Three nights after the ambush, Shen and the Crown Prince arrived at White Root Village, the "official" stop on their diplomatic tour.
They were greeted with drums and dancers, smiling elders, and scripted praise.
But Shen noticed it immediately.
"Too perfect. Too rehearsed. Too afraid."
Behind the smiles, he saw shuttered windows. Empty stables. Children hidden indoors.
Something simmered under the surface.
And when dusk fell, it surfaced.
A messenger slipped into Shen's chamber.
Young. Nervous. Hands shaking.
She dropped a red coin on the floor and whispered:
"He waits where the breath dies. Midnight. Alone."
Then she vanished.
Shen picked up the coin.
The dragon carved on its surface wasn't imperial.
It was broken in half — its tail missing.
The mark of the Southern Rebellion's inner circle.
At midnight, Shen slipped through the side gate into the cliffs beyond the village.
There, in a dry canyon choked with mist, he met the one who waited:
A man cloaked in desert cloth, face hidden, voice low and smooth.
He bowed deeply.
"Ghost Prince. We've followed you since Whispering Lantern Temple."
"You sent the assassin?"
"No. The Empire did. We sent the arrow."
A pause.
Then the man knelt, reached into his cloak, and withdrew a scroll wrapped in blood-stained silk.
"This was written by your uncle. Before he was executed in the capital. He said…'If the second-born lives, give him the right to choose.'"
Shen unwrapped the scroll.
Inside, just one sentence:
"The South will follow Li Yun."
Silence.
Mist.
And a choice that tasted like thunder.
The man said, "Take our banner. Lead us. We will burn the throne that betrayed you."
Shen didn't answer immediately.
He stared at the scroll.
At his name.
"Li Yun."
The name buried.
The name feared.
The name he'd tried to forget.
Back in the village, the Crown Prince drank in silence — alone in the governor's hall.
A soldier entered.
"Shall we prepare tomorrow's ceremony, Your Highness?"
Li Ren swirled the wine in his cup.
"No. Not yet."
"…Why not?"
The prince looked out the window.
Toward the cliffs.
"Because something just changed," he said.
"And when he returns…I need to know which side he chose."
Down in the canyon, Shen finally spoke.
Voice calm.Firm.Heavy as stone.
"I will not lead a rebellion."
The rebel's head dropped.
But Shen continued.
"Not yet."
He turned, cloak whipping in the wind.
"I will not burn the Empire.But I will make it remember what it tried to erase."
The rebel nodded once.
Then handed him a banner anyway.
Blank.
Waiting.
"Then when you are ready," he said, "we will be, too."