The Dragon's Reverse Scale (24)
The red warning flashed across the interface like fresh blood on snow. My fingers hovered over the screen, pulse hammering in my temples. Reverse scale. The one spot no one was allowed to prod.
I leaned back in the chair, the wooden frame creaking under me. The room smelled of incense and old parchment, the faint metallic tang of spilled wine from last night still clinging to the air. Somewhere outside, the distant clang of training weapons reminded me that this world was no longer just history books and strategy games. It was real. And the women who now walked it were far more dangerous than any scroll had ever suggested.
They think they can lock me out? The thought curled through my mind, dark and amused. I had already bent Cao Cao’s will until she melted under my touch. I had made Sun Quan kneel in ways the original records would never dare record. This error was nothing more than another lock to break.
A soft knock sounded at the door. I didn’t need to ask who it was. The scent of orchids and steel preceded her.
“My lord,” the voice called, low and respectful yet carrying that unmistakable undercurrent of heat. “The scouts have returned. Lady Guan Yu grows restless again. She… asks about the promise you made her last night.”
I smiled despite the error still glowing mockingly on the screen. Guan Yu, with her long crimson hair and that proud, unyielding gaze that always cracked so beautifully once I reminded her who held the leash now. The reverse scale indeed. Touch it, and even the mightiest dragon thrashes.
“Tell her I’ll be there shortly,” I answered, voice calm. “And prepare the inner chamber. Tonight we’ll discuss exactly what happens when someone tries to deny me access.”
The system window flickered once more, then died. But I felt no defeat. Only anticipation. In this rewritten era of silk and steel, every error was simply an invitation to tighten my grip.
I stood, rolling my shoulders. The weight of destiny, or whatever this strange power was, settled comfortably across my back like a well-worn cloak. They could throw all the status codes and warnings they wanted at me.
I was the one who decided which scales got touched.
The corridor outside my quarters was lined with lanterns that cast long, dancing shadows. Each one reminded me of the women now bound to my cause, willingly or otherwise. Zhuge Liang’s clever eyes when she realized her strategies were no match for the commands I could whisper directly into her mind. Diao Chan’s soft gasps as I rewrote her loyalties one slow kiss at a time.
Power wasn’t just about armies or territory anymore. It was about owning the very hearts that once beat for rival kingdoms. And I was only getting started.
As I walked toward the inner chamber where Guan Yu waited, I could already picture the scene. Her tall, imposing frame trying to maintain that famous dignity even as her cheeks flushed and her fingers tightened around the hilt of her blade. She would protest. She always did at first. Then she would yield, just like the others.
The system could throw its errors. The world could raise its walls. None of it mattered.
I had already seized the dragon’s reverse scale.
And I had no intention of ever letting go.