Dawn in the Azure Dragon Empire was a time of ritual, a quiet hour of preparation before the Son of Heaven held court. For Wei Ji, standing in the dewy chill of the Garden of Whispering Willows, it felt like the hour of his execution.
The garden was not empty. A crowd had gathered—not a formal assembly, but a collection of minor officials, curious servants, and a few lower-ranked military disciples. They stood in clusters among the artfully arranged willows and rockeries, their breath misting in the cold air. They had come for bloodsport. The news of a Foundation Establishment cultivator challenging the mortal minister had spread like a winter fever.
Wei Ji felt their eyes on him. He wore his single presentable robe. In his hands, he carried not a sword, but a scroll case of cheap, unvarnished wood. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic, mortal rhythm. This is a parliament floor, he told himself. The weapons are different, but the game is the same.
Then Bai Jian arrived.
The young cultivator entered the garden not through the path, but by leaping from a low rooftop, landing with a soft crunch of gravel that spoke of controlled power. He was nineteen, clad in the silver-trimmed grey robes of a military disciple. A sleek, unadorned sword was sheathed at his hip. His face was all sharp angles and unchecked arrogance, the look of a young hawk from a minor nest desperate to prove itself to the larger birds. His cultivation aura was a tangible pressure, a dense, heavy feeling in the air that made the onlookers instinctively take a half-step back. Foundation Establishment, early stage. To them, he was a demigod. To Wei Ji, he was a problem to be solved.
"Wei Ji," Bai Jian called, his voice ringing in the hushed garden. He didn't use a title. "You have kept your coward's promise. I commend you for not fleeing."
Wei Ji said nothing. He walked to the center of the open clearing, the designated dueling ground. He could feel another presence, a watching from a higher place. In a covered pavilion on a small hill overlooking the garden, a figure in blue and silver stood almost invisible in the shadows. The Empress. The referee was in her box.
Bai Jian strode forward, stopping ten paces away. He unsheathed his sword with a metallic shing that seemed to cut the morning itself. The blade gleamed, faintly humming with contained Qi.
"Draw your weapon, mortal," Bai Jian sneered. "Or kneel and kowtow now, and I may only break your legs."
The crowd leaned in, hungry.
Wei Ji unrolled his scroll. The parchment crackled, an absurdly mundane sound against the threat of the sword. "My weapon is here, Disciple Bai," Wei Ji said, his voice calm, projecting to the edges of the clearing. "I do not challenge you to a duel of blades. I challenge you to a duel of knowledge. Of law."
Bai Jian blinked, his sneer faltering for a second. "What?"
"Article Fourteen, Section Three, of the Imperial Military Code, revised in the seventh year of the Azure Reign," Wei Ji read, his eyes on the scroll. His research with Old Wen had lasted through the night. "'All sanctioned duels of honor between a member of the imperial military and a civil official of the fifth rank or above must be witnessed and validated by three officials of higher rank than both combatants.' Where are your witnesses, Disciple Bai?"
A murmur went through the crowd. This was not what they came for.
Bai Jian's jaw tightened. He glanced toward two older disciples at the garden's edge. "I have two witnesses. Captains of the Guard."
"Two," Wei Ji repeated, tapping his scroll. "Not three. Furthermore, one of those captains reports to General Tie, who is your maternal uncle. This constitutes a conflict of interest, rendering the witness invalid under the principles of impartial judgment. Your duel is procedurally void."
The arrogance on Bai Jian's face was now mixed with confusion and dawning anger. He was a sword; he knew how to cut. He did not know how to untangle legal knots. "You hide behind paperwork! I challenge you here, now! The code does not apply!"
"The code always applies," Wei Ji said, taking a step forward, his own form of aggression. "Especially for a member of the Iron Mountain Sect, whose family holds the exclusive imperial contract for supplying purified beast cores to the Northern Mountain Garrison." He paused, letting the specific detail land. He saw Bai Jian's eyes widen slightly. "Clause Eight of that contract, which I reviewed last night, explicitly prohibits signatory family members from engaging in any activity that poses a high risk of personal injury or death which would impede the fulfillment of contractual obligations. Duelling to the death qualifies."
