The transition from the Prince's sanctuary into the heart of the Empress Dowager's private domain was a journey through a world where even the shadows felt heavy with ancient, formal refinement. Li Mei moved with the stealth of a creature born to the night, her linen slippers making no sound against the cold jade floors of the Lavender Labyrinth. This was the "in medias res" start her father had always cautioned about—starting in the middle of a high-stakes action to immediately hook the reader's curiosity.
Mei's "Golden Finger"—her supernatural scent-tracking ability—was her only map through the palace's suffocating layers of imperial incense. As she navigated the dark corridors, she "analyzed" the sensory data like a professional writer disassembling a scene frame by frame. The air here was a complex tapestry of "Oriental Suspense": the cloying lavender of the Empress's authority, the metallic tang of hidden arsenic, and a new, chilling note—the sharp, ozone-heavy scent of a laboratory where "Traditional Chinese Medicine" had been twisted into a weapon of war.
"Follow your heart and your nose, Mei," she whispered to herself, using a relaxed mentality to manage the "time-limited crisis" of the ringing bells. She stopped before a heavy oak door inscribed with forbidden Taoist seals. Behind it, the scent of the "apocalypse" was concentrated—the musk of the wolf and the sterile bitterness of processed poison. With a hand that remained steady despite the looming danger, she used a silver needle to pick the lock, entering the forge where the Tang Dynasty's "Lunar Warriors" were being manufactured.
Meanwhile, atop the Great Watchtower, the night was a "heart-pounding mystery" of silver and blood. Prince Zhao stood against the moonlit sky, his "invincible" warrior form already straining against the limits of his silk robes. Before him stood the Lunar General—a man whose "complex personality" was a mirror of Zhao's own darkness, but one who had completely surrendered to the Seven Deadly Sins of greed and pride. The General's eyes were not gold, but a fractured, glowing silver, his skin shimmering with the "Ability" dimension of the curse.
"The Empress offers a world where the strong do not hide," the Lunar General rasped, his voice a guttural sound that enlivened the atmosphere with a sense of dread. He lunged with a speed that defied human "rationality," his claws leaving trails of silver light in the purple air.
Zhao intercepted the strike, his silver-gray talons sparking against the General's unnatural skin. The "disagreement and conflict" was explicit and direct, a technique used to create a "greater high" for the reader. As they fought, Zhao's own "character growth" reached a tipping point; he was no longer just protecting his throne, but the woman who was currently risking her life in the labyrinth below.
Back in the laboratory, Mei's nostrils flared as she discovered a row of steaming vats. The scent was unmistakable: her father's medicinal tea, but laced with a "supernatural force" that turned it into a catalyst for the werewolf transformation. She realized with a jolt of "immersion" that the Empress wasn't just curing a plague; she was "kingdom building" with an army of monsters.
"A good beginning is half the battle," Mei breathed, pulling her father's journal from her robes to cross-reference the "temporary solution". She began to mix a neutralizing compound, her fingers flying with the precision of a "godly writer" crafting a world. But just as she prepared to add the final herb, the scent of the room changed.
The "lavender and arsenic" was no longer just in the air—it was behind her.
"You have a fascinating nose, Alchemist," the Empress Dowager's voice slid through the darkness like a silk-wrapped blade.
At the same moment atop the watchtower, Zhao's "cliffhanger" arrived. As he prepared to deliver a finishing blow to the Lunar General, the imperial bells struck a new, discordant note. Zhao felt the "Golden Finger" of the Empress's command surge through his blood, forcing his body into a "rough and unnatural" final transformation.