The smoke in Huayin clung to the skin like oil. It turned every breath into a taste of iron and ash.
Xie Lan moved through the narrow alleys, each step silent despite the debris crunching underfoot. His pale robes, once immaculate, now bore smudges of soot and streaks of dried blood. In his right hand, the Lunar Bone Sabre pulsed faintly — not in the sharp hum of battle-lust, but in a slow, measured beat. A heartbeat that matched his own.
Above, the red glow of the burning outer district painted the night sky. The flames licked the horizon, dancing in the silhouettes of fallen roofs. Somewhere ahead, booted feet scraped stone — hurried, uneven. Rebels, injured and desperate.
> [System Alert: Enemy presence detected. Combat efficiency calculation: 87.3%]
The voice in his mind was quieter than usual, almost as if it knew it was no longer the sole voice guiding him.
Xie Lan narrowed his golden eyes and signaled behind him.
Yao Qing stepped forward from the shadows, her black hair tied high in a warrior's braid. Her jade-green armor was scarred from the earlier fight, but her grip on her blade was steady, the knuckles white with focus.
"They're heading toward the granary," she murmured.
"Which means they're cornered," Xie Lan replied. "Flank them from the east. Leave the captain to me."
Yao Qing nodded once, her gaze lingering on him a heartbeat longer than necessary. Then she slipped into the side streets, moving like a shadow given form.
---
The alley widened into the granary courtyard or what was left of it. The storage houses lay in ruins, beams blackened from fire, grain spilling in golden mounds across the bloodied earth.
Three rebels huddled near a broken cart, their swords shaking in their hands. Behind them stood their captain, a tall man with a scar that cut across his face like a lightning bolt. His armor bore the sigil of the Western Peaks — a jagged mountain crowned with three black stars.
"You've run far enough," Xie Lan said, stepping into the courtyard.
The captain's eyes narrowed. "The Demon Heir…"
"I told you — stop calling me that."
The first rebel lunged forward with a roar, slashing clumsily.
Xie Lan sidestepped, the movement so fluid it seemed rehearsed a thousand times. He pivoted on his heel, the Lunar Bone Sabre tracing a crescent arc. The rebel's blade shattered upon contact, the fragments spinning into the air like silver rain.
The second man didn't wait. he swung from behind. Xie Lan ducked low, driving his elbow into the man's ribs with bone-cracking force. A sharp exhale escaped the rebel's lips before he collapsed, clutching his side.
The third backed away, eyes wide, until a shadow dropped from above. Yao Qing landed, her blade pressed to his throat before he could blink.
Only the captain remained.
---
"I've heard stories of you," the captain said, circling slowly. "They say you fight like a man who doesn't care if he dies."
"Maybe I already did," Xie Lan replied, his voice calm.
The captain roared and charged. His blade came in a heavy downward strike aimed at Xie Lan's shoulder — a killing blow if it landed. Xie Lan caught the blade on the flat of his sabre, the impact ringing like a temple bell.
He shifted his stance, sliding his foot between the captain's, twisting his wrist just enough to force the rebel's weapon aside. In the same motion, he spun, the sabre slicing upward — not to kill, but to cut the man's arm open from wrist to elbow. The captain dropped his sword with a cry.
> [System: Target neutralized. Interrogation recommended.]
Xie Lan stepped closer, pressing the bone-white edge to the man's throat.
"Who sent you to Huayin? Who gave the order to burn the town?"
The captain's breath came in ragged gasps. "We fight for the… one who sleeps beneath chains."
Yao Qing's eyes flicked toward Xie Lan.
"And who is that?" Xie Lan pressed.
But before the man could answer, a thin blade of black steel burst through his chest from behind. He choked once, blood spilling from his mouth, and fell forward — dead.
In the shadows beyond the courtyard, a figure in bronze mask turned and vanished into the smoke.
---
The bronze-masked assassin was fast.
Too fast for an ordinary human.
The moment the captain's body hit the ground, they were already melting into the smoke, boots barely whispering against the rubble.
Xie Lan didn't hesitate. His sabre flashed once — a silver arc in the dim light — and he was in motion, vaulting over the captain's corpse and chasing into the burning streets.
Yao Qing sprinted at his flank, the chain at her hip rattling faintly with each step.
---
The assassin cut through a narrow market lane, weaving between the skeletal remains of stalls. The ground was uneven, split tiles, pools of water from ruptured cisterns, and smoldering beams that still spat sparks.
Xie Lan's eyes scanned once — memorizing every obstacle — then locked onto the assassin's moving silhouette. He shifted his weight forward, lowering his center of gravity. Speed, not brute force, would decide this chase.
---
A toppled wagon blocked the path.
The assassin vaulted over it, barely breaking stride.
