☀️ A Few Days in Lin Xuan's Home
It had been three days since that night.
Ever since Zi Yueyan "temporarily" stayed in Lin Xuan's house, the atmosphere of the place had slowly changed.
Before, the house was always silent—only the sound of the wind and the creak of a door left ajar.
Now, there were light footsteps in the morning, the aroma of simple cooking, and sometimes the sound of a woman complaining about the unbearable dust in the kitchen.
"Lin Xuan, how long has it been since you last cleaned this kitchen?"
"I wouldn't know," Lin Xuan replied flatly without turning his head. "Since the last time I left this house."
"And when was that?"
"Five months ago, perhaps."
Yueyan let out an irritated snort. "I don't know which is worse, the state of your house or your humor."
Lin Xuan, who was sharpening his sword, only glanced at her. "Then fix them both."
Zi Yueyan glared at him, but then smiled a little unknowingly.
Somehow, their arguments, which used to feel like two swords clashing, now felt... warm.
That afternoon, as the sun began to set behind the hills, Lin Xuan sat in the backyard, slowly sharpening his sword.
Light footsteps sounded behind him.
Zi Yueyan appeared carrying two bowls of tea and a small piece of rice cake.
Without saying anything, she placed them beside Lin Xuan and sat down on the wooden floor.
"Aren't you practicing today?" Lin Xuan asked without looking up.
"I did. But I couldn't focus."
"Why?"
"I don't know," Yueyan replied, looking up at the orange sky. "Maybe because I'm not used to... feeling peaceful."
Lin Xuan stopped moving his whetstone, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
"Peace can sometimes be more frightening than war," he said softly. "Because you don't know when it will end."
Zi Yueyan turned her head. "Do you feel that way too?"
Lin Xuan offered a faint smile. "It's been a long time since I knew what peace felt like."
They were silent for a long time.
Only the sound of night insects emerging, and the gentle wind rustling the leaves around them.
The next morning, Zi Yueyan left the house early.
She left a small note on the table:
> "Gone teaching this morning. Don't forget to eat. Don't overthink."
>
Lin Xuan found the note when he woke up. He read it expressionlessly, but the corner of his lips lifted slightly.
On the table, a cup of tea was still steaming warmly.
"This woman..." he muttered. "Always acting as if this house is hers."
But instead of being annoyed, he sat down and slowly sipped the tea.
For some reason, the morning tea tasted different—warmer, more alive.
That night, when Yueyan returned, Lin Xuan was waiting for her outside the house, sitting on the wooden fence, staring at the night sky.
"Were you teaching the Guangming children again?"
"Yes," Yueyan replied. "They're still as noisy as ever."
Lin Xuan nodded slowly. "I saw you from a distance earlier. Your 'Sakura Divine Flash' technique is getting smoother."
Zi Yueyan was slightly surprised. "You... watched me?"
"Occasionally." Lin Xuan looked up at the sky, his tone light. "I wanted to make sure my old friend hadn't lost her touch."
Yueyan gave a small laugh. "You rogue."
Lin Xuan looked at her. For a moment, the world around them was completely silent.
The light from the lantern inside the house reflected a red color in his eyes, while soft shadows played on Yueyan's face.
Under that light, the two were silent.
There were no words of thanks, no promises—but they knew that after so long living in war and secrets, this house was no longer a temporary stop.
It was a place to return to.
💠 And for the first time in a long time, Lin Xuan extinguished the lantern before late night.
Because this time, he knew—someone would light it again tomorrow morning.
The following morning, the air in Longyuan was still damp after the night's rain.
Lin Xuan's courtyard was covered in dew, and the bamboo leaves on the corner of the fence dripped slowly.
Zi Yueyan stood in the middle of the courtyard in her practice clothes—pink and silver, her long black hair tied high.
Her silver sword reflected the morning sun.
Lin Xuan came out of the house, carrying his long sword in its red-and-black sheath. He looked at Yueyan with a flat but meaningful gaze.
"So, you're the one challenging me this morning?"
Zi Yueyan gave a light nod. "It's been a long time since I've seen you move your sword. I want to know if the Imperial Shadow can still match the me of old."
Lin Xuan offered a faint smile. "I never match you. I only remind you how to lose with elegance."
Yueyan gave a small snort. "We'll see about that."
The two stood facing each other.
The wind blew softly, lifting thin dust from the ground.
Yueyan took a deep breath, then slashed forward quickly—Qingguang Jianfa, the divine light movement that was subtle yet sharp.
Her sword was like fluttering sakura petals, dancing in the air in beautiful arcs.
Lin Xuan parried with one light movement, without excessive force.
Each time their swords met, the sound was soft but broke the silence like a whisper.
"Still too much emotion in your movements," Lin Xuan said quietly.
Yueyan glared at him quickly, slightly annoyed. "Is that wrong?"
"Emotion makes your sword beautiful," Lin Xuan replied, turning his body, deflecting the next attack with a movement that was almost silent. "But it also makes it heavy."
Yueyan spun her sword, slashing again quickly—this time harder, sharper, but also... more emotional.
Lin Xuan parried, but on the last move, Yueyan's blade almost touched his shoulder.
Lin Xuan held her blade with two fingers, turning it down.
They stopped just inches apart.
The two stood still—Zi Yueyan's sword was stopped precisely at Lin Xuan's neck, while the tip of Lin Xuan's sword was pressed against Yueyan's chest.
The wind blew between them.
Lin Xuan looked at her for a long time, then said softly, "You're much faster than before."
