The capital was a city of mirrors—every smile could hide a dagger, every bow could mask a threat. Jeng Minh walked through the grand corridors of the palace, Zhou Chen's armor gleaming faintly in the candlelight, but the real power came from the pulse of the chain in his chest. It guided him not through brute strength alone, but through perception, calculation, and subtle influence.
Bai Ye flanked him silently. "The hidden faction is aware," he said. "Their moves grow bolder, though their cohesion is faltering. They're testing your reactions, seeing if the warlord can be manipulated."
Jeng Minh nodded. "Then we give them the illusion of opportunity." His eyes swept over the courtiers and ministers milling in the hall. Every gesture, every whispered conversation, was a thread he could manipulate. "We turn the city into a chessboard. Every move will force them to reveal themselves, every piece played according to their own ambitions."
Feng approached with a stack of reports and letters. "My lord, nobles from the northern provinces are seeking to negotiate independent trade agreements. If allowed, it could strengthen the hidden faction."
"Then we meet them on our terms," Jeng Minh replied. "Invite them to court, offer them influence—but make it contingent on loyalty. The chain will sense their intent."
The first strategic meeting was set at twilight. Jeng Minh entered the hall with Zhou Chen's commanding presence, and the nobles arrived, unaware that their every gesture was being read and evaluated. The chain pulsed in rhythm with their hidden intentions, guiding him to subtle pressure points, small phrases that could prod ambition or instill doubt.
A noble from the north, speaking with excessive confidence, revealed a hint of impatience in his microexpressions—the chain highlighted it with a sharp pulse. Jeng Minh subtly redirected the discussion, questioning minor details and praising another, less ambitious noble. The northern noble's facade faltered. He masked it with laughter, but the chain had already exposed his restlessness.
Meanwhile, Xie Yaling moved silently among the attendants, planting information that would further unsettle the hidden faction. Rumors of minor betrayals, carefully chosen, began to spread. The chain guided Jeng Minh to recognize which whispers would take hold and which would be ignored.
By nightfall, the nobles left, subtly influenced, their alliances fraying at the edges. The hidden faction, sensing the shift, began making their own desperate moves, though Jeng Minh already anticipated their reactions.
Bai Ye's voice was quiet but approving. "They believe they are plotting in shadows, yet they dance to your tune. Few could manipulate the court so deftly without revealing their hand."
Jeng Minh's gaze swept the hall. "The vessel and the chain are learning the same principle: true control comes not from intimidation, but from shaping perception. Let them think they are moving freely… while we set the stage."
As the night deepened, the chain's pulse settled into a steady rhythm, signaling temporary equilibrium—but Jeng Minh knew the war was far from over. The hidden faction would strike again, bolder and more desperate. And when they did, the vessel would be ready, turning their ambition into their downfall.
For the first time, he felt the weight of his growing influence—and the thrill of mastery. The capital was no longer just a city; it was a battlefield of minds, and he had become the unseen hand controlling every move.
The chain throbbed faintly in his chest, a reminder of the power it granted—and the vigilance it demanded. The warlord had awakened, and the game of shadows had only just begun.