Chapter 13: Webs Within Webs

Vermilion Palace – Inner Court

The grand hall glittered with crystal chandeliers and polished marble, but beneath the surface was a poison quietly seeping through the veins of the kingdom.

Noble families whispered behind fans. Eyes flicked suspiciously. Smiles were tight and measured. This was the kingdom's heart, yet treachery pulsed stronger here than any battlefield.

Li Tianming stood at the edge of the chamber, watching. Every word, every subtle glance was a piece of a puzzle. And the picture it painted was dark.

Minister Lian Guo—Overseer of Internal Affairs—had long enjoyed a reputation for loyalty and discretion. Trusted by many, feared by some, but no one suspected the depth of his duplicity.

Behind closed doors, Lian Guo met with envoys from the Western Tiger Basin—one of the Middle Realm's dominant powers. His voice was low, his promises cold.

"We will see your kingdom crumble, piece by piece," he whispered. "Chaos will follow, and then the Shadow Lotus will rise."

The Shadow Lotus Sect—a shadowy, ruthless faction specializing in spiritual corruption and political manipulation—had infiltrated deep into Vermilion's temples, its agents quietly turning priests and sect leaders into puppets.

Lian Guo's plan was a slow poison, far more dangerous than open war.

False bandit raids struck villages loyal to the crown, but the attackers wore symbols that blamed rival clans. Supply routes were sabotaged, yet commanders received conflicting intelligence, causing hesitation and mistrust.

Disputes flared between noble houses, carefully stoked by Shadow Lotus agitators who whispered lies and fanned flames. The kingdom's unity, so hard-won, began to crack.

Tianming's spies reported growing unrest. Farmers abandoned fields, fearing raids that may or may not be real. Merchants delayed caravans, wary of sabotage and deceit.

Lian Guo's influence ensured that any loyal commanders who questioned these incidents found themselves sidelined or accused of conspiracy.

It was a war fought not with swords but with shadows—one that could tear the Vermilion Kingdom apart without a single blade drawn openly.

Aware of the danger but refusing to panic, Tianming summoned Kisuke to the deepest war room beneath the palace.

"We let the serpent coil tighter," Tianming said quietly, eyes burning with cold resolve. "Then we strike precisely where it will cause the most damage."

Kisuke nodded, already spinning intricate plans to expose Lian Guo's treachery without provoking civil war.

"Patience and precision," Kisuke murmured. "The finest traps catch the craftiest snakes."

The real battlefield stretched beyond armies and fortresses. It was woven through whispers, coded letters, and silent gestures—a realm where a single misstep meant ruin.

Tianming's strategy was clear: feed false trails, monitor every faction's move, and prepare a decisive blow that would shatter the traitor's web before the kingdom's foundation crumbled.

The stakes were higher than ever.

And Tianming held the blade, ready to sever the shadows that threatened to engulf all.