The sect master's words followed me as Shen Yue and I descended the cliffside:
"You must break the bridge before it breaks you."
The wind howled through the ravine like something injured.Or hungry.
We found shelter under a half-collapsed stone arch.Shen Yue built a small fire, her hands steady despite the mountain's tremors.
She watched me for a long moment.
"What did he give you?" she asked quietly.
"Not a weapon," I said. "A choice."
She waited.
I continued:"A technique to push the bridge down. To bury it. Not destroy it — I can't. But… silence it. For a time."
"Show me."
I closed my eyes.Focused.
Empty thought, not denial.Empty breath, not resistance.Open the ribs, not the mind.Let the bridge speak into a void where nothing answers.
For a heartbeat, my chest felt hollow.
The bridge flickered—
And went still.
Shen Yue exhaled, shoulders sagging. "You can do it."
"For now."
"And the cost?"
I opened my eyes.
"My memories," I said. "Each time I push it down, I lose something small. A scent. A face. A name."
She stared. "Whose name?"
"I don't know."
That scared her more than anything.
We walked west at dawn, the sun pale as bone.
Far to the east, at Hei Fort, the marsh stank of dead armies and broken banners.
Southern regiments approached—slow, organized, disciplined.But they did not carry the Southern King's dragon.
They carried a white lily on black silk.
A Liang imperial emblem.
The real one.
Southern officers knelt as the carriage approached the river.Inside sat the Emperor of Liang, serene as winter light.
The Southern King himself bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty. The North is fractured. The He Lian line is a false bloom. We await your command."
The Emperor smiled faintly.
"Rise," he said. "A king should not kneel to me. Not yet."
The Southern King obeyed without hesitation.He was not an ally.
He was a subordinate.
"Inform your generals," the Emperor murmured. "We march north. Not to conquer. But to reclaim."
"And the Lord Protector?" the Southern King asked carefully.
The Emperor's smile deepened.
"He will finish building what I need before he realizes who it's for."
A cold wind swept across the marsh.
Not one soldier spoke.
Ling An's walls shook from the third tower pulse.
Banners rippled without wind.Carvings sweated moisture.Ministers flinched at shadows that seemed too aware.
But the worst tremor came from within the palace.
A private summons.
Wu Jin stood outside the hidden chamber he had only entered once — as a child.
His breath fogged.
The door opened.
The Lord Protector waited inside alone.
He did not look tired.He did not look old.He did not look human.
"Sit," he said.
Wu Jin obeyed.
His father studied him with clinical calm.
"You are frightened," the Lord Protector murmured.
"Yes," Wu Jin said. "I would be a fool not to be."
"You are not a fool," the Lord Protector said. "You simply lack… perspective."
Silence pressed between them like iron.
"Zhou prepares to invade," the Lord Protector said. "The South is no longer a threat. The Emperor—"
He paused.
A strange, slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"He is alive."
Wu Jin stiffened. "You knew."
"I expected it. He was always too cautious to die honestly."
"He is marching north," Wu Jin whispered. "With the South behind him."
The Lord Protector nodded.
"Good."
"Good?" Wu Jin repeated, horrified.
"Yes. Let them gather. Let them believe they hold the leash. When the tower rings, they will kneel as surely as you do now."
Wu Jin swallowed.
"I don't kneel."
The Lord Protector leaned in.
"You already have."
Wu Jin's blood iced over.
A memory flashed—A hand gripping his shoulder at the coronation.A whisper he had forgotten.
"You are my voice in the light."
The Lord Protector's voice now was calm, measured, terrifying in its certainty.
"You will obey me," he said. "Not because you fear me. But because the world will end without my hand guiding its collapse."
Wu Jin felt his breath shorten.
"You're not saving Liang," he whispered. "You're remaking it."
"I am refining it," the Lord Protector said. "Removing everything that wastes Mandate. When the world breaks, someone must be ready to claim the pieces."
"And An?" Wu Jin whispered. "What is he to you?"
The Lord Protector's eyes softened.
Not in kindness.
In satisfaction.
"He is the blade."
"And me?"
"You," the Lord Protector said, "are the sheath."
Wu Jin's knees buckled.
He didn't fall — but he came close.
When he left the chamber, his face was pale.His ministers saw it.
For the first time, they whispered:
The King is afraid.
But none suspected of whom.
Only Wu Shuang, watching him from the shadows, understood.
She stepped beside him. "You spoke with him."
Wu Jin's voice trembled. "He expects obedience."
"And will you obey?" she asked softly.
Wu Jin did not reply.
But Wu Shuang saw the answer.
He would obey.
Because the alternative was death.
In the western cliffs, the sect master watched Shen Yue and me approach the next ridge.
"Your father believes he commands fate," he said. "He believes he commands Heaven. He believes he commands you."
I didn't answer.
He continued.
"But Heaven is not unaware. And fate is not blind."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"It means," he said quietly, "someone else moves the pieces now."
He pointed east.
A thin black banner had appeared on the horizon.
A Southern banner.
Carrying a white lily.
"The Emperor marches north," the master said. "Not to destroy the Lord Protector. But to steal from him."
Shen Yue stiffened. "Steal what?"
"The Mandate," the master said.
"And what do we do?" I asked.
"You go west," he said. "To learn how to unmake the bridge."
"And after that?"
He looked at me with deep, grim pity.
"After that," he said, "you choose which tyrant dies first."
Night fell.
The tower pulsed again.
A fourth time.
A beam of black-and-white light split the sky — visible from south to north, from east to west.
I felt it in my bones.
In my teeth.
In the bridge.
It shivered.
Then whispered:
He is almost ready.
I whispered back:
"So am I."
Shen Yue stood beside me.
"We keep moving," she said.
"Yes," I said. "Before the world decides for us."
And we stepped into the shadows of the western mountains—
toward the city that forgot itself.toward the scholars who knew what Heaven denied.toward the truth that might kill me.