Yueyan looked back, her breath slightly labored, but her lips curled. "And you... are still holding back."
Lin Xuan slowly withdrew his sword, then sheathed it again.
"Holding back is sometimes harder than winning."
Yueyan lowered her sword but did not immediately move away.
The morning sun touched their faces, and for a moment, everything felt silent—only two people, two breaths, and two hearts trying to guess the right distance between them.
"Lin Xuan."
"Hmm?"
"Have you ever thought about returning to the Guangming Academy?"
Lin Xuan looked at the sky for a moment, then answered softly.
"I don't belong in a place full of light."
Yueyan looked at him, as if wanting to object but restraining herself.
"Then stay here. At least until I can make sure your shadow doesn't leave again without saying goodbye."
Lin Xuan looked at her, his faint red eyes reflecting a barely visible smile.
"Alright. But don't regret it if my house becomes noisier than before."
Yueyan returned his gaze with a small smile—this time a sincere one.
"In that case, let me be the calming noise for that shadow."
💠 The morning breeze blew gently in the backyard.
Two swords leaned against the fence, two shadows moved side-by-side under the rising sunlight—between light and shadow, they were slowly beginning to share the same silence.
The following days passed quietly—too quiet, even for someone like Lin Xuan.
Mornings were filled with the aroma of tea and Zi Yueyan's soft voice teaching the young students who sometimes came to the courtyard to learn basic techniques.
In the afternoon, he sat under the bamboo tree, staring at the sky; in the evening, he accompanied Yueyan practicing her sword or simply stayed in peaceful silence.
However, behind that tranquility, a great wind began to stir from the four corners of Xiyang.
One afternoon, Han Jie rushed to Lin Xuan's house, carrying a scroll from Master Wei.
He saluted quickly, then handed the letter to Zi Yueyan.
"Master Wei has asked you to lead a new mission," he said. "A trade caravan from the east needs escort to Fenghuang city. A few new disciples will also be joining the journey."
Zi Yueyan read quickly, then glanced at Lin Xuan.
"I will leave in two days."
Lin Xuan just nodded. "Fenghuang... a busy but dangerous city. Don't trust anyone there too much."
Yueyan gave a thin smile. "Are you worried about me?"
"No," Lin Xuan answered calmly. "I just don't want my food to be cold when I get back later."
Yueyan gave a small snort, but her eyes were gentle. "In that case, make sure you are still here when I return."
⚔️ In the North – Tianmen Shakes Again
Meanwhile, in the distant north, a gray sky covered the ranks of the Xiyang army.
The Tianmen Fortress, once a witness to bloodshed, was preparing to shake again from the sound of war drums.
General Hwang stood on the wall, his military cloak flapping in the cold wind.
From a distance, he saw a strange light in the fog of the Tianluo mountains—a greenish glow that pulsed like a life force.
"Spirit troops..." he muttered. "So it wasn't just a rumor."
One of his subordinates arrived, breathless.
"General! They don't die even when their bodies are destroyed! Every time they're burned, their spirits return!"
Hwang grasped the hilt of his sword, his eyes sharpening.
"If they cannot die... then we must ensure they cannot move."
The sky of Tianmen shuddered with the sound of thunder, and the war on the border began again—unbeknownst to anyone, from the shadows of the snow, someone was watching him: Mo Xinghai, leader of the Northern Star group from Han.
👑 In the Qin Palace – Political Ripples Begin to Show
In Longyuan, inside the golden palace hall, Prince Zhuang was speaking with his mother, his face calm but full of ambition.
"Mother, if Ying Yue becomes mine, then the line of succession can no longer be disrupted by anyone."
His mother, with a cold smile, caressed the jade necklace around her neck.
"And with that, the Imperial Shadow will also submit to you."
Not far away, Xu Heng stood in the corridor, listening to the conversation from behind the stone wall.
His gaze was sharp, and his lips whispered softly.
"First Shadow... it seems your time in the palace won't last long."
In the southern region, Feng Zhiren and Lu Qing walked along a foggy valley.
They carried the emblem of the Guangming sect towards Beitian village, following an old map to the ruins of a temple where their master's sacred talisman was believed to be hidden.
But halfway through the journey, the thick fog suddenly intensified. From between the trees, a figure with long white hair and yellow eyes slowly emerged—Bai Suyin, the white snake demon, stood on a rock, her gaze sharp.
"Stop right there," her voice was cold like the mountain mist.
"No human is permitted to pass through my territory."
Feng Zhiren slowly drew his sword, staring at her without fear.
"In that case, permit us to pass... by the way of the sword."
The fog swirled—and the duel between the light and the white snake began.
And amidst all this, in a simple house in Longyuan, Lin Xuan looked at the evening sky from his window.
He could feel the change in the air—like a tension that had not yet taken shape.
The wind from the east carried the scent of travel.
The north wind carried the smell of iron and blood.
The west wind carried the whisper of secrets.
And the south wind carried mysterious fog.
"Four directions moving simultaneously..." he muttered softly. "It seems this world doesn't want to give me time to be still for too long."
Outside, the wind blew fiercely, shaking the lantern in front of the house.
Its red light danced on the wall, like the shadow of a horned demon waiting to be summoned back.
The caravan moved slowly along the lowlands road. Carts full of cloth and spices created a rhythm of their own: creaking wheels, snorting horses, the soft chatter of merchants. Among them, two Guangming disciples held spears, guarding the sides; in the front, Han Jie adjusted his horse's pace while chatting lightly with one of the guards.
