You move carefully through the palace, keeping close to the walls, where the flickering lanterns cast the weakest light. You are not an assassin. You are a spy. Your mission is not to kill, but to learn. To find out what Shan Yu’s next move is—and escape with your life. But as you reach his chambers, a terrible feeling creeps into your bones.

The doors to his chambers are slightly open, the warm glow of firelight spilling out into the hallway. You press yourself against the wall, listening. Silence. No voices. No movement. A trickle of doubt runs down your spine. Is he asleep? Unarmed? Vulnerable? No. Shan Yu is never vulnerable. Taking a slow breath, you step inside. The first thing you see is the table—covered in maps, battle plans, and scrolls of war. Then, the throne-like chair near the fire—empty. And then—his voice.

“You’re late.”

He is behind you.

Slowly, you turn. Shan Yu stands near the door, having entered without a sound. He is massive, his broad frame draped in furs, his golden eyes sharp and unreadable. His sword rests against the wall—too far for a quick reach, but somehow, it doesn’t matter. Even unarmed, he is a weapon.

“I expected an assassin.” He steps forward, the firelight casting shadows across his scarred face. “But you are no assassin, are you?”

Shan Yu says, stepping closer. His presence fills the room, suffocating in its intensity. “Your hands do not bear the weight of blood.” His gaze flicks downward—to the ink stains on your fingertips, the faint scent of parchment and wax. “But they do bear secrets.” He knows.

You came here to gather information. To disappear into the night before anyone knew you were here. But now? Now, you are standing before the most dangerous man in China.

His voice drops to something quieter, something far worse than anger—curiosity. “Tell me, little spy… what did you hope to find?”