Xie Lan followed but instead of jumping cleanly, he planted his foot on the cart's side, using it as a springboard. The momentum launched him higher, letting him flip midair and land several paces closer to his target.
"Nice," Yao Qing muttered, not losing ground herself.
---
They burst into a wider street. Here, the firelight revealed the assassin fully — lean frame, armor lacquered in bronze, mask etched with twisted horns.
Xie Lan swung the sabre in a diagonal slash, aiming to cripple the target's leg.
The assassin twisted just in time, the blade catching only the edge of their cloak. Cloth tore with a hiss.
---
Yao Qing seized the opening. She whipped her chain forward — the hooked end snapping around the assassin's arm. With a sharp yank, she tried to pull them off balance.
The assassin didn't resist. They leaned into the pull, spinning with the motion, and used the momentum to fling a short throwing knife back at Xie Lan's face.
He tilted his head by a hair's breadth — the blade shaved a lock of hair before embedding into the wall beside him.
---
The street ended in a collapsed building.
The assassin ran up its half-fallen wall, using the slanted surface to vault onto the roof.
Xie Lan followed — feet slapping the angled stone, momentum carrying him upward. The sabre's weight didn't slow him; instead, it pulled him forward like a tether. His landing was silent, only the faint crackle of embers beneath his boots.
From the roof, Huayin's devastation stretched in every direction — flames licking the night, the smell of blood heavy in the air.
---
The assassin darted toward a narrow beam connecting two rooftops. A misstep here meant a twenty-foot drop into the street below.
"Cut them off!" Xie Lan barked.
Yao Qing leapt down to the next roof, intercepting the beam's far end. The assassin skidded to a halt — trapped between them.
They reached for another throwing knife.
Xie Lan moved first.
He dashed across the beam — each footstep perfectly balanced — and slashed at the assassin's mask. The strike split the left horn clean off, sending it clattering into the street.
For the first time, the assassin faltered.
---
They met in the center of the beam — sabre against twin daggers. Sparks flew, raining into the street below.
Xie Lan's strikes were precise, each blow angled to force the assassin's weight backward. The beam trembled under them. Yao Qing circled for an opening, her chain poised.
Finally, Xie Lan feinted high, then spun low, sweeping the assassin's legs. They toppled but instead of falling, they hooked one dagger into the beam's edge and swung underneath, landing catlike on the opposite side.
With a flick of their wrist, a smoke bomb burst, obscuring the roofline.
---
Through the haze, Xie Lan's golden eyes caught a flash of movement — too quick for the untrained. He lunged, sabre stabbing through the smoke.
Metal met metal.
When the cloud cleared, his blade was pressed to the assassin's throat — and Yao Qing's chain wrapped around their torso.
Slowly, Xie Lan reached forward and tore off the mask.
His breath caught.
It wasn't some nameless killer.
It was one of the Emperor's own palace guards — the same elite corps sworn to protect the royal bloodline above all else.
And the look in their eyes… was not loyalty.
It was fear.
---
The palace guard knelt on the cracked rooftop, chain digging into their ribs, the cold curve of the Lunar Bone Sabre kissing the side of their throat.
Their breath came shallow, misting faintly in the night air.
Yao Qing tightened her grip on the chain — the hooked ends creaked, threatening to pierce deeper into the lacquered armor.
"Talk," she said flatly.
The guard's eyes flicked between them, the muscles in their jaw flexing. No answer.
---
Xie Lan's method
He didn't raise his voice.
He simply leaned closer, his gaze locking onto theirs with the kind of stillness that makes a person's heartbeat painfully loud in their own ears.
"You were in the Emperor's inner circle," Xie Lan murmured. "I know that uniform. That crest. You've stood in the same chamber as my father. And yet…"
He angled the blade just enough for a drop of blood to bead along its edge.
"You tried to kill me."
---
First crack in the armor
The guard's eyes twitched. Not from pain — from the mention of the Emperor.
"That's not..." He began, then cut himself off.
Yao Qing yanked the chain, forcing him forward onto his knees.
"Not what?" she pressed, voice sharper now. "Not the Emperor's order? Or not your choice?"
The guard's mouth tightened.
---
Xie Lan presses
"I don't care if you live or die," Xie Lan said calmly. "But I care about who sent you."
He slowly turned the sabre, letting its cold edge trace the line of their collarbone.
"I can take one ear now and the other after you've thought about your answer."
A bead of sweat rolled down the guard's temple.
---
The confession
"It wasn't… the Emperor," he finally said.
Xie Lan didn't move. He waited.
"It was the Crown Prince," the guard spat, as if saying the name cost him something. "He said you carried… something dangerous back from the mountains. Something that would… ruin the Empire."
"And you believed him?" Yao Qing scoffed.
The guard's eyes flicked to Xie Lan.
"I believed… what I saw."