Zi Yueyan walked beside Han Jie—no longer a disciple, but a designated junior master. Her practice jacket was neat, her silver sword hung at her back, her posture composed. She occasionally checked her master's small folded map, ensuring the routes through the villages were safe and the stopping times regular. There was a resolve on her face that wasn't visible before, but the way she smiled at the disciples made their hearts relax.
"You still like to stare at the clouds while on duty," teased Han Jie, leaning his horse slightly toward her. "If you keep looking at the clouds, who will guard the caravan?"
Zi Yueyan turned her head, giving a faint smile. "If you talk too much, I'm afraid intruders will hear and think we're careless."
Han Jie chuckled. "Hey, I'm just reminiscing about our Group 7 days. Remember Lin Xuan when we first met him? A big lazy bum, but... he had a mysterious side too."
Zi Yueyan raised an eyebrow. "Don't bring up the past, Han Jie. You know he's prone to causing trouble."
"I miss that," Han Jie whispered.
* The city of Fenghuang looked like a painting: wooden houses, colorful clothes drying, and alleys scented with food. The caravan stopped at the bustling outskirt market; merchants haggled, children chased small kites. Zi Yueyan assigned two disciples to guard the carts, then walked to a simple tavern on the edge of the square—a usual stopping place for trade caravans.
The tavern was dim, oil smoke hung in the air, and a few bounty hunters gathered in the corner. At a small table near the bar, a young woman sat alone—her hair was a color somewhere between copper and orange that looked bright under the candle. Her dark blue clothes and equipment were simple: a belt full of pouches, a short sword, and an expression that was difficult to read. At first glance, she looked like an ordinary bounty hunter; yet there was an unusual aura: wary, trained, foreign.
The woman—Han Mei—had just arrived in Fenghuang that afternoon. She heard rumors about a "trade group from Longyuan" passing through, and her instincts immediately piqued.
Longyuan.
That name often appeared in Han intelligence records, always associated with great spiritual power.
Han Mei stared at Zi Yueyan's table for a long time, judging the way she sat, the way she rested her hand on the sword hilt. Too calm for an ordinary trade guard.
Finally, Han Mei stood up and approached.
"Long journey from Longyuan, isn't it?" she said amicably, her tone like someone trying to make small talk, but her eyes sharp with assessment.
Zi Yueyan turned slightly, answering politely, "That's right. We are just passing through."
"From the way you sit," Han Mei said, "you're not a merchant. But your hands aren't like a soldier's. Are you... from a sect?"
Han Jie immediately looked wary. "We don't like being asked that by strangers."
Han Mei raised a hand, smiling faintly. "Relax. I'm just a bounty hunter. My name is Han Mei. I'm looking for someone, maybe someone who passed through Longyuan."
Zi Yueyan looked at her with calm eyes. "Who?"
Han Mei stared into the bottom of her cup. "Someone who wore a red mask. Spilled Han blood five years ago in Tianmen."
The room immediately felt colder.
Han Jie reflexively looked around; a few customers and bounty hunters looked up, but quickly looked back down. Zi Yueyan remained calm, but her voice lowered slightly.
"Red mask? I've never heard that name."
Han Mei looked at her, searching for a sign on Yueyan's face. No lies, only a gentle silence like water.
"Is that so..." she said softly. "You're from Longyuan, but you don't know that legend?"
"I don't care much for legends. I only know this world has enough blood without needing to add old stories."
Han Mei gave a small smile, but there was a flash of bitterness in her eyes. "That's the way people talk who have never lost anyone on the battlefield."
That sentence hit Zi Yueyan like the tip of a sword. She didn't like the way Han Mei spoke—too cold, too arrogant.
"You speak as if you know everything," Yueyan replied softly but firmly. "Yet I can see... your anger is sharper than your sword."
Han Mei stared back. "And you speak as if light can heal anything."
The silence hardened.
Han Jie swallowed. "Ahem, maybe it's better if-"
But both women had already stood up.
No shouting, no threats, just two glances challenging each other amidst the scent of wine and the music of a flute in the background.
Han Mei tapped the table slowly. "I don't want trouble. But I want to know... does everyone from Longyuan speak in that tone, or just you?"
Yueyan looked at her calmly. "Feel free to find out."
A flash of metal broke the air.
Han Mei's sword was out faster than the blink of an eye; Yueyan's sword was already raised even before the black blade slashed.
The first clash made the air in the tavern seem to stop.
The patrons immediately backed away.
Han Mei attacked quickly—her fighting style was like a cold current, flowing but dangerous. Yueyan parried with gentle movements, like a sakura dance in a storm. Two different styles, two worlds: one rooted in spiritual discipline, the other in the hunter's instinct.
Several tables were shattered by the vibrations of their power. Han Jie protected the disciples but dared not interfere.
In one dangerous movement, Han Mei slashed down, her sword almost hitting Yueyan's shoulder—but Yueyan spun, using the momentum, the tip of her sword stopping just inches from Han Mei's neck.
Both stopped.
Time seemed frozen.
Han Mei looked at the silver blade, then smiled. "You're fast. But too careful. In war, that gets you killed."
Yueyan stared back. "And in the real world, being too cruel makes you lonely."
Han Mei gave a small laugh. She lowered her sword slowly. "I like the way you talk. Maybe one day we can talk without swords between us."
Yueyan lowered her sword too. "Perhaps. If you don't point a weapon at me at our first meeting."
Han Mei bowed slightly, then walked away, leaving a cold scent like metal and fog behind her.
When Yueyan sat back down, Han Jie looked at her with a tense face.
