The imperial court was a labyrinth of gilded halls, whispering corridors, and watchful eyes. Every step Jeng Minh took echoed against polished marble floors, but the sound seemed swallowed by the weight of intrigue. The chain pulsed faintly in his chest, its rhythm attuned to the hidden currents of danger that threaded through the palace.
Bai Ye rode behind him, silent as ever, a shadow among courtiers. "The court is more dangerous than any battlefield," he said quietly. "Here, loyalty is a mask, and even allies can become enemies with the turn of a head."
Jeng Minh adjusted Zhou Chen's ceremonial armor. It was a symbol of authority, yes, but also a lure for those who sought to test him. He could feel the subtle gaze of noble houses, calculating his movements, waiting for a misstep. The chain thrummed, whispering the presence of hidden observers—blades concealed in sleeves, poison tucked in goblets, and eyes that would betray him the moment he hesitated.
The first meeting was with the Emperor's chief advisor, a thin man whose every gesture was measured and deliberate. "Lord Zhou Chen," the advisor said, "your return is a boon to the empire, but it brings uncertainty as well. The provinces whisper, factions stir, and… shadows move in ways that even the Emperor cannot fully control."
Jeng Minh nodded, his voice calm and controlled. "The provinces will follow those who act with decisiveness and integrity. Shadows cannot sway those who hold truth as their guide."
The advisor's lips twitched, a hint of a smile—or perhaps a warning. "Bold words. But here, the cleverest blade is often hidden in the softest whisper."
As they spoke, the chain pulsed sharply. A servant carrying a tray of tea froze mid-step, and Jeng Minh's instincts screamed—subtle vibrations in the floorboards, a faint metallic scent in the air. Without breaking eye contact with the advisor, he shifted slightly, sending the tray crashing to the ground. A thin blade embedded itself harmlessly in the wall behind him.
Bai Ye's voice whispered in his mind: Alertness alone will not suffice. You must anticipate intent, predict movement, and act decisively. The chain amplifies perception—but strategy comes from your own mind.
Jeng Minh's eyes scanned the room, noting every subtle movement: a clerk's hand brushing against a hidden dagger, a guard whose stance betrayed a momentary hesitation, and a noble's faint smirk that masked an unknown design. He realized that this court would test not his spear, but his ability to see and control the game around him.
"Your vigilance is commendable," the advisor said, his tone unreadable. "Few can perceive the threads before they tighten. But beware, Lord Zhou Chen—the Empire rewards those who bend to its will, and crushes those who resist."
Jeng Minh's pulse matched the chain's rhythm, steady and unflinching. "I bend to no one's will except what is just. The chain guides my strength, but my mind guides my actions."
The advisor's eyes flickered, a moment of hesitation that Jeng Minh noted carefully. A small victory—perception in a room where weapons were hidden behind smiles.
As they departed the chamber, Bai Ye leaned close. "The chain will continue to pulse, warning and guiding. But remember this: in the capital, every step is a battlefield of minds. One misstep, one misplaced word, and the consequences are death or dishonor."
Feng approached, whispering, "My lord, the streets are restless. Word of your arrival is spreading fast. Factions are moving, and some are already positioning themselves against you."
Jeng Minh gripped the hilt of his spear, feeling Zhou Chen's strength merge with his own. "Then we move carefully, but decisively. Let them come. The chain and I are ready. And those who try to strike in shadows will find the light is sharper than they imagine."
The chain pulsed stronger now, as if sensing the approaching storm. Within the gilded halls of the capital, alliances would be tested, enemies revealed, and the first true trials of strategy and cunning would begin.
The warlord was no longer merely a figure of force—he was a force that could see and strike before his enemies even realized the danger.
And the city, with all its hidden blades and whispered schemes, was about to discover that the vessel had awakened—and it would not be subdued.