The secret report in the Hall of No Lanterns was like a stone cast into a lake, stirring ripples—neither too small nor too large.
Three days later, a brief message arrived at Li Ze's desk:
> [At dawn, ascend the top pavilion of the Scripture Tower.]
No signature.
The Scripture Tower was the highest building in Tianqi Academy, with seven floors. The top pavilion was usually sealed off, accessible only to the "Three Academic Officials." As Li Ze arrived as instructed, he found two men waiting under the eaves.
One was Wen Qishan, the senior official in his fifties, stern-faced and dressed in dark robes; the other was Han Lingshu, the thirty-something lecturer of Military Strategy, wearing wide-sleeved robes and sharp eyes.
Li Ze bowed. Wen said nothing, but Han smiled first:
"You're Li Ze? Interesting—bold, and your writing is impressive."
Li Ze stood calmly:
"I seek no fame, only accountability."
Finally Wen spoke in a calm tone:
"We've read your secret report. You accuse the Relief Department of corruption. Though the evidence is incomplete, it's clear you put in effort."
He glanced out the window.
"But do you know—your phrase, 'The people's suffering lies not in disaster, but in power,' crosses a line."
"In this court, to speak of 'power' is almost to speak of the 'sovereign.'"
Li Ze answered plainly:
"If authority turns cold to living beings, I am willing to be its whip."
Wen's eyes hardened but he did not scold. Instead, he nodded slightly:
"Good. Very good."
After a pause, Han grinned:
"Care to play a game of chess?"
Inside the tower was a giant chessboard, black and white stones lined up like soldiers. Han invited Li Ze to play and casually set up the "Nine-Child Trap" —a notorious formation that many academy students struggled to break on their first entry.
Failing meant a lack of wit, unfit to join the inner circle.
Li Ze glanced once, thought briefly, and placed his piece in the lower-left corner.
Han was surprised:
"You're sacrificing the center for a corner?"
Li Ze smiled:
"The center is trapped, no escape. Sometimes breaking the pattern isn't about winning—it's about surviving."
Han laughed heartily and placed his piece down:
"You're definitely here to stir things up."
Wen said quietly:
"Let him stir."
"Li Ze, do you accept the Academy's 'External Affairs Token'? From today, you are no longer a mere student, but one who 'steps onto the field.'"
Li Ze was stunned, then knelt solemnly:
"I accept."
The Academy had a secret system called "Stepping onto the Field."
Such individuals were still students but allowed to act on the court's fringes, conducting secret investigations, questioning officials, guarding documents, and submitting rebuttal memorials—the empire's most covert "pen hands."
Once given the External Affairs Token, you entered the political game with no retreat.
That very night, Li Ze was secretly sent to the "Dark Archives" courtyard, receiving a silver badge, scholar's robe, and a secret order.
Only six words were written on the order:
> [Find the mastermind. Show no mercy.]
He read quietly for a long moment and asked softly:
"Who issued this order?"
The messenger answered:
"Not the Academy. It's from above."
"From above?"
"The Ministry of Justice's Grand Prosecutor, Shen Guanhai."
Li Ze stepped out of the Dark Archives. A cold wind lifted his robe, and for the first time, he truly realized—he had stepped into the empire's real world.
Thousands of miles away in the southern capital, a man in black with a cold expression flipped through a copy of the missing grain report.
After reading the last sentence, a faint smile curved his lips.
An aide whispered:
"Master, should we eliminate him?"
The man shook his head slowly:
"Not yet. His pen is sharper than any blade. Let's see how deep he can cut."
He tossed the report into the fire and stared at the flames, murmuring:
"Li Ze, if you truly dare challenge power, I'll stir the pot for you."