Xingzhao slept beneath a sea of stars, unaware that beneath the hum of peace, danger had once again crept into its walls. But Song Lian had always planned for the unseen.
Scattered across rooftops, inside lampposts, under false panels in trees and towers, small, almost invisible cameras rotated in calculated arcs, capturing everything.
She had never spoken of them openly, even to Yun Zhen, but they had been the very first thing she installed when the town was still a scattered cluster of rebuilt homes. And now, those watchful eyes bore silent witness to betrayal.
Ji Ming, or rather Agent 11 of the Black Hall, moved with precision through the alley behind the old bakery, where few lights reached. He had chosen this route carefully.
There were no guards posted near the storage shed, no patrols scheduled to pass for at least fifteen minutes. He thought it was a perfect window.
But the moment he pulled a new scroll from his robe, the hidden lens embedded in the corner of a stone wall zoomed in and locked focus on the ink shimmer that glowed only under certain frequencies. The AI-powered recognition module, dormant for weeks, activated immediately.
Keyword match: "Song Lian."
Status: Unregistered resident. Suspicious language detected.
ALERT—Security breach.
By the time Ji Ming had folded the scroll, preparing to dispatch the second encoded message, three shadows moved silently through the alley.
The soldiers came dressed in midnight-black combat uniforms—tactically trained, armed with stun rods and silenced sidearms. No one screamed. No one saw. In under thirty seconds, Agent 11's mouth was gagged, his arms bound, and he was dragged into a hidden passage behind the bakery.
He was never seen again.
The next morning, the town awoke to a strange announcement. A rare one. Song Lian stood in the town square, flanked by Yun Zhen and Captain Wei, the soldier now heading Xingzhao's security division.
The townspeople gathered quickly. Some looked around nervously, wondering if more danger had followed them into this so-called sanctuary.
Mothers held their children closer. Traders quieted. Even the younger soldiers, just finishing training, stood stiff with anticipation. Song Lian's voice was calm, but firm.
"There was a man among us," she said. "He was not who he claimed to be. He was caught attempting to send messages to the enemies of Xingzhao."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. "He will not harm us again," she continued.
"But this event reminds us of something important. Our strength makes us a target. We must not become complacent."
She paused, then gestured to a thin, rectangular object in her hand.
"In three days, we will begin issuing SmartIdentity Cards to every resident of Xingzhao."
The card was simple in appearance, sleek, white, the size of a palm. But it pulsed softly with internal circuitry, marked by a QR sigil embedded in the corner.
Song Lian had personally developed the system, a mixture of modern biometric encryption and a subtle spiritual imprint that bonded the card to its holder.
She continued, voice unwavering.
"These cards will be used for identification, access, and resource distribution. No one may enter or exit the city without one. Every card will be linked to the individual's name, background, and fingerprint. They will also log movement within public sectors of Xingzhao."
Murmurs spread. Some were uneasy. Others nodded in approval.
"This is for your safety," she said. "For our future."
Yun Zhen stepped forward next. His voice, deeper and sharper, rang through the square.
"All citizens will go through a background check before receiving their cards. Those with unclear origins or histories will be questioned, and, if needed, investigated. We are no longer just survivors. We are builders of something greater. We cannot afford weakness from within."
There was silence. Then a voice rang out, a middle-aged woman from the weaving district.
"You caught the spy before he could do harm. If this system keeps us safe, we'll stand behind it."
And like a wave, the crowd began to nod. Later that evening, in the command chamber beneath the council hall, Song Lian spread out the blueprints for the card system before Yun Zhen.
"They'll adjust," she said quietly. "A few will resist, but most will see the sense in it."
Yun Zhen studied the card's internal chip and the fingerprint scanner. "It's not just about safety," he said, glancing at her. "It's about control."
"I'd rather control a door than bury another innocent," she replied.
He nodded, then added more softly, "Still… it's a lot of power, Song Lian."
She looked up, meeting his gaze. "That's why I trust you to keep me grounded."
There was a moment—brief, fragile, unspoken, where their hands brushed over the blueprints. Neither pulled away. His heart beat faster. But again, the words caught in his throat. So instead, he simply smiled.
Far south, deep within a hidden cave beneath Yunhua City, the red-veiled leader of the Black Hall reviewed the last report they had received from Agent 11. A low-ranking attendant approached, whispering.
"No further messages. He is presumed dead."
The woman's expression remained calm, almost serene.
"Then we move to Plan Two," she said.
She looked at the map on the wall again where Xingzhao had been marked with a black sigil.
"This woman has secrets. And we will uncover them… even if it takes burning that town to the ground."