The low-key prince summons trainees from the Imperial Household Department at the start of the game.

That night, Zhao Gao returned to his residence. He no longer lived in the shared dormitory; after being transferred to the chief steward's study, he moved to a single room in the backyard of the Imperial Household Department.

He closed the door, lit the oil lamp, and sat under it for a long time.

His lips curled up slightly, a very restrained smile that was almost imperceptible.

Adopted son.

Gongfa.

successor.

Three months ago, he was still emptying chamber pots in a dormitory; three months later, he is the adopted son of the head steward of the Imperial Household Department and is about to begin formal martial arts training.

His path to promotion was faster than he had anticipated.

He opened his palm and looked down at his palm.

In the dim light of the oil lamp, he could almost see a faint stream of energy swirling around his fingertips. It was a sign of entering the Pure Yang Qi Technique, evidence that Chen Ju had said his martial arts talent, which was "one in ten thousand," was beginning to awaken in this young body.

In his previous life, Zhao Gao overthrew the Qin Dynasty through political maneuvering, relying on his intelligence and cunning.

In this life, he will excel in both literature and martial arts.

Meanwhile, during the three months that Zhao Gao climbed the ranks step by step in the study of the Imperial Household Department, the trajectories of the other three also quietly unfolded in their respective dimensions.

Wei Zhongxian thrived in the dormitory.

He was a natural at interpersonal relationships, and in three months, he had turned the twenty or so people in the entire servants' quarters into a solid unit.

He knows who has conflicts with whom, he knows what special skills everyone has, and he has a clear understanding of what everyone can and cannot do.

Manager Liu relied on him more and more, and whenever he was away, he would let him take over the affairs of the servants' quarters.

More importantly, in the process of managing the servants' quarters, Wei Zhongxian independently developed an extremely efficient personnel scheduling system.

He had a thorough understanding of everyone's strengths and weaknesses, and when assigning tasks, he always made the best use of everyone's talents. Those with strong hands and feet would chop wood and carry water, those with quick hands and feet would run errands and deliver messages, those with calm temperaments would go to the storeroom to take inventory, and those with eloquent tongues would deliver things to the various palaces.

After the system had been running for two months, the efficiency of the servants' quarters had improved significantly. Even Chen Ju noticed it and once asked Steward Liu, "Your servants' quarters have been much more efficient lately. What's going on?"

Manager Liu then pushed Wei Zhongxian forward, saying that the young man was skilled at management.

Chen Ju glanced at Wei Zhongxian again and memorized the name.

Wei Zhongxian knew in his heart that the path he was taking was different from that of Zhao Gao.

Zhao Gao relied on his solid literary skills and martial arts talent to climb the ranks step by step.

He didn't have Zhao Gao's excellent calligraphy, nor did he possess Zhao Gao's "one in a million" martial arts talent, but there was one thing that Zhao Gao couldn't match: he understood human nature too well.

He can make anyone feel comfortable around him, make any manager feel that using him is easy, and make any subordinate feel that working for him is worthwhile.

This skill is also a kind of talent.

Wei Zhongxian knew perfectly well that the power struggle in the palace was essentially a larger version of the martial arts world, only it wore silk instead of tattered clothes, drank imperial wine instead of cheap liquor, and relied on intellect instead of fists.

The skills he learned in his previous life, from navigating the streets to adapting to different people, forming cliques, and binding interests, still work just as well, if not better, in this magnificent palace.

Gao Lishi is still in the kitchen, but he is no longer the handyman who picked vegetables and tended the fire three months ago.

He is now Chef Sun's assistant, responsible for managing the kitchen's food supplies and daily menu records.

The change of position happened naturally. Chef Sun was illiterate, and the kitchen handled hundreds of kilograms of ingredients and dozens of dishes every day. He simply couldn't remember them all by memory.

Gao Lishi was literate, meticulous in his work, and never sought credit or recognition. Chef Sun found him extremely useful and eventually entrusted him with all the tasks related to the preparation and management of ingredients.

After Gao Lishi quietly took over the kitchen's food inventory records, the amount of information he had was astonishing, including which palace's empress had recently had a poor appetite and reduced her food rations.

Which palace has been frequently adding dishes lately, possibly to entertain whom? Which imperial relative has recently sent rare ingredients to the palace through procurement channels? Which supplier has overstated their price and taken kickbacks?

These pieces of information may seem like trivial matters, but to a discerning eye, each one can reveal subtle shifts in the power structure of the imperial harem.

Gao Lishi memorized all this information, but never told anyone.

That's just his personality—he doesn't compete or fight, he doesn't show off, but he never misses a thing he needs to know.

What about Zheng He?

Zheng He was still chopping wood.

For three whole months, he chopped firewood that filled the woodshed and then the storage shed next to it. In the end, he had to build a woodpile in the yard.

To outsiders, he was just a big, clumsy man who only knew how to chop wood, but only Zheng He himself knew that he wasn't chopping wood, but rather the foundation.

In his previous life, Zheng He was the commander who led a fleet of 27,000 men on seven voyages to the Western Ocean. His vision and perspective were completely different from the other three.

Zhao Gao saw the power structure of the Imperial Household Department, Wei Zhongxian saw the network of interests in interpersonal relationships, Gao Lishi saw the hidden channels of information flow, while Zheng He saw something more fundamental and underlying.

body.

