The courtyard still reeked of blood.
Xie Lan stood amidst the ruin of the Crimson Duel, the distant sound of collapsing stone echoing from the shattered battle arena behind him. Night had fallen, cloaking the mountain in velvet shadows. Wind whipped around his figure, carrying the scent of burnt incense and scorched robes. His chest rose and fell, not from exhaustion—but from what stirred within him. Power. The Lunar Bone Sabre pulsed faintly at his side, its bone-white surface humming like it remembered blood.
Yao Qing approached, his shoulder wounded, face drawn. "You shouldn't have spared him."
Xie Lan's eyes flickered. "No. But I needed him to send a message."
They both looked down the mountain path, where the remnants of the Crimson Warden's guards lay scattered—alive, but barely. Bound by frost and silence.
---
In the days that followed, rumors spread like wildfire.
The Forbidden Mountains had witnessed a battle not seen in a century. A youth clad in black and silver had stood against a Warden feared across the empire—and walked away victorious. He carried an ancient weapon born of bone and moonlight. They called him Demon Heir. They called him the Reaper Prince.
But in the palace, the whispers were darker.
---
"He's alive?" Crown Prince Xie Yan's voice cracked across the room like a whip. He stood before a glowing jade mirror, which shimmered with arcane light. Li Meiyan's image flickered on its surface, calm as always. "How is he still alive after facing the Crimson Warden?"
"Perhaps you underestimated your brother again," Meiyan replied, a touch of mirth in her tone.
"You speak as though it amuses you."
"It does. Because while you send blades and shadows, he gathers loyalty. That makes him dangerous."
Xie Yan's fists clenched. He turned from the mirror and strode to the balcony, where red lanterns swayed in the palace breeze. Below, ministers scurried like ants in their silken robes.
"He's returning," Xie Yan murmured. "I can feel it."
---
And he was.
Through forests soaked in mist, across lakes that shimmered with starlight, Xie Lan and Yao Qing journeyed back toward the empire's core. Their path cut through abandoned villages, ruins marked with strange ash symbols.
"There's unrest," Yao Qing noted. "Too quiet. Even the beasts avoid these woods."
That was when they found the girl.
She stood in the middle of a field of withered lotus. No more than twelve. Hair white as snow, eyes like fire. She looked at Xie Lan without fear.
"You carry the scent of my mistress," she said.
Xie Lan stepped forward. "Who are you?"
The girl tilted her head. "I am ash. I am silence. And my mistress waits in a kingdom long forgotten."
She raised her hand, and the world shattered into cinders.
---
They awoke in a palace buried beneath the earth.
The sky above was stone. The air smelled of rose petals and death. Every surface was gilded in obsidian and gold. Murals lined the walls, depicting a woman with a crown of flame. She sat atop mountains of corpses, a smile on her lips, tears in her eyes.
"Welcome to the Ashen Throne," the girl whispered. "Welcome to her court."
At the end of the great hall stood a woman clad in black. Her gown flowed like smoke. Her eyes were painted with sorrow. Her skin, flawless and pale, gleamed beneath a dozen lanterns filled with crimson flame.
"You carry the Moon Empress's blood," she said. "And yet you do not kneel."
Xie Lan bowed his head—but did not kneel.
"Because I kneel to no one."
The Queen of Ashes smiled.
"Good. Then you might survive what's to come."
---
A long silence stretched between them. Behind the Queen, servants moved like ghosts—women with eyes sealed shut and lips sewn with golden thread. They carried trays of dark fruit, incense, and vials that shimmered like liquid fire. Yao Qing reached for her weapon.
"Do not," the Queen said. Her voice wasn't loud, but it stopped her cold. "If I wanted you dead, you would already be ash."
Xie Lan stepped forward. "Why did you bring us here?"
The Queen descended from her throne, her bare feet silent on the polished obsidian floor. She stopped before him, lifting a hand to brush her fingers near his cheek—but not touching.
"Because you are like me. A heart burned by betrayal. A soul sculpted by loss. The court thinks you a villain, but they know nothing of what villains are made from."
Xie Lan didn't speak.
"You want revenge," she continued. "Not just for your mother. Not just for your throne. But for every time they called you cursed."
His jaw tightened.
"I can help you. I ruled long before the current dynasty stood. I was erased. Forgotten. Buried alive in myth and lies. But my fire never died. And it calls to yours."
"You want me to serve you?"
The Queen smiled. "No. I want you to remember who you are."
She turned to a mural behind her, pressing her palm against the stone. It shimmered, revealing an image of the Moon Empress holding a baby wrapped in silk.
"She brought you to me once. When you were barely a whisper."
Xie Lan blinked. "My mother?"
"She feared for your fate. She asked me to bless you with the strength to survive what was to come."
