RamAt Imperial Palace, Crimson Sky Empire – Morning of the Storm,
The sky above the capital brooded with veils of slate gray, thunderheads swollen like drums of fate. Inside the crystalline tower of the Inner Court, its translucent walls glimmered with shifting auras as spells of secrecy sealed the chamber shut. No eunuch, no guard, not even the wind was allowed entry once the ward sigils burned crimson.
The Emperor sat upon the Dragonsteel Dais.
Dongfang Tianyi's presence loomed like a coiled tempest—unreadable eyes beneath a golden crown, his brocade robes embroidered with phoenix fire and divine lions. On his left, Qu Yuheng, the hunched court diviner, muttered over a rotating sphere of constellations hovering above a bronze basin.
This was no ordinary court session.
Closed-door. Absolute silence. No scribes, no recorders.
The topic: The Kun Island Incident—the false-flag attack that had rattled the empire.
"The residents of the town were burned alive," growled Grand Marshal Duan Zhengxiong, pounding a fist on the table. "And the survivors cry out the name of Mengtian's alliance! What clearer sign of rebellion do you need?"
"And yet the evidence is too perfect," said Xie Zhongwen, the silver-bearded Prime Minister. "Too clean. It stinks of manipulation."
A cold voice cut through the argument.
"The stars," intoned Qu Yuheng, the court's chief astrologer and diviner, his pale fingers tracing the air, "no longer favor order. A storm coils around Kun Island. A civil reckoning looms. The stars whisper of division," Qu murmured. "A civil storm brews in silence, Your Majesty. If it breaks, not even heaven's decree will bind the flame."
The words hung heavy in the chamber.
Dongfang Tianyi, robed in indigo and gold, spoke at last, his voice smooth but edged with steel.
"Then we must decide," he said. "Will the empire wait for the fire to burn to our gates, or shall we snuff it now?"
A long silence. And then the princes spoke.
Dongfang Ruixian, the Third Prince, rose with imperial grace.
"Father, I propose we open formal investigations. If Mengtian is guilty, let him face judgment. But if the clans manipulated this attack, then they seek to fragment your empire beneath false loyalty."
Across the table, Dongfang Zihan, the Crown Prince, sneered.
"You defend him too quickly, brother. Mengtian raises a private alliance, trains warriors beyond your reach, and hides weapons behind banners of unity. He smells of insurrection."
Crown Prince Dongfang Haoran's eyes burned. "And you hide behind paranoia. Who profits from disorder? The Compact. Not Mengtian." He scoffed and stepped forward. "Let it come. If Mengtian and his rabble want chaos, we'll give them iron and flame. We are the throne."
The Third Prince, Dongfang Ruixian, folded his arms with graceful restraint. "And if your iron triggers civil collapse? If the court loses control of Kun Island entirely? The empire teeters not because of Mengtian—but because of fear-driven reaction."
The air tightened. Even Emperor Tianyi's knuckles whitened upon the dragon armrest.
Dongfang Tianyi slammed his palm against the table, silencing them all.
"Enough. This is not a squabble over inheritance. This is the fate of an empire," the Emperor said, voice like thunder tamed.
He turned to Shen Guancheng, his silent shadow. "Send word. The court reconvenes at The White Whisper Pavilion in seven days with proof of Mengtian's complicity or proof of innocence, and I want independent eyes on the clans. Also, summon the envoy from Tianzhen City. Let them speak. Nothing else."
While at Tianzhen City,
Su Mengtian dispatches Lan Qiu (Hallmaster of Tempests) and Yue Mei (Hallmaster of the Luminous Veil) as envoys to the capital. Ostensibly, they are there to provide testimony on the Kun Island Incident. Secretly, their mission is threefold:
First, plant disinformation through palace informants about the Imperial Restoration Compact.
Second, covertly sway moderate factions of the court (especially Han Teijun and Wei Changrui) to neutrality or passive support.
Third, meet with Yueying's aunt, Bai Qinglan, who has hidden connections within the royal staff.
After reaching Crimson Sky Capital – at The Eastern Embassy Wing – Twilight,
Lan Qiu, Hallmaster of Tempests, leaned against a jade-carved pillar, her eyes tracing the swirl of clouds through the open veranda. Beneath his robe's flowing layers, whispers of breeze curled like serpents around her ankles.
Yue Mei, resplendent in silver robes stitched with veils of illusion thread, stood beside him as a court attendant passed.
"He didn't see you," she said softly.
"I made sure of it," Lan Qiu replied. "What did the librarian say?"
"Qi Jianru—the deputy archivist—claims that House Feng's records have been scrubbed. Redacted under direct order from Shen Guancheng."
