The heavens wept silver that night. Thin streams of light bled across the starry canopy, each streak carrying an oppressive ripple of divine authority. Liu Shen stood on the highest balcony of the Phoenix Palace, his eyes locked on the northern horizon where a faint glow split the darkness.
"They're fast," Yu Meixing said quietly, stepping beside him. Her gaze was sharper than the wind's chill, her black hair flowing like ink. "Too fast. That isn't the pace of a traveling envoy—it's pursuit."
Liu Shen's lips curved into a thin line. "They've already scented the Phoenix Vein."
From the shadows behind them, Lei Qing emerged, his hands clasped behind his back. "The palace wards will slow them, but only if the Empress uses the full authority of the Throne. Will she?"
"She will," Liu Shen said, his tone certain. "But she'll bleed for it."
Below, the palace courtyards stirred. The Phoenix Guard assembled in silence, their crimson armor catching stray lantern light. Zhao Ying appeared at the forefront, her robes a cascade of flame, her golden eyes reflecting both pride and an unspoken urgency.
"The Envoys are three nights away at most," she announced to her guard. "They will come cloaked in courtesy, but their purpose is theft. Any who breach the inner sanctum are to be silenced before their breath returns to them."
Her words carried across the marble like steel scraping stone. Yet Liu Shen could feel her aura shifting, pulling deeper into the earth, resonating with the Phoenix Vein's pulse.
When the meeting dispersed, she approached him. "The Vein is stirring faster now. It reacts to threat… to blood." Her voice lowered. "If they arrive before I finish the Rite, the Vein may choose them instead."
"That won't happen," Liu Shen replied, his eyes glinting faintly with a demonic hue. "Because tonight, we clip their wings before they even see the palace."
The plan took shape quickly—Meixing to weave shadow veils along the northern approaches, Lei Qing to lay traps that warped divine senses, and Liu Shen himself to hunt ahead.
By midnight, he had already left the palace, a streak of black cutting through the moonlit sky. Far ahead, beyond the mountains, he saw them—six figures descending on wings of white flame, their presence bending the wind.
The Heaven's Envoys.
And Liu Shen, smiling faintly in the dark, whispered to himself: "Let's see how fragile those wings are."