Lin Feng's courtyard was a battlefield of scattered wood and jade, his Qi-powered waterwheel model half-built under the flickering light of a single lantern. The deadline loomed -- one day until the court's judgment, where he'd prove his worth or face banishment. The Jade Pendant pulsed against his chest, its runes glowing brighter since the archive ambush. Elder Mo's words about his mother and the "Star Key" echoed, hinting at the pendant was more than a relic. But the sabotaged Qi crystal from Li Xiyue's first crate had nearly cost him everything, and her new delivery sat unopened, its contents suspect. Prince Zhao's sect thugs were closing in, and Lin Feng's arm still bled from their last attack.
He slotted Elder Mo's qi crystal into the waterwheel model, its faint glow steady but weak. His engineer's mind raced, mapping the array like a circuit: the crystal channeled spiritual energy to spin the gears, pulling water from qi springs. The Star Key scroll mentioned artisans who powered machines with will, not just Qi. If the pendant's the key, I need it now, he thought, gripping it. Its heat flared, tracing faint lines in his mind—gear alignments, energy flowing-but it wasn't enough. He needed a working array, and his crippled meridians mocked him.
Lin Feng struck a flint, sparking the crystal. The model hummed, gears twitching, then sputtered, the crystal dimming. "Damn it," he muttered, slamming the table. The array was unstable, his lack of qi a wall he couldn't climb. The pendant pulsed, as if urging him to try again, but time was running out. Zhao's master, Sect Master Yun, was watching, and Su Mei's warning—"Be ready"—felt like a blade in his throat.
A knock broke his focus. Li Xiyue stood at the courtyard gate, her dark silk blending with the night, a new crate at her feet. "Your second chance, prince," she said. Her smile was sharp as a dagger. "Jade wood, two Qi crystals—better than the last batch. You make look like you need them." Her jasmine scent sparked suspicion. Too close to the archive stranger's.
Lin Feng's eyes narrowed. "Your last crate was sabotaged. Zhao's work, or yours?"
Her laugh was light, but her eyes glintered. "Don't trust me? Smart. But I want the west's trade routes to flow, and your toys might do it. Check the crystals intact, I swear." She pushed the crate forward and stepped back. "Don't waste my investment."
Lin Feng opened the crate, finding two glowing Qi crystals, brighter than Mo's. He swapped one for the model, hands shaking. The gears spun, faster this time, but the array sparked wildly, smoke rising as the crystal cracked. He cursed, yanking it out. "Another dud," he growled, glaring at Li Xiyue's retreating figure. Was she playing him, or was Zhao one step ahead?
A shout rang out. "Fifth Prince!" Four sect thugs in crimson-claw robes burst through the gate, their mid-Qi condensation auras flaring like fire. The leader, a broad man with a shaved head, sneered. "Secret Master Yun wants that pendant. Hand it over, or we will break you."
Lin Feng grabbed a jade shard, his only weapon. "Try it," he said, his voice steady despite his pounding heart. The thugs charged, swords gleaming. He dodged the first swing, tossing the broken model in the leader's face. It shattered, the gears flying slowly, slowing him. The second thug's blade grazed Lin Feng's ribs, pain searing, but he rolled away, clutching the pendant. Its glow flared, and a faint hum vibrated through the courtyard.
A white blur shot past. Su Mei's sword flashed, slicing the leader's arm, blood spraying. She spun, kicking another thug into the wall, his skull cracked. The third swung at her, but she parried, her aura freezing the air, and knocked him out with a strike to the neck. The fourth fled, cursing. Su Mei turns to Lin Feng, her eyes sharp. "You're a fool for staying here," she said, wiping blood from her blade. "Why keep fighting?"
Lin Feng panted, clutching his side. "Because I won't let Zhao win. This—" he held up the pendant, glowing faintly, "is my shot."
Su Mei's gaze softened, she just flickered. "Your shot's going to get you killed. Yun's not like Zhao—he's a Core Formation master. "Finish your toy, or you're done." She glanced at the smoldering model. "It moved. That's something." She vanished into the night, leaving Lin Feng with a racing heart and a spark of hope.
He limped to the crate, checking the second crystal. It glowed steadily, brighter than the first. He slotted it into a rebuilt model, his hands bloodied but precise. The pendant flared, its runes syncing with the crystal's light. The gears spun, smoother now, water sloshing in a test bucket. It worked for three seconds, then sparked and stopped. Close, Lin Feng thought, grinning despite the pain. The pendant guided him, even without qi.
Elder Mo appeared at the gate, his armor creaking. "Still alive, boy?" he said, tossing a cloth to wrap Lin Feng's wounds. "That pendant is waking. Your mother said it needed a spark of will. You got that?
Lin Feng nodded, tying the cloth. "She trusted them. I will too."
Mo grunted. "Yun's thugs are circling. They know you're close to something. Get that wheel working, or the court'll be the least of your worries."
As dawn crept over the palace, Lin Feng rebuilt the model, the pendant's heat steadying his hands. One day left, and Sect Master Yun's shadow loomed. Li Xiyue's crystals, Su Mei's rescues, Mo's warnings—everyone was betting on him, friend or foe. He gripped the Star Key scroll, its sketch matching the pendant's runes. One more push, he vowed. The court would see his fire, and Zhao would choke on it.