"The scrolls revealed more than philosophy, history and predictions, but the ability to record “real time” of what happened in the world outside the tomb. Over three nights, Confucius and the Guru translated them, uncovering Lord Vex Ji’s most closely guarded secret of a network of “blood ledgers” detailing the deaths of anyone who’d opposed him—peasants, scholars, even his own kin. Taren, Confucius’ father was amongst them”.
Confucius slammed a fist into the table, his knuckles bleeding. “I need to see these ledgers. Proof. Something the peasants can’t ignore.”
The Guru shook his head. “They’re in Lord Vex Ji’s fortress—his private vault No.2. Guarded by machine-ninjas and a blood accountant: a cyborg who tracks every death, every secret.”
“Then I’ll become an accountant,” Confucius said, a plan forming. “Lord Vex Ji’s granary lost their scribe after the incident with Kael-7. They’re hiring replacements. I can forge credentials. Get close to the vault.”
The Guru’s eyes narrowed. “The blood accountant—his name is Darius. He was once a scholar, before Lord Vex Ji tore out his tongue and replaced his heart with a machine. He doesn’t speak, but he sees everything. One mistake, and he’ll alert the guards.”
Confucius nodded, folding a forged scribe’s license into his robe. “I’ll be careful.”
The fortress loomed on a plateau, its walls of black steel topped with guard towers, each flying a flag emblazoned with the Vex crest. Confucius entered through the servant’s gate, his “credentials” (forged by Gareth using the palace data chip) accepted without question.
The accounting wing was a maze of cubicles, each with a holographic terminal. Darius sat at the center, a Chinese man with black hair despite his age (perhaps because of the machine heart) and a face like stone, his arms are replaced by a metal appendage that tapped rhythmically on his desk.
Confucius was assigned to the “death records” cubicle, a position that gave him access to the vault’s outer logs. For three days, he input data: “Peasant Uprising, Iron District: 37 dead. Scholar Rebellion, Dust Flats: 12 executed.” Each entry made his blood boil.
On the fourth night, he snuck into the vault’s antechamber, using a code stolen from Darius’ desk while the accountant napped. The vault door—10 feet tall, made of reinforced steel—hummed to life, revealing rows of shelves lined with leather-bound ledgers, their covers stained brown (blood, Confucius realized).
He found the “T” section quickly, pulling Taren’s file. Inside was more than a death notice: a hologram of Taren, bloodied but smiling, standing in front of a stack of Nine Li Scripts. “Tell my son,” he said, his voice breaking, “the scripts are the key. Not to power. To freedom.”
A sound behind him made him spin. Darius stood in the doorway, his metal arm raised, a blaster in his hand. But he didn’t fire. Instead, he pointed to Taren’s hologram, then to Confucius’ pendant—the shard of iridescent crystal that had belonged to his father.
Confucius’ breath caught. “You knew him.”
Darius nodded, his eyes filling with tears. He reached into his cyborg hip, pulling out a small data chip, and handed it to Confucius. It was etched with a single character: “Truth.”
Confucius inserted it into his terminal. The screen lit up with a list of Lord Vex Ji’s guards—those secretly loyal to the peasants, those willing to rebel if given proof.
“Thank you,” Confucius whispered.
Darius tapped his metal arm against the desk, a rhythm that sounded like a heartbeat. Then he turned, walking back to his cubicle—silent, but complicit.
Confucius copied Taren’s file and the guard list to a chip, then slipped it into his robe. As he headed for the exit, a guard stepped into his path—Kael-7, the granary overseer, his cybernetic eye zooming in on Confucius’ face.
“Wait a minute,” Kael-7 said, grinning. “You’re the orphan from the granary. The one who stole the data chip.”
Confucius reached for the quantum bow hidden beneath his robe, but Kael-7 drew his blaster first. “Lord Vex Ji will pay a fortune for you. Betrayer of the regime.”
A shot rang out. Kael-7 fell, a hole in his chest. Darius stood behind him, his blaster still smoking. He nodded at Confucius, then dragged Kael-7’s body into a storage closet, erasing the security footage with a swipe of his metal arm.
Confucius ran, the data chip burning in his hand. Outside, the sun was setting, painting the sky pink. He didn’t stop until he reached the Water District, where Gareth and Mara waited.
He held up Taren’s file, his voice breaking. “Lord Vex Ji killed my father. He’s been killing all of us. But now we have proof. And allies.”
Gareth’s cybernetic eye whirred. “Then let’s rally them. Tonight.”