"Yueyan... who was she?"
Yueyan shook her head slowly. "I don't know. But from the way she fought... she seemed like she wasn't from Xiyang."
🌙 Midnight, outside the tavern
Yueyan was walking alone when a man with a tired face approached her. He wore a warehouse worker's robe and spoke softly.
"Miss from Guangming... someone entrusted this to you."
He handed her a small scroll, then walked away without another word.
Yueyan opened the scroll under the lantern light.
The writing was in red ink:
> "The trail hasn't faded. Beware of the Star from the North."
>
At the bottom corner of the paper, a small symbol of an inverted five-pointed star, the strokes were fine, like military handiwork from Han.
Yueyan clenched the paper tightly, her eyes hardening.
"The Northern Star?"
Elsewhere, in a dimly lit alley, Han Mei watched from the shadows. She saw the Guangming disciple who was now a teacher, assessing her determination and the secrets she held. In her head, one goal remained alive: to find the trace of the masked man who caused her father's death in Tianmen. She etched that name in her heart like a promise.
* The next morning, when the caravan began to wake up, Han Jie tapped Zi Yueyan's back. "So, are we heading straight back to Longyuan? Or exploring a little more?"
Zi Yueyan opened the message scroll she had hidden. The morning light fell on the red ink, but there was no writer's name. Only one sentence: 'The Shadow is not done. Beware of the star from the north.' In the corner of the paper was a small symbol—a single inverted star.
Zi Yueyan looked at Han Jie, then decided. "We'll continue the journey as planned. But, be more careful. It seems someone is watching our route."
Han Jie nodded, his face serious for a moment. "In that case, let me be the bad guys' nuisance. You focus on guarding the caravan."
As the group moved out of Fenghuang, on a high rooftop, a woman in a hat gave them a small wave—not a farewell, but an indirect promise. Han Mei turned, her eyes revealing a little curiosity, then looked north, as if outlining a map in her head: the hunt was still long.
In the hearts of the two women—Zi Yueyan and Han Mei—something different grew: a sense of wariness for one, a sense of vengeance for the other, both tied to the same shadow. Under the clear eastern sky, the caravan continued its journey, carrying goods and secrets that whispered softly as the wind blew.
Night fell quickly over the city of Fenghuang.
The rain had just stopped, leaving behind the scent of wet earth and the reflection of oil lamps on the stone road.
On one of the old building rooftops, Han Mei sat cross-legged, staring west—toward the location of Longyuan City.
In her hand, a worn piece of paper was open: a rough sketch of a man's face in a red mask.
The corners of her mouth tightened.
"It's been five years," she murmured softly. "And I still haven't found you."
She folded the paper, tucking it back into her inner clothes.
From afar, the city guard's bell rang three times.
It was a sign of the third night since she arrived in Fenghuang.
Time to move.
Han Mei stood up.
Her body was slender, but every step was precise, as if the air itself moved aside to avoid making a sound.
She wore a light black cloak over her hunter clothes, covering the short black sword, Leng Yue (Cold Moon), at her waist.
Under the moonlight, her cold gray-blue eyes gleamed.
Fenghuang city at night was full of shadows—perfect for someone like her.
She moved across the rooftops like a passing wind, then jumped into a narrow alley between two stone buildings.
From below, the sounds of bar music and drunken laughter were faint.
She stopped in front of a seemingly ordinary warehouse, but the guards stood too rigidly.
> "Xiyang information center..." she murmured. "They don't even know Han has planted eyes here."
>
She inhaled, pressing her finger against the wooden wall.
A faint click sounded—a secret door opened, just enough for one person.
Han Mei entered without hesitation.
Inside, the narrow room was full of crates and records.
An old man with squinted eyes narrowed his gaze when he saw Han Mei.
But he immediately bowed.
"Master Han Mei. We have prepared your route to Longyuan. The eastern caravan will depart the day after tomorrow; they don't know that one of their guards is an agent of Han."
Han Mei sat down, taking off her hood.
"Good. And the person I'm looking for?"
The man bowed lower. "Not yet found. But... news from Longyuan is spreading. There is someone called the First Shadow in the Xiyang empire. Many say he is associated with the same man as the red-masked legend five years ago."
Han Mei looked at him sharply, but her tone was calm.
"First Shadow...? Hmm. That sounds like a nickname too neat for someone who should be dead."
"Some reports say this person works directly under the Qin Emperor. An executioner... fast, without a trace."
Han Mei stood up. "Then perhaps I need to see it for myself."
She looked at the large map on the wall—a red line showed the route from Fenghuang to Longyuan.
Her hand traced the map slowly.
"Shen Wuhen in the west, I'm in the east..." she said quietly. "And Mo Xinghai is in the north."
She smiled faintly. "The Three Northern Stars are moving again. The Xiyang Empire should start to fear."
A few days later, the journey to Longyuan began.
The same trade caravan—this time a different group—departed from Fenghuang.
Han Mei disguised herself as a hired guard, wearing simple protective clothing.
No one knew who she really was.
She rarely spoke, only occasionally scolding a horse or checking a load rope.
But at every stopping post, her eyes kept searching—observing people, listening to rumors, looking for a name that was never uttered aloud:
The Red Demon Masked Man.
One afternoon, while stopped in the Tianhe valley, she sat by the riverbank.
The clear water reflected the pale blue sky and her own face.
She pulled a small locket from her pocket—a black dragon carved inside an ice crystal.
The locket once belonged to her father, General Han Qingshu, who died in Tianmen.
Han Mei stared at it for a long time.
