The night deepened, and the brazier glowed with dying embers. Gu Xingyu sat in the secret chamber, appearing as still as water, while her mind calculated dozens of possible escape routes.
She took the Yao-crystal shard from her sleeve. It was the fragment she had pried from the bowl—faint in color, but still harboring a trace of Yao-energy. She closed her eyes, her breath sinking deep into her core. Touching the shard, she whispered an ancient Yao incantation found in Lin Lie's grandfather's notes:
"Heart returns to Seal, images shift to deceive—break form with void, disrupt patterns with will."
The shard emitted a faint trail of light, creeping along the lines of bone powder she had hidden beneath the rug. This was her first diversion—a "Phantom Array." When the guards checked, they would sense Yao-fluctuations in the wrong direction, leading them to believe she was attempting a brute-force breakout.
Xingyu's eyes sharpened. She pulled a silver needle from her hairpin and drew a thin, nearly invisible cut on her arm. She let a drop of blood fall onto the shard, triggering a massive Yao-surge that rattled the entire chamber's barrier.
Outside, shouting and warning horns immediately erupted.
"Quick! The inner array is vibrating! The Yao-energy is unstable!"
"Is she trying to break out?"
"Impossible! She's unarmed—how could she shatter a Lock-Array?"
Hearing the chaos, Xingyu's lips curled into a cold, calm arc. She was gambling on Si Moheng's paranoia and need for control. She knew he wouldn't move her yet; instead, he would try to "fortify" the cell—and that action would provide her real opening during the next shift change.
More importantly, this surge would cause a resonance far away—one that the Five Yao could perceive.
She felt a sharp jolt in her chest as she forced the Yao-energy through her veins, nearly coughing up blood. Gritting her teeth, she pushed a final pulse into her fingertips. Her Saintess-Seal glowed with a faint green light, vibrating at a specific frequency: Water + Earth.
"Go..." she whispered. "Only you two can catch this."
The signal rippled out—a frequency designed specifically for Cang Yuan and Li Yan to detect. She sat back on the couch, concealing the blood and the shard, waiting in silence.
[The Main Tent • The Shadow of Doubt]
The night wind cut like a blade. Si Moheng sat in the dark of his side tent, a single Yao-lamp casting flickering shadows over his face. He held a black chess piece—one that should have declared his victory, yet it felt heavy, immovable.
Xingyu's words echoed in his head: "You aren't asking if I'll choose you. You are desperate for someone—just one person—to stand by you for who you are."
He never believed in hearts, only in leverage. But tonight, she hadn't resisted him with steel; she had used needles to pierce the armor he had built over a lifetime.
"I should have cut her throat," he muttered. "Why did I want to hear her finish?"
From childhood, everyone had approached him with an agenda. He grew up in a world where even a smile had to be verified for poison. But Gu Xingyu—knowing the danger—had looked straight into the most hidden cracks of his soul.
"She sees through me... but she didn't run," he whispered. That was what unsettled him most. He didn't care about those who feared him, but her? She neither yielded nor resisted. She chose to witness him.
A tremor of something unknown grew in his heart—curiosity, danger, and a nameless hope. He slammed the chess piece onto the desk, realizing his fingers were shaking.
"Gu Xingyu..." he breathed into the shadows. "Did you enter my trap, or have I stepped into your heart-array?"
He stood up and summoned his lieutenant. "Xiao You! Search the camp for any weakness, especially the supply lines. And do not change the guards at the Saintess's cell. Do not add defense... but do not relax for a second."
He looked into the night. "If she wants to play, I will play with her. But this time, I want to see how many steps she can take." He didn't know if he was warning her—or himself.
[The Confrontation]
The door to the chamber creaked open. Si Moheng stepped in, bringing the chill of the night with him. He wore no armor, only a black silk robe. He stood before her, his eyes cold. "What did you touch?"
Xingyu smiled softly. "You came so quickly. I was right."
"The array is unstable. Yao-leakage... you hid a crystal." His tone wasn't angry, but every word was a blade.
"I never said you were wrong," she replied casually, setting down a tea cup.
"Are you trying to signal them?"
"Would you believe me if I said no?"
Si Moheng fell silent, his brow darkening as he evaluated her.
"You think you control the board," she stood up and walked toward him, "but you aren't the only one playing. How many signals did I send? Two? Three? Or was that last one the very first?"
For the first time, a crack appeared in his composure. He realized she wasn't just trying to escape; she was systematically stripping him of his initiative.
"You are a gambler, Gu Xingyu," he rasped, stepping closer. "But how do you know I wouldn't just order your execution instead of coming here myself?"
She looked up at him, her words like daggers. "Because you aren't sure if you want to keep the Saintess, or the only person who might actually trust you."
Si Moheng froze. The turbulence in his eyes was undeniable. Xingyu reached out, her finger hovering just in front of his forehead—not touching, but tracing his defenses.
"Here—you are still doubting," she said. Then she pointed to his chest. "But here... you are desperate for someone to recognize you, to see you as something other than a monster."
"ENOUGH!" he growled, grabbing her wrist. His grip wasn't painful, but it was heavy with the weight of someone losing control.
Xingyu didn't flinch. "You're afraid you might actually believe me, aren't you?"
His knuckles whitened. His reason told him she was a threat, but a voice in the dark whispered: Maybe she truly sees you.
"You know you shouldn't trust me," she whispered, "but you're more afraid that you want to."
The silence in the room was absolute, save for their breathing and the low hum of Yao-currents. Si Moheng stared at her, his hand still on her wrist, but the pressure had faded.
Finally, he let go. "You will regret this," he said, his voice low.
"I never regret the truth," Xingyu replied. "But you? If you lock me in a dungeon now and seal my veins... your game will be nothing but force and fear. And you know better than anyone—that isn't the game you wanted to play."
Si Moheng looked at her, his face a mask of unreadable shadows. He turned and walked out of the room. As the door opened, the night wind rushed in, catching the light of the Yao-shards—a herald of the storm to come.