Ling Zhihao's patience had run out.
"She interferes again," he said coldly, fingers tapping against the table. "Again and again!"
The shadows in his chamber did not move. His advisers kept their heads low.
"A blade is no longer enough," Ling Zhihao continued. "Too close. Too uncertain."
He turned toward a bundle of scrolls laid open across the table—foreign sketches, crude but promising.
"If she is always near the empress," he said slowly, "then distance is our ally."
One adviser hesitated. "My lord… those designs—"
"—are weapons from the western." Ling Zhihao finished. "Fire and thunder sealed in iron."
A flintlock.
Primitive. Unstable.
Deadly.
"Prepare it," he ordered. "If it fails, it will be blamed on chance. If it succeeds—"
He smiled thinly.
"—the empress loses her shield."
---
Two days later, the Palace shook.
A thunderous boom tore through the western service quarter, sending smoke spiraling into the sky. Servants screamed. Guards rushed forward. The smell of sulfur and scorched wood filled the air.
Xin Ying arrived moments later, already tying her sleeve back.
"No one enter yet," she ordered calmly. "You'll destroy the traces."
The three highest clans soon followed.
Wang Tianhua's expression darkened as he surveyed the shattered wall. "This was no accident."
Zhang Shuqin knelt, examining the ground. "No collapse pattern. The force came from inside."
Li Yuetong's eyes moved to Xin Ying. "What do you see?"
Xin Ying crouched near the blast mark, fingers hovering just above the blackened floor.
"Burn marks radiating outward," she said. "Not oil. Not firewood."
She picked up a fragment of metal—warped, brittle.
"This wasn't meant to explode," Xin Ying continued. "It was pressure failure."
"Pressure from what?" Wang Tianhua asked.
Xin Ying inhaled slowly.
"Gunpowder."
Silence fell.
"Gunpowder?" Zhang Shuqin echoed sharply. "That substance is forbidden in the Palace."
"And unstable if improperly sealed," Xin Ying added.
"Especially if compressed into a narrow chamber."
She stood.
"Someone was trying to create a weapon," she said evenly.
"But they lacked the technique. The pressure built too fast and detonated early."
Li Yuetong's gaze sharpened. "Can you tell who did it?"
Xin Ying shook her head. "Not yet. Whoever handled this knew enough to hide their trail."
She paused, then added quietly:
"But this explosion wasn't meant for the room."
The meaning settled heavily between them.
Wang Tianhua's hand tightened. "It was meant for a person."
Xin Ying did not answer—but her eyes flicked, briefly, toward the inner Palace.
That night, Li Hua summoned Xin Ying privately.
"You were nearly hurt today," Li Hua said, voice controlled but tight.
Xin Ying smiled faintly. "Not the first time."
Li Hua stepped closer. "They're escalating."
"So are we," Xin Ying replied gently.
Li Hua searched her face. "Do you know who's behind it?"
Xin Ying hesitated.
"I know why," she said carefully. "Not who."
Li Hua exhaled slowly. "That's enough for now."
She reached out, gripping Xin Ying's sleeve—not as an empress, but as a woman afraid of losing someone.
"Promise me," Li Hua said, "you won't face this alone."
Xin Ying covered her hand. "I won't."
But in her heart, unease stirred.
The plot is moving faster, she thought.
And the weapon wasn't meant for me… yet.
Far away, in the Ling clan's territory, Ling Zhihao stared at the report of the failed experiment.
"…So it exploded early," he muttered.
Then he smiled.
"That's fine," he said softly. "Now we know it works."
---
Thank you for reading my novel