---
The hook
Xie Lan tilted his head. "And what did you see?"
The guard swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.
"You… in the palace… standing in the Hall of Stars… crowned in fire. The Emperor dead at your feet. The Crown Prince..."
He didn't finish. His eyes widened suddenly.
---
Assassination inside the interrogation
Before either of them could react, the guard's body jerked violently — a thin black dart jutting from the base of his skull. His mouth opened soundlessly, and then he crumpled forward.
Yao Qing spun instantly, scanning the rooftops.
"There!" she hissed — a shadow slipping away into the firelit smoke.
Xie Lan straightened, eyes narrowing.
"They silenced him before he said too much."
---
Yao Qing glanced at him. "We go after the shooter?"
The sabre hummed faintly in Xie Lan's grip. His answer was quiet, but final:
"No. We burn the lies first. The palace will try to frame this as rebellion."
The fires of Huayin crackled around them. The air smelled of ash and blood.
The guard's body lay sprawled on the rooftop, chain still looped around his chest like a mockery of restraint. The dart in the base of his skull was thin enough to miss in shadow, but its poison stank faintly of bitter almond. Whoever sent it knew their craft.
Xie Lan wiped the sabre clean on his lacquered armor, the blade's hum low and steady. Yao Qing crouched beside the corpse, fingers brushing the dart just enough to test its give.
"Fast poison," she murmured. "Kills before they can even scream. Whoever the shooter was… they've done this before."
"They were aiming for silence, not for us," she said. "And they hit exactly what they wanted."
They both knew what that meant — the Crown Prince had eyes in Huayin, and they weren't just watching. They were pulling strings.
Beneath us, the city groaned under the weight of its dead. The smell of burning rafters mixed with the stench of blood, a scent that would cling to the skin for days. In the streets, survivors moved like shadows, searching for kin, for water, for a reason to keep walking.
Yao Qing's gaze slid toward Xie Lan. "If we're not going after the shooter, what's next?"
Lan stepped to the edge of the roof, scanning the broken sprawl of Huayin. Even in ruin, it spoke. Every collapsed archway and scorched wall whispered of how it had fallen — not to chance, but to intent.
"The palace will call this rebellion," he said quietly. "They'll say Huayin rose against the throne, and the Crown Prince saved the rest of us from their treachery."
Yao Qing's jaw tightened. "And anyone who could prove otherwise…" She glanced at the guard's body.
"Will vanish," he finished for her.
A distant rumble rolled through the smoke, not thunder, but the sound of another building giving way.
Xie Lan sheathed the Lunar Bone Sabre. "We start with the survivors. Anyone who saw the truth leaves with us before the palace censors arrive. We give them new names if we have to. But they will live — and they will remember."
Yao Qing tilted her head slightly. "And when the Crown Prince hears we've taken his witnesses?"
The corner of my mouth lifted, though there was no humor in it. "Then he'll have to come for me himself."
They moved.
[Palace — The Emperor's Hall]
The sandalwood air was unbroken, but beneath it pulsed the quiet hum of danger.
The Emperor descended from his throne, each step deliberate, the weight of his robes whispering against the jade floor. He stopped just short of the Crown Prince.
"You say he vanished," the Emperor said. "From a battlefield you commanded."
Xie Yan lowered his eyes, but not his chin. "Vanished, yes. Escaped, perhaps. But not without cost."
"And the cost to you?"
Xie Yan's lips curved faintly. "I learn more from him in absence than in presence."
The Emperor said nothing — a silence heavy enough to bend spines.
---
[Huayin — Northern Quarter]
Smoke curled through the alleyways like serpents. The sky was a dull orange, the sun smothered by soot.
Xie Lan moved at the front of a column of survivors — wounded soldiers, scorched monks, two children clinging to each other. Yao Qing kept to the rear, blade drawn, her gaze never still.
"Left," Xie Lan ordered, voice low but carrying.
They cut through a collapsed archway, boots crunching over glass and charred brick. Somewhere ahead, water dripped steadily — the old aqueduct still running.
Then Yao Qing hissed... "Three on the roof"
---
[Palace — The Emperor's Hall]
Grand Chancellor Huai leaned forward, hands clasped in a posture of respect that didn't hide his relish for what came next.
"If Your Majesty wills it, I can dispatch a small detachment — nothing official. No banners. Just enough to make certain… inconvenient stories… never leave Huayin."
The Emperor regarded him coolly. "And if my son is among them?"
Huai's smile didn't falter. "Then you will have certainty, one way or another."
Li Meiyan's eyes flicked to Xie Yan. She did not speak, but the faint tightening of her fingers in her sleeves betrayed thought.
---
[Huayin — Northern Quarter Rooftops]
The first assassin dropped silently, twin blades flashing in the smoke.
