The success of the "information seeds" was a fragile victory. Li Fan watched the nascent node of awakened thought within his Prayer collective, a single, faintly glowing ember in the vast, golden sea of faith. It was precious, but it made his entire kingdom a target under the system's intensified, if confused, scrutiny. A direct confrontation was inevitable. He needed to create a larger, more dangerous distraction—a fire so blinding it would draw every monitoring eye away from his smoldering spark.
His plan was audacious, a gambit that walked the razor's edge between brilliance and catastrophe. He would manipulate the very energy the system was so keen on harvesting, and in doing so, forge a weapon from his enemy's own substance.
Focusing his will, Li Fan isolated a thin stream of faith energy destined for the system's "void conduits." Instead of letting it flow cleanly, he began to subtly warp it. He didn't steal it—that would be an immediate flag. Instead, he imprinted upon it. Using his profound understanding of the "Abyss of the Fallen Gods" gained from his prior probes, he carefully sculpted the energy's resonant frequency, its metaphysical signature, making it a perfect, if miniature, mirror of the ancient malice stirring in that forbidden trench.
It was like adding a few drops of potent poison into a vast river; the quantity was negligible, but the distinctive taint would be unmistakable at its destination.
He released the tailored stream.
For a long moment, nothing. Then, a reaction—swift and violent.
The "void conduit" that had accepted the tainted faith shuddered. A wave of pure, systemic revulsion traveled back along the pathway, a nullifying force that attempted to scour and quarantine the corrupted energy. Alarms, silent to mortal ears but screaming across the divine stratum, would be triggering in the Order Division's core. The reading was clear: Abyssal contamination, breaching a primary faith conduit within a Divine King's territory.
Li Fan allowed himself a cold, grim smile. The hook was set.
The spatial ripples in his throne room did not merely form this time; they tore. Xuan Zhang emerged, his usual impassive demeanor replaced by a palpable, razor-sharp urgency. The data-stream in his eyes was a blinding torrent.
"Your Majesty!" The title was a sharp report. "A Category-3 metaphysical hazard has been detected. Your primary faith conduit has been compromised by Abyssal resonance. The system's integrity is under direct assault. Explain this breach immediately."
The charge was no longer about minor fluctuations or cognitive entropy. This was a direct threat to the system's core functionality.
Li Fan rose, projecting an aura of controlled alarm and royal indignation. "A breach? On my conduit?" He gestured angrily towards the void, in the direction of the Abyss. "I have been reporting the stirrings in that chasm for cycles! While your Order Division 'assessed the threat,' it seems the threat has assessed us! This is not a breach from within my kingdom, Patrol Envoy. This is an incursion!"
He masterfully reframed his own sabotage as an external attack, leveraging the very real fear of the Abyss he had previously cultivated.
Xuan Zhang's analytical gaze swept the hall, the data-stream pausing for a microsecond on Li Fan. The logic was torturous but compelling. The Abyss was active. A pre-emptive, parasitic attack on a faith stream was a documented, though rare, tactic of ancient, intelligent horrors. The evidence, which Li Fan had so carefully fabricated, pointed outward.
"The signature is consistent with an Abyssal probing attack," Xuan Zhang admitted, the words seeming forced from him by the weight of empirical data. "The conduit has been purged and isolated. But the event confirms the Abyssal threat level has been critically misjudged."
This was the moment Li Fan had waited for. The system's attention was now decisively pivoting.
"Then misjudge it no longer," Li Fan commanded, his voice dripping with imperial authority. "Your resources, Patrol Envoy, are now best deployed at the source of this chaos, not in the petty audits of a god defending his realm."
A profound shift occurred in Xuan Zhang's stance. The focus on Li Fan's internal affairs vanished, replaced by a cold, operational focus on a clear and present enemy. "The Order Division will re-prioritize. The Abyss of the Fallen Gods is now designated a primary containment target. A full investigative legion will be dispatched."
With that, he vanished, his departure even swifter than his arrival. The immediate pressure in the throne room lifted. Li Fan had successfully redirected his most pressing threat.
But in the sudden quiet, a new sensation crept into the periphery of his divine senses. It was a faint, cold, and ancient attention, brushing against the outer defenses of his kingdom. It was not the systematic scan of the Order Division. It was something wild, hungry, and deeply intelligent.
His fabricated incursion had not only fooled the system. It had also served as a dinner bell.
From the lightless depths of the Abyss, something had noticed the tiny, perfect replica of its own essence. And now, intrigued by the mimic, it had turned its gaze upon the mimic's creator.
Li Fan stood alone, the architect of his own deliverance and his own potential doom. The two-front war had just escalated. The third front, silent and ancient, had now officially opened. The game had changed, and the stakes had become infinite.