Explosive information!

That desire to "prove one's existence," once ignited, spreads like wildfire, burning brightly in the calm and solitary consciousness. He no longer contented himself with being an aloof, detached bystander.

Anran's long-dormant corporate drone heart, surprisingly, reignited the same damn proactive spirit he had when tackling projects and overcoming challenges in his past life. He wanted to do something.

This thought drives him to sharpen his "senses" like the sharpest surgical knife, beginning a more in-depth and purposeful 'diagnosis' of the vast "patient" that is the Aredoria Empire.

He sought a focal point, a weak spot, a fulcrum that could allow this butterfly trapped in a bottle to stir a breeze in the outside world. Anran's gaze quickly shifted from the Holy Light Cathedral to another nearby center of power—the opulent, heavily guarded imperial palace. If the church under Aurelia's rule was a steel fortress forged by faith and rules, organized tightly and almost impregnable, then the secular imperial court was a lavish greenhouse filled with human weaknesses.

In his past observations, Anran had already discovered that the prayers emanating from the palace were the most emotionally rich, intense, and twisted in the entire empire.

Here, the emperor harbored anxieties about the empire's declining fortunes and the incompetence of his heir.

The princes were consumed by greedy desires for supreme power and mutual suspicion among brothers.

The concubines feared the loss of their youth and favor, cursing their rivals with venomous hatred.

There were also countless nobles, ministers, and attendants whose hearts were filled with various schemes, ambitions, loyalties, and betrayals. 

This place was a treasure trove of human weaknesses, the perfect stage for someone like An Ran, an "intelligence gatherer," to showcase his skills. 

Thus, An Ran shifted his "scanning" focus entirely to the emperor's words.

Like a top-tier cybersecurity expert, An Ran patiently monitored every "information flow" within this vast network, seeking to identify a "system vulnerability" he could exploit.

The eldest prince, in his palace, prayed for his father's health while simultaneously scheming to align himself with a general to bolster his claims to the throne. This emotion was a hypocritical blend of ambition and filial piety. 

He heard the Third Empress praying before a replica of the Holy Maiden's statue, asking the Holy Maiden to grant her a child, but her true desire was to use this opportunity to overshadow the currently dominant First Empress.

This was a mixture of jealousy and hope. 

He also heard the Finance Minister praying for the empire's prosperity while inwardly feeling a sense of dread over the large sum of state funds he had embezzled. This was a blend of greed and fear.

Volume 18 

These "intelligence reports" were interesting, but none of them were sufficient to serve as the "lever" he sought. 

They were too complex and involved too many parties. In his current state, unable to speak or move, he could not intervene. 

He needed a simpler, purer, and more lethal breakthrough.

Finally, an extremely faint yet utterly terrifying signal—like a match in the darkness—was detected with precision. The signal did not originate from the Imperial Palace but from a remote, nearly forgotten corner of the Holy Light Cathedral. It was a small prayer room used exclusively for collective prayers by the servants.

A young girl's voice, trembling with tears, was uttering incoherent, confessional prayers in the faintest of whispers.

Her emotions were so pure, yet so intense—a fear so overwhelming it felt as though it might tear her apart.

Anran immediately focused all his "computing power" on the source.

"Oh... Holy Virgin, what should I do? What should I do... 

The girl's voice trembled uncontrollably, "I didn't see anything, I really didn't see anything... Please protect me, don't let Baron Valerius discover me... I don't want to die." 

Baron Valerius? 

Anran's "spirit" perked up.

He recognized the name—a middle-aged nobleman renowned for his refined manners and erudition within the court. "I shouldn't have been so careless. I shouldn't have taken a shortcut that night and passed through the rear corridor of the duke's banquet hall... I shouldn't have seen the baron's servant pour a packet of white powder into Duke Marcellus's wine glass..."

Poisoning! 

Anran's consciousness tensed instantly. 

Duke Marcellus was the Imperial Minister of War, a staunch "royalist," and a firm supporter of the Crown Prince. 

The girl's prayer continued, her voice trembling with fear.

"I... was terrified at the time, hiding behind a column and dared not make a sound. 

"Later, I heard that the duke fell ill after returning home, and the court physician could not determine the cause of his illness... Then, I heard rumors that incense carried by the second prince was found in the duke's room... Oh my God, this is going to be a major incident!" So that's how it was.

In an instant, a complete and clear chain of conspiracy emerged in Anran's mind.

The elegant and affable Baron Valerius secretly poisoned the Minister of War, Duke Marcellus, not only eliminating a political obstacle but also cleverly directing the evidence toward the Second Prince, who was engaged in the most intense struggle with the First Prince.

Shi Erniao, ruthless to the extreme!

Once the duke dies, the second prince will be accused of murdering a high-ranking official, and the only beneficiaries will be those third-party forces that have remained neutral in the succession struggle, waiting to reap the benefits.

And Baron Valerius may very well be a pawn of one of those forces, or he may have even greater ambitions himself,

".. Today, today I encountered the Baron in the corridor, and he smiled at me... His smile was so terrifying. He must know I saw him; he will certainly kill me to silence me... Holy Maiden, I am just an ignorant palace maid. I do not wish to die... Please save me...

The girl's prayer was cut short by desperate sobs,

while Anran, the "god" imprisoned within the divine statue, felt an unprecedented shudder mingled with excitement and chill.

Anran had found it. He had finally found the "lever" he sought!

This was a perfect, explosive secret.

It was like a key capable of unlocking the seemingly impregnable gates of courtly power struggles, triggering a massive earthquake within.

Once this secret was revealed, it could instantly alter the destinies of many.

The unfortunate palace maid could be saved, the wrongfully accused Second Prince could be exonerated, the poisoned Duke might still have a sliver of hope, and the hypocritical Baron Valerius would be disgraced.

A sense of power stemming from "knowing" filled Anran's consciousness. 

He felt like a puppet master holding the button to launch a nuclear weapon, with the fate of the entire empire hanging on his every thought. 

However, this excitement lasted less than three seconds.

A colder, crueler reality poured over him like a bucket of ice water. 

How could he expose this secret? 

Anran had no mouth to reveal the truth to the world, 

no hands to write a warning on paper. 

He couldn't even send a dream to someone like in those fantasy novels, for he lacked even that basic supernatural ability.

At this moment, An Ran was nothing more than a silent, cold stone statue. 

No, it would be more accurate to say he was a beautiful statue. 

This earth-shattering secret capable of overturning the empire's power structure was now trapped within this stone prison like the cruelest of jokes, unable to be conveyed, unable to be spoken, unable to change anything.

Possessing the "Divine Eye" that sees all, yet lacking the "Divine Hand" to pluck the strings of fate—this overwhelming sense of powerlessness was more intense and maddening than ever before. This can't go on! Anran sank his consciousness and began to think.

There must be a way to truly "interact" with this real world.