The wind howled through the borderlands, sweeping dust like whispers across fractured roads and silent garrisons. In the twilight between war and deception, loyalties once thought unshakable began to split along unseen seams.
In the jagged outskirts of Meihua Gorge, cloaked figures met under the obscured stars. It was a hidden grove—one used for covert clan negotiations long before the age of Su Mengtian's Alliance. A lone Wyrmcaller—draped in moss-gray robes and with a whispering wyrm coiled around her shoulders—watched silently from a tree's bough. Her eyes narrowed.
The two men below, cloaked and veiled, glanced around before speaking.
"Jin Zeyan grows restless," said a voice muffled by a silk scarf. "The embargoes have cost him too much. He won't wait for another quarter moon."
"The Shi are already moving supplies," the second answered, adjusting his jade-inlaid vambrace. "Armaments routed through mining towns in the East Range. If the Compact delays longer, we take the war to the frontiers."
The Wyrmcaller's wyrm twitched. A soft pulse of magic rippled from her wrist into the carved emblem at her hip. Far away, in the Hall of Wyrmcallers' watch-post, the recording began.
Tianzhen City – Su Mengtian's Study,
The projection danced before Mengtian as the report was relayed through Kai Chan's auditory echo-crystal.
Mengtian, seated cross-legged with lightning flickering from his fingertips to the iron floor, watched without blinking. The names, the route details, the coded words—Shi-Jin coordination was not just real. It was accelerating.
Lan Qiu stood at his side, wind tattoos swirling faintly with current. "They're setting the fuse."
Mengtian's eyes narrowed. "Then we must disarm it before it lights."
Heavenly Soul Palace – Tianzhen City,
The letter arrived in silence.
Bound in pale gold and sealed with an unfamiliar Tang family insignia, it carried neither warmth nor hesitation. Yueying read the missive alone, candlelight trembling over her hands.
The words were precise.
*"Tang Xuanming offers supply caravans for the Compact's eastern campaign."*
Requisition forms signed in his hand. Dates match the armament reports from the Shi-Jin meeting.
The betrayal struck harder than iron.
Her uncle. Her mother's brother. A man who raised her on stories of honor and shield walls.
Yueying's hand curled into a trembling fist. That night, she packed her belongings, wrote only a short note to Mengtian, and boarded the airskiff bound for the Bai estate in the frostbitten northern territories.
Bai Family Estate – Two Days Later,
Snow clung to the gates as Yueying passed beneath the Ice-Phoenix banners of her house. Bai Qingtian stood in the hall, arms folded beneath his fox-fur cloak. Beside him, the aged yet keen-eyed Bai Xuening studied her closely.
She bowed, then handed the letter across the firelit space.
Bai Qingtian read silently. Not a word until he finished.
"Tang Xuanming," he said at last, voice flat. "He was a trusted brother-in-law."
"Was," Bai Xuening corrected.
Yueying's voice was soft, but resolute. "Father. Grandfather. You always taught me to honor our blood, but to serve our people above all. The Compact has chosen treachery masked as patriotism. We must stand apart."
They stared at her for long, silent moments. Then Bai Qingtian gave a nod.
Three Days Later – Frostveil Square, Bai Estate,
The great square was filled with frost, banners flapping gently under pale sunlight.
A podium had been erected. Bai Qingtian stepped forward to murmurs among the crowd—then raised his hand.
"In these days of division and rising flame, the Bai family shall not lend its sword to shadows," he declared. "Let it be known—the Bai stand neutral."
There was a ripple of surprise.
Then Yueying stepped beside her father, eyes steady.
"Yet I stand with Su Mengtian," she said. "Where truth walks, I shall walk with it."
The statement shook the capital's elite within the hour.
Crimson Sky Empire – Long Family Estate,
Midnight. Silent halls.
Shi Ruolan walked through the mist-shrouded garden of jade lilies. She felt the stillness break with the faintest flicker of warning.
A raven perched on the sculpture ahead. A red ribbon was tied to its leg. She approached slowly.
The bird did not move.
She untied the scroll.
No signature. No seal.
The inner court of the Long family estate was quieter than usual, a silence only broken by the rustling of wind-touched silks and the distant clang of training weapons. But inside a candle-lit side chamber, Shi Ruolan sat stiffly, her fingers trembling as she held the tiny scroll just delivered to her by a handmaiden who vanished without a word.
She unrolled it slowly.
"The Dragon bleeds."
And beneath it, barely visible—an old Long clan sigil, twisted inwards, like a mirror cracked at its heart.
Her breath caught. Someone was bleeding the family from within.
The message was written in a cipher only the highest-ranking members of her husband's inner circle would understand. But the handwriting was unmistakable: Long Xielan, an elder of their clan—and now missing.
