"Not the Academy Master himself?!" Tony asked.

"No, young master. Academy Master Da Vinci appears to be uninvolved. It’s Rutherford who has the direct connection to the Imperial family. He processed the assignment personally and made sure it looked routine." Sunil met his eyes. "It was deliberate from the beginning."

Tony turned that over quietly. He had spent the last two days assuming the Academy Master was the axis the conspiracy rotated around. That assumption had been wrong, which meant his read of the situation needed adjusting.

"The academy factions," Tony said. "Give me the full picture."

Sunil nodded. "Two main groups. The first supports the current Academy Master, Da Vinci — Sword Peak falls here, and Da Vinci has the edge in pure strength, which keeps the balance tilted slightly in his favor. The second faction supports Vice Master Rutherford, who controls Rising Sun Peak and Falling Sun Peak. He’s been building toward replacing Da Vinci for years — patient, careful, using every connection he has." Sunil paused. "Peak Master Natasha of the Healing Tower is neutral. She declared openly that she has no interest in academy politics and answers to neither faction. Both sides have tried to bring her over. Both sides have failed."

"So she’s the wild card," Tony muttered, more to himself than to Sunil.

"Yes, young master. If she ever chose a side, the balance would collapse immediately."

Tony stared at the oil lamp on the courtyard wall, watching the flame move in the cold mountain air.

Mark Smith put me in the Healing Tower through Rutherford. Rutherford is Natasha’s technical superior — but Natasha doesn’t play politics. So Mark’s move lands me in Natasha’s space, which should be controllable, except Natasha is the one person in this academy who doesn’t owe either faction anything.

Interesting choice, Prince. Either you miscalculated her, or the plan doesn’t need her cooperation. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

He was still turning it over when the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps broke the courtyard silence — uneven, heavy, gasping.

A round figure came barreling through the courtyard gate with both hands on his knees, heaving for breath, face red from exertion, robes twisted sideways from running.

Fatty Lin had arrived.

"WHERE —" he wheezed, holding up one finger, "— have you — been running —" another wheeze "— do you know how many — stairs —"

"Catch your breath," Tony said.

Fatty Lin stood bent over for thirty seconds, making sounds that suggested his lungs were considering legal action. Sunil watched him with a carefully blank expression.

Finally Fatty straightened up, smoothed his robe with what remained of his dignity, and stepped forward with the bearing of someone delivering state secrets.

"Sorry for the delay, young master," he said, back to normal as if the wheezing had never happened. "I was gathering something specific. Something that couldn’t wait." He reached into his robe and produced a folded letter, slightly crumpled from being clutched during the run, and held it out with both hands. "Please read this."

Tony set down the apple core and took it.

He unfolded it and read.

His eyes moved across the page once. Then again. His expression stayed neutral but something behind it sharpened — the specific quality of attention that means the information in front of you is more important than you expected.

"The meeting between Mark Smith and the Healing Tower doctor," Tony said. "Kelly Don. Rank Five." He looked up at Fatty. "How did you get this?!"

"I have my methods, young master," Fatty said, with enormous satisfaction.

"The methods have a name?!"

"...I bribed one of the mountain fort servants," Fatty admitted. "Three times the going rate. Very cooperative after that."

"Good." Tony continued reading. "Kelly Don is going to position herself close to me from tomorrow. Steer me toward terminal patients. Make every death look deliberate." He folded the letter slowly. "Mark wants the academy to see me as a walking execution."

Sunil’s eyes widened. "Young master, that’s —"

"Clever," Tony said. "It’s actually a clever plan." He didn’t sound troubled by this. He sounded like someone acknowledging a well-executed chess move before deciding how to respond to it. "If I’m seen near dying patients and they all die, the story writes itself. Nobody investigates whether the patients were already dying — they just remember that Tony Clark was there."

"There’s more, young master," Fatty said, his expression going more serious. "Turn to the second page."

Tony turned it over.

"Oh," he said quietly. "Edward."

"The ninth prince hasn’t forgotten what you did to him at the Seventh Octopus House," Fatty said. "He has a vicious servant lady — very capable, very motivated. They’re planning something. From what I gathered, they’ll move soon — within the week, maybe sooner."

"Two fronts," Tony muttered. "Mark from inside the Healing Tower, Edward from outside." He almost smiled. "I’ve been here three days and I already have the Imperial family running two separate operations against me. I should feel honored."

He stood up, folded the letter, and looked at both of them.

Fatty Lin was watching him with eager eyes. Sunil stood straight, waiting.

Tony reached into his storage ring.

He produced an Earth Rank Sword — clean, well-balanced, the kind of weapon that cost more than most outer disciples saw in a year — and held it out to Fatty Lin.

Fatty Lin stared at it. His mouth opened. Closed. He reached out and took it with both hands, and for a moment the unshakeable cheerfulness cracked into something genuinely moved.

"Young master, this is —"

"You earned it," Tony said simply. "That letter was worth more than everything else brought tonight combined."

Fatty bowed his head three times in rapid succession, clutching the sword to his chest like someone who had been handed proof that the universe occasionally operated fairly.

Tony turned to Sunil and produced a Human Rank Movement Technique scroll.

Sunil took it, and Tony watched the brief flicker of calculation move across his face — comparing it to the sword, measuring the gap — before Sunil buried it under a respectful bow.

"Thank you, young master. Next time I will bring better information."

"I know you will," Tony said. He looked at both of them. "Starting tomorrow — eyes on both princes. Mark Smith and Edward Smith. Every meeting, every movement, every servant that comes and goes. If you need to bribe someone, do it. Don’t worry about the money." He paused. "And if you can get access to Clark family surveillance equipment — the advanced listening devices, the ones my father uses for compound security — use them. Bug their residences if you can manage it without getting caught."

Both of them looked at each other.

Sunil’s careful general posture flickered slightly. Fatty Lin broke into a wide grin.

"Young master," Fatty said, "this is considerably more exciting than practicing martial arts."

"Don’t get caught," Tony said.

"We won’t!!" they said simultaneously, with the confidence of people who had not yet fully thought through the consequences of getting caught.

Tony watched them go — Fatty Lin bouncing slightly as he walked, one hand still on the sword, Sunil already mentally organizing his next information run — and then sat back down on the steps alone.

The courtyard was quiet again. The oil lamp flame had settled. Somewhere on the mountain above, the snow leopard was tied to its pine tree, probably plotting something.

Tony stared at the folded letter in his hands.

Kelly Don moves tomorrow. Edward moves within the week. Mark Smith thinks he’s already three steps ahead.

He tucked the letter into his storage ring.

Let’s disappoint him. Hmmhh... "--"