The empire's northern provinces had grown tense under the subtle disturbances Jeng Minh had detected. Villages abandoned, patrols vanishing without a trace, and faint signs of fortifications appearing where none had existed before. It was the mark of a strategist testing the waters—a precision unseen since Lan Yue's shadow network.
Jeng Minh convened a private council with Bai Ye and a handful of trusted generals. "The Phoenix is not a conventional threat," he began, tracing the routes of the mysterious forces on a detailed map. "Every movement is deliberate, every action calculated to gauge our response. They are learning, adapting… almost like a living mind."
Bai Ye frowned. "Do we know who—or what—they are?"
"Not yet," Jeng Minh replied. "But there are signs. Their mobility, their ability to remain undetected, and the coded communications—they speak of discipline, intelligence, and resources far beyond a simple rebellion. Whoever commands them understands strategy, patience, and influence."
He paused, eyes scanning the horizon from the council hall's window. "Lan Yue was a shadow, confined by human networks and predictable patterns. The Phoenix, however… is something else. It strikes indirectly, leaves little trace, and tests the limits of our perception. We cannot fight what we do not fully understand."
Bai Ye swallowed, unease evident. "Then what do we do? Wait for them to act?"
"Observation is the first move," Jeng Minh said, voice steady. "We establish intelligence, infiltrate their network, and seek their weaknesses. Every force has a flaw, every mind a blind spot. The Phoenix may rise, but even flames can be guided, extinguished, or contained if approached with patience and precision."
Jeng Minh dispatched scouts and spies along northern routes, carefully planting misinformation while gathering subtle hints of the Phoenix's identity. It was during one intercepted message, encrypted and marked with the distinctive phoenix emblem, that a key revelation emerged: the force was led by a strategist not unlike Lan Yue—but far more disciplined, commanding not a network of shadows, but an organized, self-sufficient army with its own intelligence system.
"The Phoenix is not acting randomly," Jeng Minh mused, studying the document. "Every village, every patrol—calculated. Their ultimate aim… is still unclear, but it involves the northern territories. They seek leverage, not chaos."
Bai Ye's concern deepened. "Leverage for what?"
Jeng Minh's lips curved into a thin, calculating smile. "Power. Control. Influence. And like every opponent I have faced, they will reveal themselves fully when they believe the conditions favor them. Our task is to guide those conditions, unseen, until the moment of confrontation is in our favor."
He rose, moving to the balcony once more. The northern wind carried the scent of frost and smoke from distant forests. "The Phoenix is clever, patient, and bold. But so am I. This is not merely a battle of armies; it is a duel of perception, strategy, and influence. Whoever can shape the battlefield before it unfolds… will win."
Bai Ye nodded slowly. "Then we prepare. Quietly, unseen, and with caution. We cannot afford mistakes."
"Exactly," Jeng Minh said. "And one mistake is all it takes for a rising phoenix to become a falling one."
Far beyond the northern borders, under the shadow of jagged mountains, the Phoenix watched the empire. Its scouts returned with information, reporting carefully observed movements and subtle responses from the northern governors. The commander's eyes gleamed with ambition and strategy—a mind ready to challenge even the empire itself.
The next war of influence had begun.