pulsing with unnatural rhythm. Unlike anything he'd seen. He reached out. And that was when the silent alert went off in the tower.

Inside her command room, Song Lian's eyes narrowed as the surveillance feed zoomed in on the intruder. Yun Zhen appeared at her side moments later, already pulling on a coat.

"Do we take him alive?" he asked quietly.

Song Lian gave a single nod. "He's not working alone."