As Lu Zhi and the scholars made their exit, the room gradually emptied, leaving behind an air of secrecy and lingering tension. The heavy wooden doors of the private meeting chamber closed behind them, muffling the sounds of the trading house beyond. Zhao Ming remained standing near the table, his eyes fixed on the disassembled crossbow parts laid out before him. The meeting had given him answers, yet it had also raised far more troubling questions.

  Shopkeeper Wu let out a slow breath, watching as the scholars disappeared from view. "That old man still carries the weight of the empire on his back," he muttered. "Lu Zhi has always been a man of principle. If even he insists on such secrecy, then this matter must be truly dangerous."

  Zhao Ming crossed his arms, his fingers tapping against his sleeve. "That’s what bothers me. If this weapon is meant for the Han army, why hide it from the nobles and officials?" He glanced at the closed doors before lowering his voice. "Who are they afraid of?"

  Shopkeeper Wu stroked his beard thoughtfully. "If it were a simple military matter, the officials in Luoyang should already know about it. But if it’s being kept from them, then…" His expression darkened. "It means there’s conflict within the court itself."

  Zhao Ming nodded. "Exactly. Either someone in the capital wants to control this weapon for themselves, or certain factions don’t want it to exist at all." He stepped closer to the table, resting his hands on its surface. "Think about it—why would Governor Kong handle this in secret? If the emperor ordered this weapon’s restoration, wouldn’t it be better to openly produce it under the state’s protection?"

  Shopkeeper Wu sighed, pouring himself a cup of tea and offering one to Zhao Ming, who accepted it absentmindedly. "If Luoyang is divided, this could be more than just a dispute over weapons. It could mean the Han is weakening."

  Zhao Ming took a sip of tea, his gaze sharp. "There are only a few reasons why an empire would weaken from within—either the emperor is losing control, or powerful nobles and warlords are already maneuvering for power."

  Shopkeeper Wu set his cup down with a soft clink. "Luoyang has always been a nest of political vipers, but if what you say is true, then we may be on the verge of something far worse. A power struggle in the imperial court could send ripples throughout the entire land."

  Zhao Ming exhaled slowly. "Then we need more information. Does the Murong Trading House have a network in Luoyang?"

  Shopkeeper Wu shook his head. "Not directly. Our business is focused on trade, not politics. But we do have connections in surrounding cities—Chen, Xuchang, and even Runan. Traders and merchants always have an ear to the ground, even if they don’t realize it. A few well-placed inquiries could give us a clearer picture."

  Zhao Ming set his cup down, his mind already working through the possibilities. "Then do it. Discreetly. I don’t want anyone knowing we’re looking into the capital’s affairs, not yet. Just gather rumors—listen for mentions of noble factions, military shifts, or even sudden disappearances among officials."

  Shopkeeper Wu smirked. "Planning to become a spymaster now, Zhao Ming?"

  Zhao Ming chuckled. "Hardly. But information is power, and I’d rather not be blind to the changes happening around us. If the Han is truly in decline, then we need to be prepared."

  Shopkeeper Wu studied him for a moment before nodding. "Very well. I’ll have my men start making inquiries. But be careful, Zhao Ming. Once you start looking into the affairs of the imperial court, you may find that they start looking back at you."

  Zhao Ming’s expression remained unreadable. "Then let’s make sure we see them before they see us."

  After his conversation with Shopkeeper Wu, Zhao Ming made his way back to the workshop, where Uncle Qian and Wen Tao were still hunched over the disassembled crossbow. The dim candlelight flickered against the polished metal and aged wood of the weapon. The air smelled of sawdust, oil, and steel, a scent familiar to any craftsman’s workspace.

  The crossbow before them was unlike the standard military-issue ones Zhao Ming had seen before. It was smaller, lighter, and clearly designed for efficiency rather than brute force. However, the mechanism at its core was flawed—the alignment of the arrows in the magazine was off, the tension in the firing mechanism uneven, and the missing gear left a crucial gap in its function.

  Uncle Qian rubbed his rough hands together as he examined the parts. "This thing… It’s built differently from the bows and spears we usually make. The frame is well-crafted, but whoever tried to copy it missed some details."

  Wen Tao nodded, holding up a small gear in his calloused fingers. "And look at this—without the right placement, it won’t cycle the arrows properly. It should be able to shoot multiple arrows in succession, but right now, it jams after just one."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Zhao Ming stepped closer, picking up the crossbow carefully. He ran his fingers along the groove where the arrows would sit, then turned his attention to the trigger mechanism. His [Insight] ability had already given him a hint—the magazine’s alignment was incorrect, and a key component was missing.

  "This crossbow was originally designed to fire multiple arrows rapidly," Zhao Ming said, placing the weapon down gently. "But if the arrows aren’t positioned correctly, they’ll get stuck instead of smoothly loading into place. And without the missing gear, the reloading function won’t work."

  Uncle Qian frowned. "Then what should we do?"

  Zhao Ming pointed to the magazine. "First, adjust the alignment of the arrow slots. If they’re too wide, the arrows won’t sit securely. Too narrow, and they’ll jam." He then motioned toward the firing mechanism. "Second, reinforce the tension in the trigger. If it’s too weak, the arrows won’t launch with enough force. Too strong, and it will break after a few uses."