> "Father, they call that false hero General Hwang," she whispered.
> "But I know the one who killed you wasn't him. There was someone else there that night... someone with a red mask."
>
She clenched her hand, putting the locket back.
A gentle gust of wind brushed her hair from her face.
And in the distance, she saw something in the sky—a black bird with a red ribbon tied to its leg.
A messenger bird from Han.
Han Mei raised her hand, and the bird perched on her forearm.
She opened the small scroll on its leg.
> "Wuhen is already at Heiyan position.
> Mo Xinghai is moving to Tianmen.
> You, Han Mei, continue to Longyuan.
> Objective: seek information about the First Shadow.
> Do not interact. Do not let your name be mentioned."
>
Han Mei crumpled the paper, then burned it.
"Do not interact? Too late," she said softly.
Because in her mind, Zi Yueyan's face appeared—the sakura-sword girl she met in the Fenghuang bar.
The movements, the discipline, and the way she held her sword—all of it reminded her of someone in the past.
And her heart whispered: "If she is from Longyuan, perhaps... she knows something."
Towards dusk, the caravan approached an old stone bridge leading to Longyuan.
From behind the fog, the city walls began to appear.
Han Mei pulled her hood lower, her face sinking into shadow.
> "Longyuan," she murmured softly.
> "The city of light that hides the darkest shadow in this world."
>
And in the distance, on the other side of the city, someone else looked in the same direction—Lin Xuan, who stood on the roof of his house, watching the evening sun descend.
Two worlds, two hunters, two secrets—beginning to walk on paths that would slowly intersect.
The north wind howled over the Tianmen valley.
The golden dragon flag of the Xiyang Empire fluttered on the fortress walls, while in the distance, the black-and-red banner of Han filled the horizon.
Lightning struck the cloudy sky—as if the heavens knew, the war was not over.
General Hwang stood on the watchtower, his thick military cloak waving in the storm. Beneath him, thousands of Xiyang soldiers prepared in layered formations.
In his hand, a heavy iron sword that bore a name—Tianheng Dao, the sword believed to have killed fifty thousand Han troops in one night.
But he knew, that night, it wasn't his sword that did the killing.
In the distance, a red glow appeared from the Han ranks. A long trumpet blast echoed, and from the fog emerged a tall, muscular figure in black armor—his long hair tipped with fiery red, his eyes as sharp as lightning.
Hei Zhen.
His lightning spear, Lei Ya, sparked with electricity every time it touched the ground.
"General Hwang," his voice was heavy, almost like the rumble of the sky. "We finally meet under the same banner—but on different sides."
Hwang looked ahead, descending the tower stairs, then walking to the front field.
Around him, soldiers bowed to give way. He stopped ten steps in front of Hei Zhen, looking at him without fear.
"If you came to talk about honor, save it. I lost that since the night of Tianmen," he said softly but firmly.
Hei Zhen smiled cynically. "Honor? I came to bring vengeance."
He thrust his spear into the ground, and from its tip, electrical cracks spread, glowing on the wet earth.
"I came to pay for the blood of fifty thousand Han troops who died on this soil. The world calls you the Hero of Tianmen... but I know, you merely stood upon the work of others!"
The voice boomed, making some Xiyang troops shudder.
Hwang slowly raised his sword, its blade shining gray beneath the lightning.
"I never claimed to be a hero. But if you come bringing thunder to my land, I will ensure your lightning is extinguished before it reaches the gate."
The two stood facing each other, two different figures—one like the black sky, the other a firm rock under a rainstorm.
When the war trumpet sounded again, the world exploded in a roar.
The Han army advanced from the valley, forming a spear-shaped line, its tip glowing blue from Hei Zhen's lightning magic.
The Xiyang army held the western side, fire arrows and bolts were released from the towers.
The sky seemed to be on fire—fire and lightning danced in one spectacle.
Hei Zhen rode his horse, his spear raised high, lightning struck from the sky and merged into his weapon.
"Lei Zhen Fa – Black Thunder Technique!"
He charged forward, his entire body enveloped in a lightning aura.
Every swing of his spear left a streak of light splitting the ground.
Hwang parried with his shield and sword, each clash resulting in an air explosion.
When they met in the middle of the field, the entire army stopped breathing. Two great forces collided like war gods descending from the sky.
At close range, Hwang's face was wet with rain, but his eyes remained focused.
"Your spirit energy is too wild," he said softly. "That is not the strength of a human."
Hei Zhen laughed coldly. "You are right. This is the power of the earth dragon that I awakened from lightning and blood! Qianlong Zhishen!"
He thrust his spear into the ground. Black lightning surged into the sky, and from the clouds, a giant lightning dragon appeared—coiling in the sky, roaring until the earth shook.
The Xiyang troops screamed in panic, but Hwang did not flinch.
He stared at the dragon with a vacant look, as if seeing the past—the same night of Tianmen, the blood, and the red-masked man who slaughtered silently.
"So this is what you call Han honor... spirits awakened with rage," he muttered.
He took a deep breath, then shouted,
"Golden Chakra Formation – activate!"
From the fortress, a massive golden light radiated into the sky, forming a protective dome.
Hei Zhen's lightning dragon struck it hard, but was repelled—light clashed with lightning, the sound of explosions shaking the valley.
Hwang leaped forward, cutting through the electrical field, slashing straight at Hei Zhen.
The two forces met again, harder, heavier, and this time... even the earth trembled.
The battle lasted until night.
Lightning burned the sky, fire raged on the frozen plain.