In his previous life, he led a fleet out to sea, and each trip lasted two or three years. The sea was unpredictable, and a commander whose body couldn't withstand the storm would have been fed fish long ago.

He knew all too well that no matter how deep your strategies, how grand your vision, or how heavy your power, without a body strong enough to withstand any burden, it was all just empty talk.

So for the past three months, he chopped wood, which was his way of training his body.

With each swing of his axe, he adjusted his breathing and circulated his qi and blood according to the techniques implanted in the system.

The technique he implanted was called "Iron Bone Technique," a very basic, third-rate body-refining technique, extremely rudimentary, but Zheng He didn't care.

Third-rate techniques have the methods of first-rate techniques. Others chop wood to complete a task, but he chops wood to integrate every stance and every power exertion movement of Iron Bone Kung Fu into the mechanical repetition of chopping wood.

After three months of practice, his Iron Bone Skill had progressed from beginner to advanced level, and his muscles and bones were more than twice as strong as before.

Although his cultivation level is still marked as unranked, his actual physical strength and power are no less than those of a first-rank martial artist.

Moreover, being good at chopping wood was a kind of reputation in the palace.

Chef Sun from the kitchen praised him, the warehouse manager praised him, and even Manager Liu said during a roll call, "That kid surnamed Zheng is a very capable worker."

These compliments may seem insignificant, but in the Ministry of the Interior's personnel evaluation system, a reputation for "doing solid work" is the basis for promotion.

Zheng He chopped his firewood calmly, just as he had been patiently waiting for his monsoon in his previous life.

Three months passed silently in their respective processes.

The four hidden pieces have already established themselves on their respective chessboards.

What was Zhou Xing doing during those three months?

Zhou Xing is growing taller.

The six-and-a-half-year-old boy had grown half an inch taller, and his pants were too short, so Chunlan sewed new cuffs for him.

His daily life remained regular: he would pay his respects to the Empress, return to the side hall to read and write, and go to the Imperial Garden to catch insects.

Occasionally, when he encounters other princes and princesses on the palace road, he would timidly lower his head to make way, and then, in a corner where no one could see him, he would raise his overly calm eyes and watch their departing figures.

No one paid attention to him, and no one was on guard against him.

His net, centered on this side hall, silently extends in all directions.

In the western part of the city, Lu Changfeng's Beggars' Gang had already scattered his nineteen beggars to various main streets and alleys of the capital.

As Zhou Xing requested, they did not cluster together in the same area, but scattered like beans: two in Deshengfang, three in the East Market, four at the South City Wharf, five near the ruined temple in the West City, and one each in the Mule and Horse Market and the Cart Shop in the North City.

Everyone develops their own network of informants in their own territory, using a variety of methods.

Someone squatted at the entrance of the teahouse to watch the horses for the customers, and overheard all the gossip the tea drinkers were having.

Some people carried bags at the dock, memorizing the arrival and departure times of cargo ships, what they were loaded with, and which merchants they were being transported to.

There were men who ran errands for the girls in the red-light districts, buying them cosmetics. They knew exactly which master went to which brothel on which night.

This information was collected every night at the dilapidated temple in the west city. Lu Changfeng personally reviewed it, and recorded what he found valuable. Once a batch was collected, it was sent into the palace through the Wang Mazi pancake shop in Deshengfang.

The method of delivery was ingenious. Wang Mazi himself was also one of the external informants. Every five days, he would push a sesame cake cart to the palace gate to deliver sesame cakes to the guards.

Inside the sesame seed cake was a thin strip of paper, as thin as a cicada's wing, covered with densely written coded text that only Zhou Xing could understand.

This set of ciphers was devised by Zhou Xing in a side hall over half a month. It combined the programming logic from his previous life with the characteristics of the writing system in this world. Even if it were intercepted, no one would be able to decipher it.

So even though Zhou Xing never left the side hall, he knew what had happened in the capital recently: the concubine of the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Personnel had eloped with someone; the Minister of Rites had hosted a banquet for several out-of-town merchants at the Zuixianlou Restaurant; and three cargo ships from Jiangnan, carrying only silk, were docked at the North City Wharf.

These things may seem unrelated to him, but on the chessboard of Zhou Xing, each piece of information is a coordinate point. As they accumulate, they can be connected into a line.

Gao Lishi was responsible for relaying messages from the palace.

His method was more discreet; the kitchen had to deliver meals to each palace every day, including the Ninth Prince's meals.

Gao Lishi would slip a small note into the hidden compartment of the food box he delivered to the Ninth Prince, on which he would write down the recent activities of the harem in tiny print.

After Zhou Xing finished reading the notes, he immediately burned them and poured the ashes into the flowerpot. Chunlan thought the prince was playing with the soil.

And so, the two intelligence lines, one inside and one outside the palace walls, had been operating silently for three months without anyone noticing.

Three months is neither a long nor a short time.

For the Ninth Prince's side hall, it was nothing more than Chunlan sewing the trouser hems a few more times and Qiuju sweeping up fallen leaves a few more times.

But for the dark web that is being quietly woven, three months is enough for the first layer of the web to begin to take shape.

And all of this is just the beginning.