Lan Qiu's lips curved. "Which means they're hiding something… or preparing to rewrite history."
Yue Mei held out a folded parchment. "This is the fragment I smuggled from the second tier vault. Feng Huoxian petitioned for preemptive martial orders two weeks before the Kun Island Incident."
Lan Qiu's fingers crackled with faint lightning as he read. "They moved before the false flag. Arrogant."
Yue Mei added, "We'll need to intercept the imperial scholars before they're fed a version of truth. I've summoned three ink-scribes from the Outer Academy. They're already loyal to our cause."
"Good," Lan Qiu said. "By the time the Emperor's next court convenes, let him choke on paper and truth."
She looked at him. "And if the Compact tries to silence them?"
Lan Qiu's smile faded. "Then the Hall of Tempests will turn ink into thunder."
One Day Later – The Imperial Gardens,
Amid moonlit lotus ponds and towering whitebark trees, Lan Qiu, Hallmaster of Tempests, and Yue Mei, Hallmaster of the Luminous Veil, were led into the gardens by eunuchs in imperial white. The two emissaries walked side by side, veiled under silencing spells.
Lan Qiu's storm-pale hair shifted like wind-touched snow. Yue Mei's robes shimmered with illusion runes, reflecting stars that didn't exist.
Their audience: Empress Wei Zixuan and Princess Dongfang Zhenyao.
"Speak quickly," the Empress said. "And carefully. The palace has ears you cannot see."
Lan Qiu bowed. "Then let my words strike as thunder. The attack was staged. Your Majesty, we have names, routes, forged seals, and shadow couriers. The Shi and Feng clans orchestrated it."
Wei Zixuan's eyes narrowed. "And your proof?"
Yue Mei stepped forward, unfolding a crystalline sigil.
"Encoded records from a compromised Shi courier, verified by Kai Chan of Echoes. We have more. A Tang strategist was blackmailed into creating the fake communications that named Mengtian."
Zhenyao looked between them, then asked softly, "And what does Mengtian intend now?"
Yue Mei's lips curved faintly. "He prepares Operation Veilburst."
The Empress blinked. "That sounds like war."
"No," said Lan Qiu. "It sounds like truth, weaponized."
Elsewhere, at a Room of Heavenly Soul Palace – Tianzhen City,
In a private wing of the Heavenly Soul Palace, Yueying stood alone beneath an open skylight. Her hair, unbound, flowed like midnight silk down her back. A single candle burned beside her—unmoving despite the wind from the courtyard.
A folded letter from Bai Feng rested in her palm.
"Sister… they hesitate. Even father wavers. The elders fear Su Mengtian's rise as much as they fear the Compact's noose. You may need to choose more than loyalty soon. You may need to choose between your heart—and our name."
Yueying's throat clenched. She set the letter down beside a lotus blossom he had given her as children.
"Mengtian,she thought, how do you walk through such storms and not lose yourself?"
She remembered his voice that day in the ashes.
"If they want a war of shadows, then I shall show them the dawn."
Yueying looked up, eyes fierce, resolve blooming in the stillness.
She would not be a pawn.
She would be the blade in the quiet.
And when the storm broke over the empire, she would rise not as Bai Yueying of the Pavilion—but as his equal in the light and dark.
Tianzhen City – State of Records,
Far from the marble palaces, in the candlelit depths of the State of Records Council Hall, Su Mengtian stood before an enormous tapestry map depicting the empire and beyond. Threads of light traced every border, every clan compound, every known trading route.
Behind him stood Kai Chan, Rao Lin, Baojin, Inara, and Ji Yeyan.
"Begin Phase One," Mengtian said. "Yeyan, your shadows will plant misinformation about a hidden bloodline pact between Shi and Long. Whisper it in inns and brothels. Let paranoia do our work."
Yeyan bowed. "Already in motion."
"Kai Chan, compose a musical cipher. Let rogue musicians play it in capital squares. Encoded in the melody are clan secrets and traitor names."
Kai smiled grimly. "The Song of Treachery, then."
"Inara," Mengtian turned to her, "contact our allies in the border garrisons. If the clans march, I want counter-ambush points ready. But we don't strike first."
Baojin asked, "And the Empire?"
Mengtian turned to the map.
"They will watch. And they will listen. We'll make them choose truth or ruin."
While at the Imperial Palace – Inner Sanctum,
Back in the capital, the Emperor sat alone with Qu Yuheng, his hands clasped over ancient scrolls.
"The Veilburst," Tianyi said softly. "A clever name."
"And a dangerous one," said the diviner. "If truth is light, too much of it blinds."
Dongfang Tianyi stood slowly.
"Then let us see who burns first."