The wind howled through the narrow ravine as two cloaked figures made their way across the mountain pass.
Xiao Mo's breath fogged in the frigid air, the scroll strapped tightly to his back. Each step away from the capital made his heart beat faster—not just from fear, but from something deeper. The feeling of being pulled. Drawn by threads older than memory.
Sijun rode just ahead, his hand never far from the hilt of his sword. His dark hair was tied back, his expression unreadable in the moonlight. Behind them, the sound of hooves echoed faintly—too faint for an ordinary ear.
"They're tracking us," Xiao Mo murmured.
"I know," Sijun replied, eyes sharp. "Three riders. Maybe more."
"Can we outrun them?"
"No. But we don't need to."
—
By dawn, they reached the cliffs that overlooked the ruins of the Sun-Marked Palace.
What was once a monument to divine ambition was now a husk. Stone towers had collapsed into thickets of brambles. Burned banners lay buried in ash. The air tasted of smoke, even centuries later.
Xiao Mo stood at the edge of the path, the scroll pulsing against his back.
"This is where it happened," he whispered. "In my past life… I condemned an emperor here."
Sijun looked at him carefully. "Condemned?"
"I told him the truth of the scrolls. That power wasn't meant to be owned. He refused to listen. So I sealed one inside his tomb—bound it in memory and silence."
Sijun dismounted, offering Xiao Mo his hand. "Then we unseal it."
—
They descended into the heart of the ruins, following invisible threads of qi and memory. Xiao Mo's footsteps grew slower the deeper they went, as if the earth resisted him.
At the base of a collapsed tower, they found the remains of an altar—now just cracked stone covered in moss. Beneath it, a narrow staircase spiraled down into darkness.
"The tomb," Xiao Mo said. "It's here."
They lit a lantern and entered.
—
The tomb reeked of sorrow.
Gold leaf peeled from the walls. The corpse of a forgotten emperor lay untouched in his sarcophagus, crowned with a jagged headdress that pulsed faintly with dark energy.
The scroll fragment floated above it—bound in chains of ink and blood.
"Trap?" Sijun asked, drawing his blade.
"Yes," Xiao Mo said. "For me."
He stepped forward—and the air screamed.
The chains whipped to life, lashing toward his throat.
Sijun moved faster.
Steel met ink with a crack of sound, slicing one tendril in half before the others surged forward. Xiao Mo raised his hand, summoning the memory-bound power of the second scroll.
The chains hesitated.
Then recoiled.
A single phrase echoed in the chamber: "Truth may enter. Lies will be burned."
And just like that, the chains fell limp, clattering to the floor.
The scroll hovered, trembling—then slowly descended into Xiao Mo's outstretched hand.
The moment it touched him, a vision burst behind his eyes:
---
The Emperor kneeling before Mo Tianxian, begging for immortality. Tianxian's voice, cold and quiet: "What is eternal must be earned. Not stolen."
A flash of betrayal.
An army marching on the Archive.
Fire. Screaming.
And then—Tianxian's hand carving a seal into the tombstone with blood and will.
"Let this greed remain buried."
---
Xiao Mo staggered.
Sijun caught him again, holding him tightly against his chest. "You're shaking."
"It's too much," Xiao Mo said. "I'm remembering too much. I'm not just Xiao Mo anymore—I'm becoming him."
Sijun didn't let go.
"Then let me share the weight."
And for a moment, Xiao Mo allowed himself to lean into that warmth. That safety.
"I'm afraid, Sijun."
"I know."
"If I forget who I am—"
"I'll remind you."
—
But comfort could only last so long.
A noise echoed up the stairwell—boots on stone.
Sijun stood, sword ready. "Time's up."
Three imperial assassins emerged from the shadows. Black robes. Silver blades.
"Hand over the scroll," the leader said. "You were warned."
Xiao Mo stepped forward. "This doesn't belong to the Empire."
"It belongs to stability. You threaten that."
Sijun didn't wait.
He moved like wind, blade flashing.
The tomb became chaos—steel against steel, magic crackling in the air as Xiao Mo called the second scroll to his defense. One assassin fell to fire. Another to steel.
The last turned to flee—but Xiao Mo reached out with trembling fingers, and the scroll obeyed.
A wave of light surged.
The man dropped, unconscious—untouched by blade, but buried in memory so deep he'd sleep for days.
—
When it was over, Xiao Mo sank to his knees.
Sijun crouched beside him, bruised but alive. "They'll send more."
"I know," Xiao Mo whispered. "And the closer we get to the scrolls, the more dangerous it will become."
Sijun looked at him. "Then we don't stop."
Xiao Mo met his gaze.
And smiled.
"No. We begin."
—
Far away, in the Imperial Court, the Chancellor read the report from the assassins.
His smile faded.
"So the boy has awakened the second. And the third…"
He turned to the sealed scroll on his shelf.
"No matter. The Keeper cannot escape his destiny."
He walked to the window, watching the red sun rise over the city.
"Because I remember what he did. And this time, he will not undo me."
______
A General's Letter
To my grandson, Yuan Sijun—
If you are reading this, then I have either gone to war one final time or vanished behind the walls of silence that swallow old soldiers. This letter, I pray, finds you with a steadier heart than mine.
I write not as your general, nor as your elder, but as a man who once believed loyalty alone was enough to shape the world.
I was wrong.
I have watched you grow—brilliant, steadfast, reckless in the ways youth allows—and I see in you something I lost long ago: belief. Not in flags or thrones. But in people. In something… unshakable. Something I once thought foolish.
When your father died on the northern front, I told myself we would harden you like steel. That softness was weakness. That emotion would be your undoing.
But I watched you kneel beside your injured soldiers with hands shaking, refusing to leave them even as arrows fell. I saw the way you carried that orphaned child in your arms after the siege of Huai River. You disobeyed direct orders—and saved forty lives.
You reminded me that love, too, is a form of courage.
Now, I hear rumors. That you are tied to a boy from the Mo family. That you guard him like treasure, shadow him like a sworn blade. That your gaze turns warm when it finds him. And I think, perhaps, for the first time since the war claimed your father, I understand.
You have chosen something beyond power.
You have chosen someone who makes you feel.
And that… frightens the court.
Because when love and wisdom unite, they cannot be ruled.
I write to you now because I fear for what the court may do to him—and to you. Chancellor Li Weiyuan is not a man to underestimate. He once stood among the monks who spoke of prophecy and scrolls. He knows more than he lets on.
He fears that boy not for his weakness—but for his memory.
You must protect him.
Not just from swords or politics—but from himself. Because power tied to grief becomes dangerous. And if what the whispers say is true—that the Mo boy holds pieces of the Forbidden Scrolls—then he is walking into a fire meant to consume entire dynasties.
You may be the only one who can hold him back from the edge.
But remember this, Sijun:
Do not lose yourself in his shadow.
Even the Keeper needs someone who shines with his own light.
Be that light.
And when the time comes… if you must choose between obedience and love—
Choose love.
The Empire has no use for another obedient blade.
It needs a man brave enough to protect something sacred.
And sometimes, that sacred thing… is a single soul.
Yours in blood and battle,
General Yuan Shen
—
The letter was never delivered.
Sealed in lacquered wood and placed beneath a false floor tile, it waited.
And one day, when Yuan Sijun returned to the estate—alone, weary, and unsure—it would be found.
And it would change everything.
—