Both generals stood equally wounded, but neither would retreat.
Amidst the sound of war, Hei Zhen panted, but still laughed.
"You are strong, Hwang... but I know—you were not the slaughterer of Tianmen that night!"
Hwang looked at him sharply. "Then?"
Hei Zhen held his chest wound, blood flowing. "The red-masked man... he slaughtered us! You only arrived the next morning, claiming a hero's title from our blood!"
Before Hwang could ask, Hei Zhen spun, plunging his spear into the ground, and a massive lightning strike separated them.
When the light subsided, Hei Zhen's body had vanished—only scorched earth and a flash of electric current remained in the air.
Hwang stood in the middle of the ruined battlefield, his eyes empty, staring at the dark sky.
The rain fell heavier, accompanied by roaring thunder.
That night, in the main tent, Hwang sat quietly in front of a large map.
His troops were still putting out fires outside, but his mind wasn't there.
He remembered every word of Hei Zhen.
Then slowly, he gripped his sword and whispered:
"If that man is truly alive... then this world does not yet know who the real hero of Tianmen is."
The morning wind in Longyuan carried news of war from the north.
In the palace courtyard, white flags were flown at half-mast—a sign of mourning for the fallen Tianmen soldiers.
Princess Ying Yue stood on the balcony of the east pavilion, looking at the fog-covered sky. Her black hair was loosely tied, her soft blue dress blowing in the wind.
She clenched a letter in her hand—the official report from the north:
> "Tianmen Fortress was successfully defended. However, General Hwang was seriously wounded. The enemy known as the 'Black Lightning Spear' disappeared in the storm."
>
Ying Yue read softly, but her eyes narrowed.
She knew, behind those diplomatic sentences, something was left unsaid.
"Princess," a soft voice came from behind. It was Xu Heng, the chief imperial advisor. "The Emperor wishes to see you this afternoon. There is an important discussion about the position of the First Shadow."
Ying Yue turned quickly. "The First Shadow? Lin Xuan?"
Xu Heng bowed lightly. "He has received a new command. But... rumors are starting to spread that his presence in the palace is unsettling some factions."
In the private training room at the western residence, Lin Xuan looked at his reflection in the pond water.
He wore red-and-black practice clothes, his sword leaning against a rock.
Around him, bamboo leaves were falling.
"Your attack is too light," he said flatly.
Princess Ying Yue, who was practicing in front of him, glared. "You call it light, yet you just deflected my attack without moving your sword!"
"Precisely because of that," Lin Xuan replied calmly. "Your sword is still hesitant. You want to hurt, but you fear the consequence."
Ying Yue fell silent, then lowered her sword. "You always speak like a shadow. Do you never feel wrong when you kill someone, Lin Xuan?"
Lin Xuan looked up at the sky. "Right and wrong are just two sides of a coin flipped by the ruler."
He looked at her again, gently this time. "But if you want to know... yes. Every time blood drips from my sword, a small part of me dies with it."
The atmosphere was silent. Only the wind passed between them.
In the afternoon, the Qin palace throne room was filled with high-ranking officials.
Emperor Qin sat on his throne, his face firm but his eyes held worry.
Beside him stood Prince Zhuang, his cousin Ying Yue—a man with a polite smile but eyes as sharp as a snake.
Xu Heng gave his report. "Tianmen Fortress is safe. However, the Han empire has begun using spirit soldiers. We suspect... this is not just ordinary war magic. The hand of the Northern Star group is involved."
The Emperor nodded slowly. "And what about the First Shadow?"
Xu Heng looked at Lin Xuan, who stood silently in the center of the hall, expressionless.
"He has received a new mission, Your Majesty. To investigate the possibility of Han infiltration in Longyuan city."
Prince Zhuang smiled faintly. "The First Shadow in the heart of the palace? Isn't that excessive, Lord Xu? Wouldn't his duty be more suited to the battlefield?"
Xu Heng glared, but before he could answer, the Emperor said, "It is precisely in the palace that the darkest shadows hide."
Lin Xuan bowed slightly. "I will do so without leaving a trace."
That night, in the palace backyard garden, Ying Yue waited for Lin Xuan.
Oil lamps swung gently, reflecting light onto her serene face.
"So you will investigate the palace?" she asked softly. "What exactly are you looking for, Lin Xuan?"
Lin Xuan looked toward the palace tower looming in the distance.
"Someone once told me... the truth always hides among the shadows of power. Now I want to know, whose shadow I am truly pursuing."
Ying Yue looked down. "And if what you find... is yourself?"
Lin Xuan smiled faintly. "Then I will stare at it until it stops staring back at me."
The morning fog descended on the Qin palace courtyard.
Dew still clung to the plum leaves, but the atmosphere was no longer calm.
In the central room, Emperor Qin sat with a gloomy face, re-reading the bloody letter from the north.
The red ink had faded, but one sentence on it still burned his mind:
"The red-masked man... is still alive."
Xu Heng stood beside him, kneeling with his head bowed.
"Your Majesty, I have re-examined all the records of the soldiers involved in Tianmen five years ago. Not one reported the presence of a 'masked man' after that night. But if General Hwang's words are true... then this is not ordinary news."
The Emperor stared sharply. "General Hwang does not write a letter in his own blood lightly."
He sighed. "If that demon is truly alive, it means Tianmen was not a victory... but a bloody debt yet to be paid."
Xu Heng bowed deeper.
But before he could speak again, the sound of soft footsteps was heard outside the hall.
"Your Majesty," a soft but authoritative voice sounded. "Princess Ying Yue and Prince Zhuang have arrived."
