Lin Feng did not laugh. In the Spire of Liang, a man who survived the fuel vats with a stone-dead arm and a blade forged from bog iron was no joke; he was a design flaw that needed to be violently excised from the schematic.
"The registry belongs to the Imperial Coal-Regent, Wei," Lin Feng said, his fingers tightening on the hilt of his slender rapier. "We just keep the books."
With a sudden, sharp twist of his heel, Lin Feng engaged the valve on his hip. The compact steam-pack on his lower back let out a high-pitched, musical chime—the sound of a Triple-Calibrated Dan-Engine running at perfect efficiency. The silver-threaded tube connecting the pack to his weapon flared with a brilliant, golden luminescence, and the rapier's blade began to vibrate so fast it became a transparent blur.
"The Lin Clan's Flash-Stroke," Lin Wei thought, his memory-meld providing the technical specification. "High frequency, low drag. Designed to pierce leather aprons and boiler plates alike."
Lin Feng blurred forward. He didn't lunge with the heavy, primitive weight of the sub-level Enforcers. He glided across the polished limestone tiles, his rapier executing three lightning-fast thrusts aimed precisely at Lin Wei's soft human throat, his left eye, and the unmoving joint of his slate-gray shoulder.
[Sovereign Engine: Tracking Mechanical Frequency...]
[Target Velocity: 42 meters per second.]
[Recommended Counter: 'The Warden's Clamp' — Cost: 2,500 Points.]
"No," Lin Wei's mind pulsed against the bronze interface. "Manual calculation. The metal is too thin."
Lin Wei didn't raise his charcoal-violet blade to parry. Instead, he took a half-step forward, intentionally offering his petrified right shoulder to the path of the vibrating needle-blade.
CLINK.
The rapier's tip struck the matte-black, slate-crystal clavicle. The high-frequency vibration that was supposed to liquefy Lin Wei's bone marrow hit the absolute, non-porous density of the Sovereign Sentinel DNA and stopped dead. The golden light inside the silver tube flared violently, backing up into the steam-pack with a wet, angry sputter.
"What—" Lin Feng's silver goggles widened behind their lenses. "Your shoulder... It's not slagged iron. It's dead stone!"
"It's not dead," Lin Wei said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated through the floorboards. "It's just settled."
Before Lin Feng could depress the exhaust lever to disengage the weapon, Lin Wei's human left hand snapped forward. His dark, forge-calloused fingers closed directly around the transparent, vibrating steel of the rapier blade.
The high-frequency edge tore into his palm, but the blood that spilled wasn't red; it was a thick, dark, violet-tinted fluid that immediately turned into a heavy rime of frost upon contact with the air. The Sovereign Engine inside his chest gave a massive, internal thud, sending a reverse-pressure wave of absolute cold straight up the blade.
[Points Expended: 1,500 (Thermal Extraction).]
[Current Balance: 958,500.]
The golden light inside the silver-threaded tube turned a dull, bruised violet. The high-frequency hum died instantly as the internal pistons of Lin Feng's steam-pack were seized by a flash-freeze that cracked the outer brass casing.
"My engine!" Lin Feng choked out, his hands slipping from the hilt as the frost raced up his sleeves, turning the dark silk of his robes into a stiff, brittle sheet of ice.
Lin Wei didn't strike him with the blade. He simply stepped inside his cousin's guard, his slate-gray right elbow—heavy with the weight of the mountain he had left behind—driving directly into Lin Feng's chest plate.
The three gold bars painted across the administrator's heart shattered into a spray of yellow flakes. The High-Pressure Diesel Core inside Lin Feng's chest didn't explode; it let out a long, wheezing sigh as its internal vacuum was ruptured, dropping the 3-Star Steam-Master to his knees, his face turning a gray, oxygen-starved shade of ash.
"The... the registry..." Lin Feng whispered, his fingers clawing at the limestone tiles as Lin Wei walked past him toward the heavy mahogany doors. "Hao... Hao already sold the names... you're too late..."
Lin Wei stood before the ancestral doors. He didn't use his left hand to open them. He lifted his charcoal-violet blade, the heavy, unpolished iron tip resting against the center seam where the clan's steam-sword emblem was carved.
"Xiao Mei," Lin Wei called out without looking back.
The girl ran forward from the lift cage, her handmade iron poker held tight, her eyes wide as she looked at the fallen 3-Star Master on the floor. "I'm here, Third Young Master."
"Get the charcoal pens," Lin Wei commanded, his single violet eye igniting with a dull, volcanic glare that turned the mahogany wood under his blade into dry kindling. "We're going to cross out some accounts."
With a single, forward shove of his stone shoulder, the heavy doors didn't swing open—they were blown off their hinges, crashing into the grand administrative hall of the Middle Tier.