The Queen turned back. "And I did."
Yao Qing looked at Xie Lan, stunned.
"That means—"
"He was chosen by the fire," the Queen said. "Your enemies rise. The Crown Prince stirs war. The palace bleeds from within. But you… you are not alone. Not anymore."
---
Back at the palace, Crown Prince Xie Yan received word.
A shadow knelt before him. "They've disappeared."
"Into the earth?"
"Yes, Your Highness. Into the lost palace of ashes."
Xie Yan's face paled.
"So she lives."
He turned to the mirror again.
"Tell Meiyan. It's time. We strike first. Before he returns reborn."
The Queen of Ashes had awakened. And with her, so too had the true heir's fire
---
The glow of the Ashen Throne faded behind them.
Xie Lan and Yao Qing emerged from the cavern of smoke and memory, their hearts heavier than before. Though the Queen of Ashes had not laid a hand on them, her words clung like frost to their skin. Her voice still echoed in Xie Lan's bones: "Your heart is not yet your own."
The mist around the Forgotten Vale coiled like snakes. Black blossoms bloomed beneath their footsteps. Yao Qing remained silent, eyes darting through the trees.
"She knew about my mother," Xie Lan muttered. "About the Emperor's betrayal, the celestial script. Even things I don't remember."
"She's older than the empire itself," Yao Qing replied. "Some say she loved the Moon Empress. Others say she killed her."
Xie Lan's hand hovered over the Lunar Bone Sabre. It had gone quiet, as if unsure of its place in this new web of fate.
Then, a rustle in the brush. A dagger flew.
Xie Lan caught it mid-air.
More shadows leapt from the trees. Assassins in black and bronze, their faces hidden behind masks shaped like twisted beasts. Xie Lan dropped into a crouch, motioned to Yao Qing.
"Split left. Don't kill unless you must."
The forest exploded into motion.
---
By the time the final attacker fell, breathless and bleeding into the roots of an ancient tree, the moon had risen high. Xie Lan stood over the masked leader.
"Who sent you?"
The man chuckled, teeth red. "You were supposed to die in the Vale. But the Queen spared you. That means she wants you to suffer."
"She said nothing of—"
"She doesn't have to. All who wear the ash mark follow her breath."
Xie Lan tore the mask from the man's face.
It wasn't a stranger.
It was one of the Emperor's personal shadow guards. Trained from childhood. Loyal to death.
Xie Lan rose slowly. "So it begins."
---
Meanwhile, deep within the Imperial City...
The Crown Prince stood before a hidden chamber, guarded by a thousand silent spells. Inside, an altar burned with blue fire. At its center lay a single dagger—obsidian, carved from a demon's spine. The Dagger of Oaths.
Beside him, Crown Princess Li Meiyan watched with veiled interest.
"You would make the pact, Highness?"
Xie Yan nodded. "If my brother wishes to awaken the old bloodlines, then I must walk the darker path."
He stepped forward. Blood dripped onto the dagger.
The fire roared to life. A shadow twisted upward, whispering in an ancient tongue.
From the depths of the chamber, something smiled.
---
The next morning, Xie Lan and Yao Qing made camp near the Singing River. Water glistened over smooth stones, birds called out like flute songs, and the forest seemed almost peaceful—until a body floated downstream.
Yao Qing was the first to reach it. A boy, no older than twelve, dressed in the robes of the Mountain Temple. His eyes were open, clouded, mouth frozen in a scream.
"What kind of enemy slaughters monks?" Yao Qing whispered.
Xie Lan found the answer carved into the boy's back: a spiral of runes, etched with blade or curse.
"Not what," he said. "Who."
---
In the palace, the Crown Prince had begun his transformation. Veins darkened, eyes glowed silver. He moved with inhuman precision, voice lower than before.
"The oath is made. The dagger has tasted blood. My brother cannot be allowed to reclaim the throne."
Li Meiyan handed him a scroll. "Then you will need allies that fear your name."
---
Xie Lan and Yao Qing followed the river to the ruins of an old shrine. There, they found an old friend: Priest Fanxu, once the guardian of the Lunar Codex, now a mad wanderer covered in ash and gold.
"The Queen watches," he croaked. "The prince bleeds. The stars turn."
Xie Lan grabbed his robes. "Tell me how to stop him."
Fanxu only smiled. "You can't stop fire with fire. You need the wind."
"Wind?"
Fanxu's eyes rolled back. "She comes. She burns. The Queen rides the comet once more."
Thunder cracked.
The sky above them split open.
---
Rain crashed down like war drums.
