The air in the Empress Dowager's secret laboratory was thick with the scent of "lavender and arsenic," a lethal signature that had haunted Li Mei's family for a generation. As the Empress stepped from the shadows, her presence was not just royal; it was an "antagonist" of complex proportions, blurring the lines between a protector of the empire and a "pure evil" architect of chaos. Mei stood before the vats of steaming, tainted tea, her "Golden Finger" vibrating with the intensity of the "Oriental Suspense" that had now reached its boiling point.
"You have your father's eyes, Li Mei," the Empress remarked, her voice a "silk-wrapped blade" that carried the scent of ancient, cold ambition. "And unfortunately, his stubborn curiosity. He could never understand that to preserve the Tang, one must occasionally embrace the 'wild and wonderful'—even if it wears the skin of a beast".
Mei's hand gripped her needle case, her "rationality and responsibility" warring with the sheer terror of the "time-limited crisis" unfolding on the watchtower above. She could smell the "Qi deviation" in the air, a scent that now carried the distinct frequency of the imperial bells—a "Golden Finger" trigger designed to override human "rationality" and awaken the "overpowered" predator within.
"My father saw a plague, Your Majesty," Mei countered, her voice steady as she "analyzed" the laboratory with an author's perspective. "He saw that your 'Lunar Warriors' were not an 'upgrade system' for the empire, but a 'military unit' of mindless slaves who would eventually turn on their master".
Meanwhile, atop the Great Watchtower, Prince Zhao was losing the "marathon" for his soul. The imperial bells were no longer just sound; they were a "System" of command that resonated with the silver-shadow musk in his blood. As he pinned the Lunar General against the stone parapet, his "invincible" warrior form shuddered, his bones clicking into "stiff and unnatural" shapes. The "sexual tension" and bond he shared with Mei were the only anchors left, a "touching highlight" of humanity in a world of silver-furred horror.
The Lunar General laughed, a sound that "detracted from the reading experience" of the night's supposed glory. "Give in, Zhao! The Empress is the 'Puppet Master'. Your 'character growth' ends here, as a dog on a golden leash!".
Back in the laboratory, the Empress Dowager moved toward Mei, her scent of "lavender" intensifying until it was a suffocating "information dump" of power. She held a jade whistle, a "cheat" designed to harmonize with the bells and trigger the final, irreversible change in any "beast" within earshot.
"You have a choice, Alchemist," the Empress whispered, her eyes reflecting the "lust and greed" of a ruler who would sacrifice her own kin for "kingdom building". "Use your father's notes to stabilize the transformation, making them perfect soldiers, and I will clear your father's name. Or, watch as the Prince becomes the very thing that destroys your family's legacy".
Mei looked at the vats, then at the "Golden Quote" inscribed on her father's journal: Medicine is the mercy of the gods, but truth is the fire that purifies the earth. She realized that "first impressions" were indeed essential; the Empress had always been the predator, and Zhao was the "protagonist" she was destined to save, not just as a healer, but as a partner in "counterattack and revenge".
"The Tang does not need an army of monsters," Mei declared, her fingers selecting a specific silver needle—not for healing, but for "sabotage". "It needs a Prince who remembers what it is to be a man."
As she moved to destroy the "power system" of the vats, the Empress raised the jade whistle to her lips. Atop the watchtower, Zhao let out a scream that was neither man nor wolf, but a "cliffhanger" of raw, agonizing transition.