Her mind whirled. Long Xielan had been overseeing a classified mission into the Northern Wastes—a region that bordered neutral Bai family territories. Was he dead? Captured? Or worse, defected?
She pressed the scroll against her lips, eyes closing. There were too many fractures now—within the clan, the Compact, and the Empire itself. And if Su Mengtian suspected the Long were wavering...
She stood up, straightened her robes, and called out. "Summon Elder Long Tianhai. We must convene the inner family council."
Tianzhen City – Hall of Shadows Sub-Chamber,
Mengtian watched Ji Yeyan methodically pin a series of notes to the shadow-board: intercepted couriers, hidden supply caches, encrypted meeting logs between the Jin and Shi families.
"They were planning arms distribution to six frontier towns," Ji Yeyan murmured. "Most of them just outside Crimson Sky's tax perimeter. Which means plausible deniability."
Lan Qiu, wind-sleeved and calm, tilted her head. "They want it to look like independent militia resistance, not Compact-backed insurrection."
Yue Mei tapped the projection. "Here and here — these two towns lie in the corridor between Peng and Shi jurisdictions. The unrest that starts there will burn into our northern lines by the harvest season."
Mengtian's eyes narrowed. "Then let's make them burn faster — and in a different direction."
He turned to Xuan Le's latest report. "We have a contact in the Wei family's neutral brokerage. Let's leak a falsified document showing that Shi Jainhong requested illicit mineral shipments from Jin Zeyan. That should trigger fear within the Peng supply routes and fracture their trade trust."
"Misinformation again?" Baojin asked from the side, appearing within the hall, her brows drawn. "We are dancing ever closer to becoming what we fight."
"Truth is a dagger, Baojin," Mengtian said, coldly. "What matters is where it draws blood."
Baojin frowned, but said nothing.
Bai Family Estate – Northern Territories,
Yueying stood in the cold of the morning, breathing in the mountain air. Her father had agreed to a public declaration, but the days since had been quiet — too quiet.
Inside the family temple, she lit incense beside her grandfather, Bai Xuening. His gaze lingered not on the flames but on her posture.
"You carry the weight of a sovereign, granddaughter," he said.
"Perhaps," she replied. "Or perhaps a traitor, in the eyes of many."
"They will call it betrayal. But you know better."
She nodded. Her heart had fractured since discovering her uncle's betrayal — Tang Xuanming, once a trusted guardian, now a conspirator.
Later that evening, she read his final letter again, the one she had retrieved from a courier's broken satchel. His script, so careful, so cold:
"The Compact must hold. Your loyalty to Su Mengtian blinds you. When the storm breaks, bloodlines will determine survival—not sentiment."
She folded the letter and placed it inside a sealed lacquer box. Then she picked up her brush and wrote her own letter — addressed to Su Mengtian.
"We stand. The Bai will not bow. My path remains unchanged. But this wound will scar deeper than I feared."
Imperial Capital – Hidden Chamber Beneath the Court Diviner's Tower,
Qu Yuheng moved slowly, his fingers dancing over star-charts and burning paper talismans. The arcane light of constellations glimmered above him, flickering like fireflies caught in divine winds.
"A storm from within," he whispered. "The lion roars, but the sky turns from it."
A servant appeared, holding a sealed scroll. Qu Yuheng opened it and read Mengtian's encoded message, then looked up at the stars.
"So the boy read the board two moves ahead," he murmured.
He turned to the flame.
"He believes he has started the war in silence. But soon, he will learn: storms do not whisper."
Tianzhen City – Night Before Veilburst,
Lan Qiu and Yue Mei returned under heavy fog. In the courtyard outside the State of Records Council Hall, Su Mengtian awaited them.
"The court is shaken," Yue Mei said, stepping down from her transport beast. "Zihan and Haoran are drawing swords in words now, not just in principle."
"And the Empress?" Mengtian asked.
"Watching," Lan Qiu replied. "As always. But she is not idle. The Queen's Shadow Guard were deployed last night. Likely toward Peng territories."
Mengtian turned to the hall behind him. "Then we move tonight."
He led them inside, where maps, scrolls, and glass beads glittered in a circle of illumination. In the center lay the blueprint of Operation Veilburst.
"We will strike their truths before we strike their borders," Mengtian said. "Let every weapon they raise turn to ash in their allies' hands."
He gestured to a final symbol: a lion circled in wind and flame.
"Break their compacts before their blades. That is Veilburst."
Yue Mei looked at him. "And what of the cost, Su Mengtian? What of the innocents who pay in blood for our deceptions?"
He turned to her, the weight of silence in his gaze.
"Then we must win. Quickly. So that fewer coins are paid in red."