Dawn crept slowly over the Jun Clan estate, washing the bloodstained stones in pale gold. Birds chirped timidly, as though unsure if peace had truly returned to the grounds. Jun Mo Xie stood at the edge of the central courtyard, watching the horizon through narrowed eyes.
A servant brought him tea. He took it silently. The world had shifted beneath his feet, and though he had survived the storm, the winds had only begun to howl.
Inside the inner halls, Yue Ling and Mei Yun stood in quiet conversation.
"She's not like us," Yue Ling said, arms crossed.
"She doesn't need to be," Mei Yun replied. "She carries something heavier than training or bloodline."
"What?"
"Memory."
They turned as Jun Mo Xie entered. His presence drew silence like a blade drew blood. He studied them both, nodded, and moved on.
---
Beyond the estate, in the dense pine forests where the Jun Clan's influence thinned, a caravan creaked along an old hunting path. Guards in bronze armor flanked a lacquered carriage pulled by moon-grey horses. A woman sat within, her gaze distant.
"Lady Fei Yan," one guard called, "we're approaching the southern gate."
She didn't respond immediately. Her thoughts were elsewhere—on the vision she had received two nights prior. A name had come to her in a whisper carried by celestial wind:
**Jun Mo Xie.**
Not a stranger to prophecy, Fei Yan had prepared. She had left her mountain palace with little more than her blades and her pride.
Her hand moved to the twin daggers at her waist, curved like crescent moons, and engraved with sacred runes. The wind shifted. She looked up.
"I feel it," she murmured. "This is where it begins."
---
Back at the estate, Jun Mo Xie met with Elder Bai in the Jade Archive.
"There are inquiries from the outer sects," she said, flipping through sealed scrolls. "Some want alliances. Others demand explanations."
"Let them wait," he said.
"That's a luxury we don't have."
He stepped closer, his voice low. "And if we move too soon, they'll smell desperation. I want them unsure. Curious. Afraid."
Elder Bai gave a rare smile. "You're learning the politics of power."
"I prefer the power of silence."
She chuckled. "That, too, is a blade."
---
By midday, the caravan reached the southern gate. The guards at the post straightened when they saw the approaching banner: a silver phoenix against a field of midnight blue.
One ran ahead to inform the household. When Jun Mo Xie arrived at the gate, Fei Yan was already stepping from her carriage. She wore traveling robes, but carried herself like a noble.
Their eyes met.
"You are Jun Mo Xie?" she asked.
"I am."
"I dreamed of your death," she said plainly. "And of your return."
"Which was more vivid?"
She considered. "Neither. Both felt real."
He studied her—sharp eyes, commanding aura, and the daggers at her hips. She had the poise of a killer and the calm of a priestess.
"You've come a long way," he said.
"I go where the wind of fate leads."
He smirked. "Fate seems to like sending women my way."
She raised a brow. "Perhaps fate thinks you'll need them."
He motioned for her to follow. "Come. Let's see if the stars sent you as an ally... or a test."
---
Later that evening, the estate buzzed with whispers. Three women now surrounded the once-disgraced heir—each mysterious, each powerful, each bound to him by threadbare fate and silent intent.
In the training courtyard, Mei Yun faced Fei Yan across the polished stone tiles. Neither spoke at first.
"You trained with the Wind Claw sect," Mei Yun said eventually.
Fei Yan nodded. "You studied at Cloudfall."
"You've killed."
"So have you."
Jun Mo Xie leaned against a pillar nearby, watching.
Fei Yan moved first. A blur of green silk and silver steel. Mei Yun countered with a single step and raised palm, redirecting the blow. Sparks flew. Their clash was short—three strikes, no clear victor.
Fei Yan stepped back. "I didn't come to fight."
Mei Yun lowered her stance. "But you wanted to measure."
"We all do."
They bowed to each other. Not as rivals, but as women who understood what power looked like—in themselves and in one another.
Jun Mo Xie smiled to himself. "Good," he muttered. "No weak flames around me."
---
That night, he gathered them all—Yue Ling, Mei Yun, Fei Yan, and the quiet Lan Xue—around a single scroll.
"It's time you saw this," he said, unrolling it. It revealed a map—ancient, scarred, marked with symbols of war and prophecy.
"This," he pointed, "is where the southern sects are gathering. This here is where I was nearly killed. And here..." he tapped a mountain range near the coast, "...is where something is awakening."
Fei Yan leaned closer. "Something?"
"I don't know what. But I've heard its name in whispers: *The Obsidian Gate.*"
Lan Xue shivered.
"It's tied to everything," he continued. "My return. The war between branches. Even you four."
Yue Ling's eyes narrowed. "You think we were drawn to you... because of that?"
"I don't think. I feel it. And feelings in this world are rarely wrong."
He looked at them—each one bearing her past, her scars, her hidden truths.
"I won't ask you to follow me blindly. But I'll tell you this—if we don't move first, others will move for us."
Mei Yun crossed her arms. "Then let's move."
Fei Yan nodded. "What's your plan?"
He grinned. "Simple. We stop hiding. And we start hunting."
Outside, the wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of war.
And far beyond the estate walls, a dark figure in
crimson robes opened his eyes.
"The Monarch returns," he said, voice like cracked earth.
"Let the world tremble."
---
*To be continued...*