Xie Lan stood beneath the fractured heavens, water trailing down his cheeks like unshed grief. Yao Qing beside him had drawn her sword again, the scent of lightning and blood clinging to the edge of steel. Before them stood the Queen's new envoy—a figure clad in layers of silken shadows, crowned with a veil of flame.
"You walk too boldly in cursed lands, child of the fallen Empress," they said. "Turn back or burn with the rest."
Xie Lan didn't flinch. "Tell her I remember. Tell her the name she tried to erase is now carved in the bones of fate."
The figure raised a hand. From the forest, creatures emerged—neither fully man nor beast, twisted by old magic and vengeance. Their eyes gleamed blue like the ashes of forgotten kings.
Yao Qing muttered, "I count at least fourteen. Maybe more behind the trees."
"We hold our ground," Xie Lan replied. "No more running."
They struck first. Swords met claws, spells lit the sky. The air rippled with ancient power, older than the palace itself. Xie Lan moved like wind and thunder, the Lunar Bone Sabre singing its name into flesh. Yao Qing's blade danced a song of death.
But then....
One of the beasts broke formation and knelt. A woman's voice cried out from its twisted throat:
"Xie Lan! It's me—Do Niang!"
His hand froze.
The creature's face shimmered. Beneath the grotesque transformation, a flicker of humanity returned. It was indeed Do Niang, the handmaid who once taught him to braid his hair. Her eyes pleaded.
"Help me... before she takes the last of me."
---
Back in the palace, the Crown Prince faced his father.
The Emperor sat upon a cold throne, robes heavy with symbols. He looked older than memory.
"I hear you've taken the Oath."
Xie Yan bowed his head. "I did it for the realm."
The Emperor studied him. "You did it for the throne. Just like your mother did."
A silence heavier than steel fell.
"Why did you kill her?" Xie Yan asked, voice low.
The Emperor rose. "Because she forgot her place. Because love... doesn't rule kingdoms. Fear does."
---
Back in the storm, Xie Lan dropped his blade.
He placed a hand on Do Niang's brow and whispered an incantation taught to him by the Queen of Ashes herself. Magic surged. Her monstrous form twisted, cracked—and collapsed into ash.
The other creatures shrieked, scattered into the forest.
The veiled envoy did not flee. They smiled.
"So the Queen gave you more than a warning. She gave you a key."
Xie Lan stepped forward. "And I'll use it to unlock every sealed truth."
The storm began to die.
Yao Qing leaned on her sword, chest heaving. "What now?"
Xie Lan turned to her.
"Now... we go to the Vermillion Library. It holds the names of all who lived, died, or were erased. I want to know who erased my mother's name and why."
Above them, lightning carved a name into the sky.
His mother's name.
Spoken aloud by the wind.
---
The wind over the dunes whispered secrets.
Xie Lan and Yao Qing stood at the edge of a forgotten land—a desert of shattered monuments and twisted glass trees. The sun beat down relentlessly, reflecting off crystalline shards that rose from the earth like broken bones. This was no ordinary place. It was a graveyard carved from betrayal, a memory sealed in time.
"It looks like a battlefield," Yao Qing murmured.
"It is," Xie Lan replied. "A war they erased from every history scroll but couldn't bury from the land itself."
The City of Glass Graves was silent, yet alive. Each step they took over the sand echoed like footsteps through a cathedral. Broken statues lined the ancient path—warriors, nobles, mothers clutching children—all turned to translucent stone.
"Do you hear that?" Yao Qing asked suddenly.
A soft humming filled the air, almost like chanting. As they moved deeper into the city, the source became clear... a dome of crystal stood in the center, surrounded by hundreds of faceless guardians.
And within it… a single throne, empty but stained with dried blood.
Xie Lan approached. As he neared the throne, the ghost of a child flickered into view—his younger self, sitting there, laughing. Behind the illusion stood his mother, brushing his hair, smiling.
Then, like shattered glass, the memory fractured.
He dropped to his knees.
"They killed them here," he whispered. "They turned the fallen into glass so no one would remember."
Yao Qing knelt beside him. "We remember now. We make it matter."
Suddenly, the sand rippled.
The ground beneath them cracked—and a hidden tomb opened beneath their feet. They fell through a tunnel of firelight and ancient runes, landing in a subterranean hall where the air stank of forgotten blood.
Before them, murals carved into obsidian walls told the truth: the Empress Dowager's rise, her forbidden pact with the old gods, and her betrayal of Li Mei'an. She had offered the glass city as a sacrifice to gain her immortality.
In the center of the room was a sealed coffin.
A sword pinned the lid shut, and chains pulsed with life.
"It's her," Xie Lan said. "My mother's soul is bound here."
Yao Qing stepped forward, then froze. "We're not alone."
From the shadows, six figures emerged—cloaked in bone and sand. They were known as the Gravebound, loyal only to the Empress Dowager. Their leader stepped forward, removing her mask.
