If the court wouldn't kill him, perhaps nature would. The Imperial Menagerie housed beasts that made assassins look tame.
Bai Yi stood before the wrought-iron gates. The air here was different. It smelled of wet earth, musk, and a sharp, ozone tang of raw spiritual power. Behind him, the serene palaces seemed like a painted backdrop. Here, everything felt raw and real. Real enough to kill me, he thought.
He had secured permission easily. "Minister Bai wishes to meditate in the presence of primal nature to further his poetic insights." The official had nodded, too awed to question it.
The Head Beastkeeper, a grizzled man with scars running down one arm, unlocked the gate. "Stay on the path, Minister," he grunted, eyeing Bai Yi's frail form with open skepticism. "The barriers are strong, but the creatures… their will is stronger."
"I seek only to observe the Shadow-Stalker Panther," Bai Yi said, keeping his voice flat.
The Beastkeeper's eyebrows shot up. "The Panther? It hasn't eaten today. It's… irritable. Even I don't go near its enclosure without three talismans active."
"Perfect," Bai Yi murmured.
He was led down a winding stone path, past pits where scaled things slithered and cages where birds with metallic feathers screamed. Finally, they reached a sunken grotto surrounded by a moat of churning, inky water. The enclosure was a mockery of a jungle, dark and dense.
In the center, on a flat black rock, it lay.
The Shadow-Stalker Panther was a living piece of the void given muscle and tooth. Its fur absorbed the light, making it a panther-shaped hole in the world. Only its eyes glowed, two emerald coals burning with pure, predatory intelligence. It was the most beautifully dangerous thing Bai Yi had ever seen.
This will work.
"Leave me," Bai Yi said to the Beastkeeper.
"Minister, I really must advise—"
"Leave."
The man retreated, but Bai Yi knew he would watch from a distance. Let him watch. Let him witness the "tragic accident."
Bai Yi stepped off the official path. He walked to the very edge of the moat, directly across from the panther. The creature's head lifted. Those green eyes locked onto his.
Make it a challenge.
Bai Yi held its gaze. He didn't look away. He took one step onto the narrow, ceremonial bridge that spanned the moat—a bridge meant for keepers, fortified with scripts. The panther rose to its feet in one fluid motion, silent. A low, subsonic growl vibrated through the stone beneath Bai Yi's feet.
His heart hammered against his ribs. This was not the clean fear of a blade. This was primal, ancient fear. The fear of being meat.
He took another step onto the bridge, now halfway across the moat. The panther's muscles coiled. It was going to spring.
Now.
Bai Yi didn't recite a poem. In the face of that perfect, predatory symmetry, a line from another world, written by another poet centuries dead, flashed in his mind with the clarity of a epitaph.
Tyger Tyger, burning bright… what immortal hand or eye… could frame thy fearful symmetry?
He didn't speak it aloud. He thought it, with all the terror and awe choking his throat.
The air around the attacking panther crystallized.
Geometric lines of soft, gold light—squares, triangles, interlocking circles—appeared from nowhere, wrapping around the beast in a glowing, three-dimensional net. It was a cage of pure concept, the mathematical idea of symmetry made manifest.
The panther, mid-leap, froze within the glowing lattice.
It hung in the air for a breathless second, then dropped lightly to the stone floor of its grotto. The geometric light sank into its fur. The void-black pelt began to shimmer with a faint, gold tracery. The burning green eyes softened. The lethal tension drained from its body.
It let out a sound. Not a growl. A deep, rumbling… purr.
The giant cat padded forward, nuzzled its head against Bai Yi's leg—nearly knocking him over—and then flopped onto its side, exposing its belly, purring like a monstrous kettle.
Bai Yi stared down. His heart was still trying to beat its way out of his chest. The fear was gone, replaced by a numb, hollow disbelief.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no. You're supposed to be terrifying. You're supposed to end me."
The panther blinked up at him, its eyes now the gentle green of sun-dappled leaves.
A thunder of footsteps came from behind. The Head Beastkeeper skidded to a halt, his face a mask of utter shock. He looked at the docile panther. He looked at Bai Yi standing unharmed. He saw the last fading motes of golden geometry in the air.
The man fell to his knees, pressing his forehead to the stone path.
"Forgive my doubt, Great Sage!" he cried, his voice thick with emotion. "To tame the untamable Shadow-Stalker with a thought… without a single spell or command… I have served here for fifty years and have never witnessed such a communion! You are a Beast-Taming Sage! A true friend to all primal hearts!"
Bai Yi closed his eyes. The purring vibrated up through his feet.
By noon, the story was everywhere. The minister had gone to meditate with the most violent beast in the empire and had tamed it with a silent poem. He hadn't conquered it; he had understood it. He had seen its fearful symmetry and made it peaceful.
[Physical Status: Optimal. Minor adrenaline depletion.]
[External Event: 'Beast-Taming Sage' reputation acquired. Influence expanded to Imperial Menagerie and Hunter's Lodge.]
[Note: Passive ability triggered via internal recitation. 'Conceptual Pacification' effect logged.]
That evening, as Xiao Lan joyfully reported the latest awe-struck rumors, Bai Yi sat by his window. He watched a ordinary sparrow peck at the courtyard stones.
Three domains. Plants, energy, and now beasts. He was painting himself into the very fabric of this wretched, violent world with brushstrokes of accidental peace.
He wasn't dying. He was becoming a part of the ecosystem.
The fear he felt now was colder and deeper than any panther's gaze. It was the fear of never being allowed to leave.