The Emperor signaled. "Let them in."
The large doors opened.
Princess Ying Yue stepped in in a patterned black dress, her face serene, her eyes sharp like a full moon behind clouds.
Beside her walked Prince Zhuang, wearing a black robe lined with red—his smile polite, but full of calculation.
The Emperor looked at them for a long time.
"The war in the north is over. But I cannot rest easy," he said slowly. "Both of you must prepare. The Han Empire will not stop with this single defeat."
Prince Zhuang bowed respectfully. "Your Majesty, I have prepared diplomatic envoys for the western border. But in my opinion, the real problem is not Han... but the traitors within the palace itself."
Xu Heng glared at him. "Traitors?"
Prince Zhuang turned. "News from the northern army spreads quickly. Some nobles are beginning to doubt the loyalty of the First Shadow. They say... he knows something about the incident at Tianmen that must not be made public."
The room fell silent.
The Emperor stared at him sharply. "You dare accuse my own executioner?"
Prince Zhuang bowed. "I am not accusing, Your Majesty. I am merely conveying the concerns of the ministers. The First Shadow is too powerful... too mysterious. Even I did not know his name before he stood in this throne room."
Ying Yue looked at her cousin sharply. "You speak as if you know much about the secrets of the palace, Prince Zhuang."
Zhuang smiled gently. "You are too gentle, my sister. This world cannot be protected with only a good heart and a beautiful sword."
Emperor Qin raised a hand. "Enough. I will not judge based solely on rumors. Xu Heng—order the First Shadow to investigate who is spreading this slander. If he is indeed guilty, I will know. If not... then the one who slandered him will pay with blood."
Xu Heng bowed deeply. "Yes, Your Majesty."
That night, in the palace backyard garden, Ying Yue waited for Lin Xuan.
Oil lamps swung gently, reflecting light onto her tranquil face.
She looked at the pond in front of her, where the reflection of the moon and her own face merged.
"Lin Xuan..." she whispered softly. "Do you know they are starting to talk about you in the throne room?"
Soft footsteps were heard behind her.
Lin Xuan stood under the lantern light, wearing a thin black robe, his face partially covered by the shadows of the leaves.
"I already know," he said flatly. "Rumors always travel faster than the truth."
Ying Yue turned quickly. "You know, but you remain silent? They can make you a scapegoat at any time!"
Lin Xuan smiled faintly. "If I am busy refuting every lie, I won't have time to expose who sowed them."
He stepped closer. "You shouldn't worry about me, Princess. But those who use my name to cover up their own sins."
Ying Yue looked at him for a long time. "You talk as if you already know the culprit."
Lin Xuan looked towards the west tower—Prince Zhuang's family residence.
"Not the culprit," he said softly. "But the shadow behind the culprit. Someone who moves the pieces from behind the palace walls."
Ying Yue sighed. "You are too calm, Lin Xuan. As if all this is a game."
Lin Xuan looked at her gently. "If it were not a game, then this world would have stopped turning long ago."
The next day, the inner hall of the palace was filled with rumors.
Servants whispered, ministers suspected each other, and from a distance, Xu Heng walked quickly carrying a new report from intelligence in the north.
He approached the Emperor, breathing heavily.
"Your Majesty, we found the same symbol as in the red letter received by Master Wei from Longyuan—the inverted star symbol."
The Emperor squinted. "The Northern Star... so it is true. Han is starting to infiltrate our territory."
Xu Heng looked at him seriously. "And according to the latest report, one of them... is already in Longyuan."
The Emperor stared at the large map in front of him.
"In that case, assign the First Shadow. Tell him to find the source."
His eyes narrowed. "But make sure he does not attract the attention of Prince Zhuang."
Xu Heng bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty. But... what should I do if the rumors about the First Shadow continue to be spread in the palace?"
The Emperor stood, looking out the window.
"Let them talk," he said coldly. "Because when the shadow begins to speak... the light will reveal the face of the one hiding behind it."
That night, Princess Lian Hua, Ying Yue's younger sister, quietly slipped into the west corridor.
She saw Prince Zhuang meeting someone. The person was not a Xiyang official... but wore a black cloak with a star emblem on the belt.
Princess Lian Hua immediately went to her sister, Princess Ying Yue's chamber, to report this.
The rain had just stopped that night. Residual water dripped from the jade eaves, falling into the lotus pond in the inner courtyard.
In the distance, the gray sky reflected the light of the palace lanterns—calm on the outside, but full of whispers within.
Princess Ying Yue sat in her quiet reading room.
She had just finished reading Xu Heng's report on the northern border—but her mind was not on the war. Since morning, she felt something change in the palace. The normally cheerful servants were quieter now. The eunuchs walked with cautious steps. And from the direction of the east pavilion, rumors about Prince Zhuang began to circulate.
The sound of small footsteps was heard in the outer corridor—quick, nervous, and light like the steps of someone who didn't want to be heard.
The sliding door opened gently.
"Jie-jie..." the soft voice called out.
Ying Yue turned her head. "Lian Hua?"
The young princess stood at the doorway, her hair slightly wet, her breathing uneven. She wore a thin, pale purple sleeping robe, clearly having come in a hurry.
"Why are you out of your pavilion at this hour? What happened?" Ying Yue asked, getting up and approaching her.
Lian Hua bit her lip before answering.
"I... heard something, and I must tell you right now. It's about Brother Zhuang."
Ying Yue froze for a moment, but her voice remained calm. "Come in first. Speak inside."