Wei Ji took another step. The cultivator, unnervingly, took a half-step back.
"Think, Disciple Bai," Wei Ji said, his voice dropping, becoming conversational, almost kindly. "If you kill me—a minister, however worthless—there will be an inquiry. The Office of Revenue, which dislikes your family's monopoly, will seize on the contract violation. The contract could be defaulted, fines levied that would cripple your house. If I kill you…" Wei Ji shrugged. "Well, that's impossible. But if you are injured, even by your own misstep during an illicit duel, the same result: your family fails to deliver cores. The garrison's formation falters. That's not a fine; that's treason. Your family's wealth, your standing, your father's head… all balanced on your ability to swing a sword today."
The color drained from Bai Jian's face. He had been sent as a blunt instrument. No one had explained the trigger mechanism or what the weapon was connected to. The sword in his hand suddenly felt incredibly heavy.
The crowd was utterly silent now. The drama had twisted from the physical to the cerebral, and they were riveted.
"I propose an alternative," Wei Ji announced, rolling up his scroll with a definitive snap. "A contest worthy of men who serve the empire. The northern border reports skirmishes with the Ice Barbarians of the Zhao tribe. You and I will each write a strategic assessment and solution. We will submit them to the Office of Military Affairs. Let the senior strategists judge. If your solution is deemed superior, I will publicly resign my post and leave the capital. If mine is superior, you will publicly apologize for your brashness and serve in my office as a liaison for one month."
He offered the bargain to the crowd as much as to Bai Jian. It was face-saving. It was intellectually grand. It was a complete retreat from violence, dressed up as a higher calling.
Bai Jian stood frozen, his sword pointing at the ground. He looked from Wei Ji's placid face to the watching crowd, to the distant pavilion where the ultimate authority observed. He was trapped in a cage of his own making, a cage built of paragraphs and clauses.
His shoulders slumped. The proud, humming Qi aura around him guttered like a damp candle. "I… accept the alternative contest," he muttered, the words ash in his mouth.
A collective, disappointed sigh rustled through the willows. The show was over. No blood, no flash of Qi, just words. The crowd began to disperse, shaking their heads, already crafting the story of the strange minister who talked a cultivator into submission.
As Bai Jian sheathed his sword with a rough, angry motion and stalked away, a young palace eunuch Wei Ji didn't recognize approached. He bowed and presented a small, folded note on paper so fine it felt like silk.
Wei Ji opened it. The characters were written in a familiar, elegant hand.
Clever.
But cleverness doesn't win wars.
—L
The Empress. Her feedback was a stone in his gut. He had survived, he had won, and yet her message stripped any warmth from the victory. She was watching a different game entirely.
Back in the Office of Nothing, Old Wen was waiting, his face alight with anxious hope. "Minister! The rumors are already flying! They say you… you dissolved the duel with wisdom!"
"I dissolved it with a ledger entry," Wei Ji said, tossing the Empress's note onto the empty desk. The cold satisfaction was there, but it was thin, overshadowed by her words.
Old Wen's expression grew shrewd. "I took the liberty of making inquiries after you left. The Bai family's financial situation is… precarious. Their contract is their lifeline. You didn't just avoid a duel, Minister. By invoking the clause, you saved them from potential ruin. They are now, quietly, in your debt."
Wei Ji looked up. That was an angle he hadn't fully calculated. He had sought to neutralize a threat, not create an obligation.
"Disciple Bai will arrive tomorrow to begin his month of service," Old Wen said. "What will you have him do?"
Wei Ji gazed at the dead patch of earth outside his window, then at the luxurious poison of the Empress's note. He had a cultivator servant, a fragile debt from a military family, and a sovereign who found him amusing but ultimately lacking.
"I'll have him stand outside," Wei Ji said finally. "A visible reminder. And then, Old Wen, we will teach him how to read a supply ledger. If cleverness doesn't win wars, perhaps logistics do."
The game had changed again. He was no longer just a piece avoiding capture. He was starting, haltingly, to move other pieces across the board. The Empress wanted to see a war won? He would have to build an army first. An army of paper, debt, and one very confused young swordsman.