It was someone Xie Lan recognized.
"Aunt Lin," he breathed.
She had once cared for him. Raised him. Lied to him.
"I warned you never to come here," she said coldly.
"You raised me to be a weapon. I chose to be a flame," Xie Lan growled.
With a scream, the Gravebound attacked.
Swords clashed in the dark. Runes exploded against skin. Yao Qing fought like a phantom, her movements sharp as moonlight. Xie Lan unleashed his rage, his sabre dancing in arcs of blood and fury.
He faced Aunt Lin directly.
"You could have told me the truth!"
"She was already dead!" she shouted, blades spinning. "All I could do was protect what was left of you."
"You protected the lie."
With one final strike, Xie Lan shattered her blade, the force throwing her back against the wall.
Breathing hard, he turned to the coffin. The chains pulsed. The sword trembled.
"I need your help, Qing," he said.
Together, they lifted the blade.
A shockwave burst from the coffin, throwing them back. Light spilled out—red, gold, and silver. A woman's voice echoed through the cavern:
"Xie Lan…"
Then silence.
The chains vanished. The coffin cracked open.
And inside… nothing.
Only a single feather remained—crimson and warm to the touch.
"She's not here," Yao Qing said, stunned.
"No," Xie Lan whispered, eyes narrowing. "She was moved. Someone feared we'd find her."
On the wall behind them, new words were forming in blood:
"She remembers the crown."
Xie Lan rose, his voice steady.
"Then the palace is our next battleground."
They emerged from the tomb to find the city changed.
The glass had melted. The statues wept.
And the skies above them bled red.
---
The eastern sky burned red, but not with dawn. It was fire—rising, spreading, twisting like a vengeful spirit over the distant horizon. The border town of Huayin had fallen. The once-golden banners of the Empire now lay in the ash, trampled by the merciless advance of rebels from the Western Peaks.
Xie Lan stood on a scorched ridge, his pale robes fluttering like a ghost's sleeve in the smoke. Behind him, a handful of survivors, cultivators, broken soldiers, refugees, watched him in silence, waiting for orders.
But he didn't speak yet.
The System pinged softly in his mind.
> [SYSTEM ALERT: Fatality threshold exceeded in Host proximity — activating strategic mode.]
[Suggested Action: Initiate Suppression Protocol. Estimated success rate: 72.6%]
Xie Lan's golden eyes didn't flicker.
"Suppress?" he whispered. "No… I'll purify."
He stepped forward, his fingers curling. From his palm, silver light shimmered—not merely spiritual energy, but something more ancient. Something he had only recently begun to understand.
Something he hadn't learned from the System.
---
Beneath the City's Bones
The remnants of Huayin groaned beneath his feet. Flames licked the sky, but the streets were silent now, choked with smoke and memory.
Yao Qing emerged from the shadows, blood on her blade. Her armor was scorched, her braid singed, but her gaze—unyielding.
"We lost seventy-three," she said bluntly. "Most were healers."
Xie Lan nodded once. "And the Crown Prince?"
"Still at the palace. Watching from safety."
The words stung more than he let on.
He walked forward, down the broken temple steps, and toward a courtyard where the rebels' leader had fallen. There, among the rubble, was a small hand—burned, motionless.
A child.
His breath hitched. And for a brief, dangerous moment, the rage returned.
---
A Whisper from the Past
"Lan'er," a soft voice called.
He blinked.
He was no longer in Huayin. The flames had vanished. He was in the old courtyard from his childhood. Lotus flowers bloomed. The wind was warm.
And his mother… was there.
She sat beneath the plum tree, dressed in white and silver, her hand reaching toward him.
"You'll forget this place," she said gently. "But I'll always be here. In your blood. In your stillness."
He opened his mouth—wanted to speak, to run to her, to...
A bell rang. The vision shattered.
He was back in the present. Yao Qing was watching him warily.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he raised a hand and summoned the full force of his cultivation. The ground trembled. Silver veins split the scorched earth, racing outward. From their glow, the land began to heal.
Fire turned to mist. Ash turned to grass.
The System buzzed faintly, but no words followed. It had suggested suppression. He had chosen something else.
He had chosen mercy.
---
Meanwhile… in the Imperial Palace
The Crown Prince, Xie Yan, stood before the Grand Astrologer. The stars had shifted. The Eastern Dragon constellation had dimmed for the first time in a century.
"He's surpassing the System," the Astrologer murmured. "It's dangerous."
Xie Yan turned slowly. "Then perhaps… it's time we remind him who gave him that power."
A letter was already on the table—sealed with red wax.
It bore the Imperial Crest.
And it was headed for Cold Moon Valley.