  Wen Tao’s eyes lit up. "That makes sense! We can adjust the grooves and test different placements."

  Uncle Qian nodded in agreement. "We’ll also need to forge a replacement gear. It must be precise, or the entire mechanism will be useless."

  Zhao Ming smiled. "Then divide the tasks. Uncle Qian, you focus on the gear—find the right balance in material and design. Wen Tao, work on adjusting the magazine and testing the firing sequence. Try multiple iterations, refine them step by step."

  The two craftsmen exchanged glances before nodding. "Understood," Uncle Qian said.

  "But be careful," Zhao Ming reminded them. "This is not just another weapon—it’s something that certain people would kill to control. We need to ensure our own safety while working on it."

  Uncle Qian folded his arms. "You think someone might come after us?"

  Zhao Ming’s gaze darkened. "It’s a possibility we can’t ignore. That’s why I want you both to move inside the Murong Trading House. It’s safer there, and fewer people will know what we’re working on."

  At first, both men hesitated. Wen Tao shook his head. "I appreciate the concern, but I don’t want to abandon my home."

  Uncle Qian sighed. "And I live alone with my son. Moving would be troublesome."

  Before Zhao Ming could reply, Shopkeeper Wu stepped inside, having overheard the conversation. "Listen to the boy," he said firmly. "This isn’t just about you. If word spreads about this weapon, your families could be in danger too. The Murong Trading House has the means to protect you."

  Uncle Qian exchanged a glance with Wen Tao before exhaling deeply. "Then… can I bring my son with me?"

  Wen Tao also looked hesitant but eventually spoke. "If I go, my wife must come too."

  Shopkeeper Wu nodded. "Of course. I’ll make the arrangements for where you’ll stay."

  Zhao Ming clasped his hands behind his back. "Good. Then let’s get to work. We don’t have much time."

  As Lu Zhi and his daughter, Lu Qianyi, stepped through the grand entrance of Governor Kong’s residence, the scent of incense mixed with the faint aroma of ink and old scrolls. The governor’s study was dimly lit, the glow of candlelight casting long shadows over the towering shelves filled with books and records of governance.

  Kong Rong, seated behind his ornate wooden desk, looked up as they entered. His sharp gaze landed on Lu Zhi, assessing him before speaking. "How did it go?"

  Lu Zhi bowed slightly before taking a seat. "Zhao Ming accepted the request. He agreed to help, but he insisted on working from the Murong Trading House instead of the academy for secrecy and security."

  Kong Rong stroked his beard thoughtfully. "A wise decision. The fewer people involved, the better. Zhao Ming may be young, but he understands caution. I was concerned he might refuse, given the risks."

  Lu Qianyi, who had been silent until now, folded her arms and frowned. "I still don’t understand. Why do you trust him so much? He’s not a court official, not a noble—just some scholar who happened to be in the right place."

  Lu Zhi let out a small chuckle. "And yet, that’s precisely why we trust him."

  Lu Qianyi raised an eyebrow. "Because he’s not one of them?"

  "Because he cares," Lu Zhi said, his voice calm but firm. "Compared to the court officials and nobles who scheme for power, Zhao Ming at least considers the people. He risked his life to defend those refugees, even when he had nothing to gain. Can you say the same about the men in the capital?"

  Kong Rong sighed and leaned back in his chair. "The imperial court is in a fragile state. The eunuchs tighten their grip over politics, corruption festers, and even the emperor is a puppet in his own palace. The noble houses are no better—half of them are fighting to control the court, while the other half scheme through the imperial harem."

  Lu Zhi nodded grimly. "That is why I must return to Luoyang. If the situation worsens, I will have to rethink my position. If chaos breaks out, I will pull back and plan my next move."

  Lu Qianyi clenched her fists. "Then let me go with you!"

  "No." Lu Zhi’s tone was final. "I want you to stay in Beihai and remain at the academy. This is not a debate."

  Lu Qianyi scowled. "Father—"

  "No, Qianyi," Lu Zhi interrupted. "Luoyang is not safe. If something happens, at least you will be here, away from the dangers of the capital."

  Kong Rong, watching the exchange, gave a small nod. "Your father is right. There are too many uncertainties in Luoyang right now. Staying here is the wiser choice."

  Lu Qianyi bit her lip but said nothing further.

  Lu Zhi exhaled, glancing at Kong Rong. "For now, I will leave Beihai in your hands. If I do not return, do what you must to keep this city safe."

  Kong Rong’s gaze hardened. "And what of the crossbow project?"

  "Zhao Ming and Murong Trading House will continue the work. If we succeed, we may finally have an edge over those who wish to destabilize the Han."

  Silence fell over the room for a moment before Kong Rong gave a solemn nod. "Then let us hope Zhao Ming is as capable as you believe."

  As the candlelight flickered against the walls, Lu Zhi rose to his feet. "I leave at first light. If the tides of Luoyang turn against us, be prepared."

  With those final words, he turned and strode toward the door, his long robes trailing behind him. Lu Qianyi watched him go, frustration and worry warring in her expression. Kong Rong remained seated, his fingers tapping thoughtfully on the wooden desk. The storm brewing in the imperial court was far beyond Beihai’s reach, but he knew it was only a matter of time before its ripples reached them all.