The problem arrived without urgency.
That was what made it dangerous.
It came as a routine report, delivered in the late morning when the sun had already burned off the chill and the compound moved at its steady, practiced pace.
Gu Hao read it once.
Then again.
He did not react.
A convoy from the southern market had been delayed.
Not stopped.Not seized.
Delayed.
Two days longer than expected.
No injuries reported.No goods lost.
Just… waiting.
Gu Hao folded the report and set it aside.
Outside his study, a group of children were reciting lessons, their voices uneven but earnest. A scribe crossed the courtyard with an armful of ledgers, nearly colliding with a cultivator who apologized before either realized whose fault it was.
Everything looked normal.
That was the point.
Gu Hao did not call Gu Jian.
He did not summon Gu Qing.
He went for a walk.
The southern road curved gently past the outer fields, where new shoots pushed through soil darkened by recent irrigation. Mortals worked in pairs, talking quietly. A cultivator stood nearby, not supervising, just present.
Gu Hao slowed as he walked.
Delays happened.
That was the truth.
But delays also hid patterns.
He stopped near the grain storehouse and leaned against the cool stone wall. The report replayed itself in his mind, not as words but as timing.
Two days.
Not enough to panic.
Too long to ignore.
On Earth, Gu Hao had learned that most failures did not announce themselves as crises. They appeared as tolerable inefficiencies that people postponed dealing with.
"I'll look into it later" was the most expensive sentence in business.
Here, the cost could be blood.
Gu Hao returned to his study and closed the door.
He sat down, but did not meditate.
Instead, he rested his forearms on the table and stared at the grain of the wood.
The Commerce token lay to one side.His notebook lay to the other.
Between them, empty space.
He could use the simulator.
One year.
One minute of enlightened clarity.
He could see whether this delay mattered.
Whether it would resolve itself.
Whether it would compound.
The cost was known.
So was the danger.
Gu Hao remembered the feeling from the night before.
The way the world had aligned.
How easy it would be to reach for that again.
Too easy.
There was a knock at the door.
Gu Hao did not answer immediately.
The knock came again, lighter this time.
"Enter," he said.
Gu Qing stepped in, holding a second report.
"I was just coming to see you," Gu Qing said. "It's about the southern route."
Gu Hao gestured for him to sit.
"They sent a clarification," Gu Qing said. "Apparently the delay was due to a temporary labor shortage at a relay station. Nothing hostile."
Gu Hao nodded slowly.
"Temporary," he repeated.
"Yes," Gu Qing said. "They expect movement to resume by tomorrow."
Gu Hao studied his face.
Gu Qing believed it.
That mattered.
"And if it doesn't?" Gu Hao asked.
Gu Qing hesitated. "Then we look deeper."
Gu Hao leaned back slightly.
"And if we wait too long to look deeper?"
Gu Qing was quiet for a moment.
"Then we'll be reacting," he said.
Gu Hao nodded.
"Thank you," he said.
Gu Qing left.
Gu Hao was alone again.
He did not move.
He let the silence stretch.
This was the moment the simulator tempted him.
Not with power.
With relief.
Use it, and the uncertainty would vanish.
Use it, and the doubt would resolve into direction.
Gu Hao stood abruptly and crossed the room.
He opened the window.
Warm air rushed in, carrying the smell of soil and grain.
Below, the children had finished reciting. One laughed too loudly and was shushed. Another dropped a slate and scrambled to pick it up.
Life did not pause for clarity.
Gu Hao closed the window and returned to the table.
He placed his hand flat beside the notebook.
Not on it.
Beside it.
"Legacy Simulator," he said in his mind.
The presence responded immediately.
[Legacy Simulator — Ready][Fate Points Available: 1,140][100 Fate Points → 1 Minute Enlightened State]
Gu Hao did not confirm.
Instead, he asked a question.
"What happens if I don't use you?"
There was no response.
Of course there wasn't.
The simulator did not argue.
It did not persuade.
It only offered.
Gu Hao smiled faintly.
That was what made it dangerous.
He withdrew his hand.
"No," he said quietly.
Not yet.
Instead, he did something slower.
He summoned Gu Jian and Gu Rui together.
No urgency.
No alarm.
They arrived within minutes.
"Southern route delay," Gu Hao said. "I want eyes on it."
Gu Jian nodded. "Discreet?"
"Yes," Gu Hao replied. "No confrontation."
Gu Rui added, "I'll send two mortals with trade experience. Less threatening."
"Good," Gu Hao said. "Have them observe, not intervene."
"And if they find something?" Gu Jian asked.
Gu Hao paused.
"Then we decide," he said.
Not I.
We.
That mattered to Gu Hao.
If he relied too much on the simulator, others would stop thinking.
Stop challenging.
Stop growing.
A clan led by certainty alone was fragile.
The day passed.
Reports came in from other fronts.
Nothing urgent.
Nothing broken.
By evening, Gu Hao almost believed he had overthought the delay.
Almost.
The message arrived after dusk.
Short.
Precise.
From Gu Rui.
Relay station operating.Labor shortage real.But two caravans ahead of ours moved through without delay.
Gu Hao read it twice.
Then closed his eyes.
There it was.
Not hostility.
Preference.
That kind of problem did not resolve itself.
It grew.
Quietly.
Gu Hao sat down and placed both hands on the table.
He did not hesitate this time.
"Consume one minute," he said internally.
The shift came instantly.
Not overwhelming.
Focused.
The southern route unfolded in his mind.
He saw the relay station as a node with limited capacity. He saw influence flowing not from force, but from convenience. He saw how small favors were traded for speed. How delays became leverage without anyone ever issuing an order.
He saw the pattern extend forward.
If left alone, Gu Clan convoys would continue to wait just long enough to be disadvantaged, never enough to justify complaint.
Not an attack.
A squeeze.
The minute ended.
The clarity receded.
Gu Hao opened his eyes.
[Fate Points Remaining: 1,040]
He did not feel relief.
He felt confirmation.
That was acceptable.
Gu Hao stood and immediately acted.
Not with force.
With presence.
He sent a message to the relay station.
Not a demand.
A courtesy.
Gu Clan would fund temporary labor for the next three months. Wages paid in advance. No exclusivity required.
Just stability.
The reply came faster than expected.
Grateful.
Efficient.
Movement resumed the next day.
Gu Hao did not tell anyone about the simulator.
He did not need to.
What mattered was that the decision had been human, guided but not replaced by foresight.
That night, Gu Hao sat alone again.
The Commerce token lay untouched.
The notebook open.
He wrote carefully.
Use borrowed clarity only to confirm direction —never to replace walking the path.
He closed the book.
Outside, the southern convoy rolled into the compound just before midnight.
Late.
But intact.
Gu Hao watched from the window as the gates closed behind it.
Not a victory.
A correction.
The Gu Clan had taken another step.
Small.
Unseen.
But cumulative.
And Gu Hao knew now that time itself had become a resource he could borrow.
The challenge was not whether he could use it.
It was whether he would still be human when he did.