The moon began to wane. Five days became four.
And the Mid-Autumn Summit loomed like a blade in the fog.
Yun stood before the old shrine once more, this time not in hiding. The willow trees swayed around him as he trained, each movement of his sword slicing clean through the chilled morning air. The Flame Sigil pulsed on his chest, hot and steady.
Behind him, Jian approached with haste, his expression tight.
"They know about Zhao Ming."
Yun didn't pause. "How?"
"There's a bounty on his name in the southern provinces. Someone paid to bury him again—but not with silence. With blood."
Yun lowered his blade slowly. "They're tying loose ends."
Jian nodded. "If he's alive, they want him dead. And if he's dead, they want the evidence torched."
"Then we find him first."
Lady Shen sat in her chamber, frowning over an old map of the estate's underground network. The ink had faded, but one path still gleamed faintly under the candlelight—the Forgotten Passage beneath the lotus pool. It had once connected the patriarch's study to the archive tower. Most had believed it sealed.
Most.
She traced the route with her fingertip.
Li Chen would not risk openly destroying evidence. But if he used the Forgotten Passage...
A knock broke her thoughts. Yun entered, his robes still damp with sweat and morning dew.
"He's moving fast," Yun said. "Zhao Ming might already be in hiding."
Lady Shen turned the map toward him. "Then we intercept him where they least expect it."
That night, under the cover of a thin mist, Yun and Lady Shen descended into the underground passage. Moss covered the old steps, and the stone walls echoed with their footsteps.
Torches flickered in Yun's hands.
Lady Shen paused at the threshold. "I haven't come down here since the old lord died."
"Then let's make sure it's not his secrets that survive him."
They stepped into the dark.
At the far end of the passage, they found something unexpected—a door. Not just locked, but sealed with four layered talismans.
Yun crouched down, scanning the runes. "These weren't meant to keep intruders out... they were meant to keep someone in."
Lady Shen narrowed her eyes. "Or something."
With practiced calm, Yun burned through the seals one by one, the flames flickering in strange colors. As the final one gave way, a low creak echoed and the door swung open.
Inside was a small chamber—bare except for a bench and a single lantern. And a man.
Old. Thin. Beard long and unkempt.
But very much alive.
Zhao Ming.
His eyes squinted against the light. "I told them... I told them the boy would come."
Yun's jaw tightened. "Why are you here?"
Zhao laughed, a dry, wheezing sound. "Because secrets age slower in the dark."
Lady Shen stepped forward. "What did they offer you to forge the death scroll?"
"Silver. Safety. And a lie to believe in."
Yun's hands clenched. "What lie?"
"That she was a danger to you. That the sigil would consume you. That killing her was saving you."
Lady Shen's voice cracked. "And you believed them?"
Zhao's gaze drifted. "I wanted to. I was tired of war. Of rebellion. But truth isn't a choice. It follows you."
Yun stepped closer. "Then tell me everything. Now."
In the flickering torchlight, Zhao Ming unraveled a tale long buried:
Li Chen, afraid of the growing influence of Yun's mother, orchestrated her political isolation. She had discovered corruption in the estate's silver trade—silver that funded secret border dealings. When she refused to stay silent, Li Chen moved to eliminate her.
The patriarch had known.
Zhao Ming had forged the scroll in exchange for protection for his own daughter—held hostage by the same forces.
And after his part was done, they locked him away, too dangerous to kill, too valuable to release.
By the end, Yun's fists trembled.
Lady Shen stepped between them. "We'll get you out. But only if you testify at the Summit."
Zhao Ming looked up, eyes red-rimmed. "I will. Let them fear the dead returned."
By dawn, Zhao Ming had been smuggled into a safe house near the estate's outer wall. Yun returned to his quarters alone.
Only to find a letter waiting.
Written in red ink. No signature.
"We see your fire. But we own the fuel. If you raise your blade at the Summit, Lady Shen will be the first to fall."
Yun crushed the parchment in his hand.
The war had begun.
But this time, he wasn't the only heir. And he wasn't alone.