Lian Hua sat down opposite her sister. She looked at the lantern on the table before speaking in a low, almost whispering voice.
"Last night I passed by the west corridor, the pavilion near the backyard garden. I saw someone leave Prince Zhuang's room."
"A servant?"
Lian Hua shook her head. "No. The person was dressed like a foreign official. But what made me certain... their belt. There was an emblem on it, shaped like a star, but inverted. I didn't see it wrong."
The room became silent.
Ying Yue looked at her sister for a long time, her eyes slowly turning cold.
"An inverted star..." she muttered. "That is the same symbol as Xu Heng's report from Longyuan—the 'Northern Star' emblem of Han."
Lian Hua looked down, her hands tightly gripping the lap of her robe. "Jie-jie... if that person is truly Han, why would they be leaving Prince Zhuang's room?"
Ying Yue stood up, walking to the window. Drizzle started again, falling softly on the plum leaves.
"Because the politics in this palace are rotten," she said softly. "And someone is playing too close to the fire."
Lian Hua looked at her sister fearfully. "But... Mother doesn't know about this, does she? Mother surely—"
Ying Yue cut her off softly. "Don't tell Mother yet. If this is true, it means her own aunt is dragging Han into the palace. Mother will be furious... and that could fracture the palace."
A long silence enveloped them.
Lian Hua looked at her sister. "Then what will you do?"
Ying Yue looked out the window, her eyes sharp but sad. "I will confirm the truth. But I cannot trust anyone in this palace."
She looked at the lantern on the table—a small light trembling among the shadows.
"Tomorrow night, I will summon someone from outside the palace circle. Someone who is not subject to blood or title."
Lian Hua looked at her confusedly. "You mean...?"
Ying Yue looked at her sister and smiled faintly, but her eyes reflected a cold gleam.
"Father's Shadow. Lin Xuan."
The sky of Longyuan was covered with thin clouds.
Hundreds of small lanterns hung in the imperial garden, reflecting a soft light onto the surface of the pond decorated with white lotus flowers.
The night air was humid, mixed with the fragrance of blooming plum blossoms—a secret place for those who wanted to speak without witnesses.
On the edge of the stone bridge, Princess Ying Yue stood alone.
The night wind played with the ends of her hair, but her eyes did not look at the moon—but at the shadows between the trees.
"Lin Xuan," she said softly.
From the darkness, quiet footsteps were heard.
A man emerged without a sound—his black-and-red robe blended with the night, his belt glinting faintly from the reflection of the water.
He stopped a few steps in front of her, bowing slightly.
"The Princess calls at a time like this... it must not be to enjoy the view."
Ying Yue looked at him without smiling. "Can you still be so cold knowing what is happening in this palace?"
Lin Xuan did not answer immediately. He just walked slowly to the side of the bridge, looking at the pond.
The lantern light reflected in his faint red eyes.
"I know enough," he said flatly. "About the rumors in the throne room. About someone who is starting to mention my name in ministerial meetings. About... Prince Zhuang."
That name made the air around them feel tense.
Ying Yue gripped her shawl tighter. "You know?"
Lin Xuan turned, looking straight at her. "I know he is not just ambitious. But also not working alone."
Ying Yue took a deep breath. "Last night my sister saw someone leave Zhuang's room. That person wore a belt with a star emblem. An emblem from Han."
Lin Xuan was not surprised. He merely closed his eyes for a moment, then said,
"The Northern Star."
"So it is true," Ying Yue whispered. "Han has entered the palace."
Lin Xuan nodded slowly. "And they did not come just to spy. They want to plant influence. If Han blood mixes with imperial blood..."
"...then they will have a reason to claim the Xiyang throne," Ying Yue finished, her voice trembling but firm.
Lin Xuan looked at her for a long time, then said softly,
"You must not show that you know, Princess. Your aunt, Princess Liang, will not stand still if she feels suspected. Zhuang is more dangerous than he appears—he smiles in front, but behind him stand the hands of Han."
Ying Yue looked at him with clear but determined eyes. "Then what should I do? Stay silent? Wait until they make my marriage a political tool?"
Lin Xuan turned away from her gaze, his voice heavy. "Sometimes silence is the sharpest weapon, Princess. But... that doesn't mean you have to be alone."
The night wind blew, carrying the scent of plum blossoms between them.
The lantern light danced on the water's surface, creating the shadows of two figures—one clad in silk, one clad in darkness.
Ying Yue stepped closer. "You... will help me, won't you?"
Lin Xuan looked at her. A faint smile appeared on his lips, but his eyes remained cold.
"A shadow does not choose sides, Princess. But it knows which light is worth protecting."
Ying Yue was silent. For a moment, only the sound of the water ripples was heard.
She bowed slightly, looking at their reflection on the surface of the pond.
"In that case," she said softly, "let that light ask you to stay by my side... at least until the other shadows appear."
Lin Xuan did not answer. He just looked at the moon, which was half covered by clouds.
Then with slow steps, he walked away, letting the sound of his boots fade on the wet stone path.
Before he completely disappeared, his voice was heard—flat, yet weighty:
"If Prince Zhuang is truly conspiring with Han... then the first blood spilled in this palace will not come from the north, but from within its own walls."
Ying Yue looked in the direction Lin Xuan had left.
In the pond, the reflection of the lantern shook from a gust of wind—like a secret trembling beneath the water's surface.
And that night, under the dark sky of Xiyang, light and shadow once again walked side-by-side—
unaware that their steps had just begun a new chapter of the game of thrones more dangerous than any war in the north.