Xie Lan moved before the man's feet touched the ground. His sabre rose in a diagonal cut, the bone-white blade sliding past the assassin's guard and locking against his wrist. A twist — a crack. The blade clattered onto the stone.
"Two more!" Yao Qing shouted. She hooked a chain around the second's ankle mid-leap, yanking him sideways into the wall. The impact burst a cloud of dust and shattered tiles.
The third came in low, dagger aimed for Xie Lan's ribs.
Xie Lan pivoted, trapping the assassin's wrist under his arm, his free hand snapping forward into the man's throat. The sound was a wet choke. He pushed him back into the shadows.
The survivors didn't scream. They had learned not to.
---
[Palace — Private Corridor Outside the Hall]
Xie Yan caught up with Li Meiyan before she could turn the corner.
"You disagreed," he said quietly.
She paused, eyes still ahead. "I refined. There's a difference."
"Refinement is not needed. Eradication is."
Her lips curved faintly. "And yet eradication leaves nothing to shape. Sometimes… leaving a thread dangling tempts more than cutting it."
His eyes narrowed. "You speak as though you know which thread he is."
She turned then, smiling without warmth. "Don't you?"
---
[Huayin — Aqueduct Edge]
They reached the water. The aqueduct ran beneath the street here, the stone opening large enough to hide twenty people if pressed.
"In," Xie Lan ordered.
The survivors hesitated only a moment before clambering down. Yao Qing dropped last, pausing to check the smoke-stained sky.
Xie Lan scanned the street — empty now, except for the faintest sound of soft sandals on stone.
He turned toward the sound but saw only the flutter of a white silk sleeve disappearing into the haze.
A woman's voice drifted back through the smoke.
"The palace awaits you, Your Highness… when you are ready to bleed."
---
The words lingered in the smoke long after the woman was gone.
When you are ready to bleed.
Xie Lan stood perfectly still, listening to the empty street. The survivors below in the aqueduct shifted restlessly, their fear palpable even through the stone.
Yao Qing emerged from the shadows, her chain still in hand. "Who was that?"
"A ghost," Xie Lan said quietly. "One that walks inside the palace walls."
The Lunar Bone Sabre gave a faint, low hum — not the thrill of impending battle, but the darker vibration it carried when danger spoke truth.
---
They couldn't leave Huayin yet. Not while the city's gates were still unguarded and the palace's riders could arrive at any moment to take the survivors — and their stories — away.
Xie Lan moved fast, signaling Yao Qing to follow. They crossed the main square, now a blackened crater where the granary had been. A toppled statue of the first Emperor lay face-down, its stone crown cracked in two.
At the eastern gate, three wounded soldiers still held their posts — barely standing, their spears shaking in their hands.
"You will hold until the third watch," Xie Lan told them. "After that, bar the gate from the inside and vanish. Let no one through who bears the Crown Prince's colors."
One of them started to protest — then caught his gaze and thought better of it.
---
Before leaving the northern quarter, Xie Lan returned to the rooftop where the palace guard's corpse still lay. The dart remained in the base of his skull, gleaming faintly in the dim light.
Yao Qing knelt beside the body. "We can't carry him. Too obvious. Too dangerous."
"I'm not carrying him," Xie Lan replied. From his sleeve, he pulled a scrap of paper and a small stick of charcoal. He sketched the guard's face quickly — the sharp cheekbones, the scar under his left eye, the exact angle of his uniform's crest.
When the sketch was done, he tore the paper in half — keeping one piece for himself and handing the other to Yao Qing.
"Find someone in Huayin who knows how to vanish," he said. "Give them this. Tell them to send it to the western traders. The Crown Prince may own the palace walls, but he does not own the Silk Road."
---
Back at the aqueduct, the survivors waited in tense silence. The younger child clutched the older's sleeve, eyes darting toward every sound.
Xie Lan dropped into the water channel, the cold stone damp against his boots. "You leave in three groups," he told them. "Different routes. Different names. Forget Huayin if you must — but remember what you saw here."
He looked at each of them in turn, letting the weight of his gaze settle. "When they come for you — and they will — remember who truly burned your homes."
A grizzled monk stepped forward, pressing two fingers to his brow, then to Xie Lan's chest. "We remember," he said.
---
They left Huayin under the veil of early dawn, when the sky was still bruised with smoke and the air carried the faintest chill.
From the ridge above the city, Xie Lan paused. Below, Huayin lay like a carcass picked clean — its streets littered with the bones of walls, its temples open to the sky.
Yao Qing stood beside him. "When we return, it will be to burn the lies."
Xie Lan didn't answer. He didn't need to. The sabre at his hip gave its low, steady hum — a promise to the dead.
Far to the east, beyond the black line of the mountains, the Imperial Palace waited.
And inside its jade walls, the Crown Prince was already preparing the next move.