That night, the sky over Longyuan was dark as ink.
There were no stars, no moon—only the soft sound of lanterns burning in the wind and a distant rumble from the west of the city.
A faint aroma of smoke began to be felt even within the palace walls.
The night birds were silent. Only hurried footsteps in the shadows, like the pulsing heart of a world waiting to stop.
🌸 Princess Ying Yue's Residence
Princess Ying Yue had just removed her jewelry when there was a hurried knock on her chamber door.
"Jie Jie (Elder Sister)!"
A soft but panicked voice sounded—Princess Lian Hua.
As soon as the door was opened, the young girl rushed in and closed it tightly.
"There's movement outside," she whispered, glancing at the window.
"I saw the western guards marching without lanterns... and some were wearing half-face masks."
Ying Yue paled. "Masks? Are they palace guards?"
Lian Hua shook her head quickly. "I don't know. But the maids in the west corridor have been detained. Some were even taken away."
Ying Yue immediately moved towards the door, but a heavy sound was heard from outside.
—Click.
The door was locked from the outside.
Lian Hua looked at her sister in fear. "They... locked us in."
Ying Yue gripped her sister's hand, her eyes sharp but calm.
"Don't be afraid. No matter what happens, we stay here. Don't open the door for anyone."
Outside the room, heavy footsteps echoed along the palace corridor.
The sound of clashing metal, followed by short screams from servants who couldn't hide in time.
The lanterns went out one by one.
The silent night turned into a nameless war.
⚔️ Inner Courtyard — Emperor Qin's Residence
Emperor Qin stood on the stone terrace in simple sleeping clothes, accompanied by the Empress, whose face was pale.
But before them, the ranks of the Xiyang Imperial Iron Cavalry had prepared, forming a semicircle—a hundred soldiers riding black horses with heavy armor, large shields covering their chests and shoulders.
Behind them, the ranks of the Iron Shield Troops formed a defensive wall, deflecting the rain of arrows coming from the rooftops.
Amidst the mist and the sound of iron, Lu Feng, the commander of the inner forces, stood tall in front of the Emperor.
"Your Majesty, the inner palace is surrounded," he said with a firm voice despite his heavy breath.
"Many troops have rebelled. We detected masked armed groups—they are not from Xiyang."
Emperor Qin frowned. "Masks?"
His eyes looked at the stone walls that now trembled from the sound of attacks from all directions.
"The Northern Star..." he murmured quietly, as if realizing something too late.
From the east side rooftop, dozens of black-clad figures leaped down with swift movements.
Their faces were covered by half-face iron masks.
In their hands, giant shurikens spun, thrown like a deadly storm toward the shield troops.
Clang! Clang! Thud!
Several shields shattered. The front-line troops staggered, blood dripping under the torchlight.
The Iron Cavalry immediately moved forward, forming a new defensive wall, pushing back the first wave.
But from other rooftops, more shadows appeared.
A rain of iron fell from the night sky.
Lu Feng shouted loudly, "Hold your position! Protect His Majesty!"
The horses neighed loudly, spinning on the jade stone slick with blood.
The sound of iron hooves and clashing metal created a boom like thunder.
But the strength of the elite palace troops began to fragment—unable to face attacks from all directions.
In the midst of the chaos, the Empress gripped her husband's arm tightly. "We must go, Your Majesty!"
But their steps were halted when heavy hoofbeats were heard from the south side of the garden.
From behind the mist and the torch flares, Prince Zhuang appeared on his white warhorse.
Black armor with gold ornaments wrapped his body, his horse's eyes red from the reflection of the fire.
Behind him, hundreds of heavily armed rebel soldiers followed with terrifying discipline.
From the other side of the courtyard, Princess Liang walked in with calm steps, accompanied by two personal guards in purple attire with daggers bearing the Han symbol hanging from their waists.
"Uncle," Zhuang said softly, his voice calm but deadly.
"It's all over. For the security of the kingdom... you must surrender."
The Emperor stared at him sharply. "You are bold, Zhuang. Raising arms against your own blood?"
Zhuang bowed slightly, his smile thin.
"For the sake of Xiyang, someone had to do it. And you are too old to see the new direction of the world."
"Traitor!" Lu Feng shouted, drawing his sword.
Dozens of the Emperor's loyal soldiers followed, breaking through towards Zhuang's line.
The battle erupted in the stone courtyard.
Fires from torches flew, igniting the royal garden.
Metal clashed with metal; blood splattered on the white jade floor.
The last Iron Cavalry charged forward, hitting the masked troops and rebels simultaneously, but the enemy numbers were far superior.
Bodies fell from horses.
The booming sound echoed like a final drum.
Lu Feng broke through towards Zhuang, his sword trembling with rage.
But before the blade reached its target, a blue light flashed from the rooftop.
A long blade swept through quickly—Hei Feng, the sword belonging to Shen Wuhen, slashed the air like a shadow.
Lu Feng stopped. Blood flowed from his chest.
He fell prostrate before the Emperor, whispering softly,
"Long live... Xiyang..."
and moved no more.
The Empress screamed. The Emperor closed his eyes, his face cold but trembling with suppressed anger.
From the mist on the rooftop, three figures appeared simultaneously—
Mo Xinghai with his Yanyuedao, Han Mei with her black sword Leng Yue, and Shen Wuhen with his Hei Feng, which was still dripping blood.
Their bodies were covered in a black-blue spiritual mist, descending the rooftop like angels of death.
The three Han shadows now stood in the Xiyang palace courtyard—
and there was no one left to stop them.
Emperor Qin was finally surrounded.
The troops who had been guarding outside now turned—they had been taken over by Prince Zhuang.
"Take them to the west hall," Princess Liang commanded flatly. "Guard the royal family with respect, but do not give them an inch of leeway."
Zhuang looked at the captured Emperor, then bowed his head slightly.
"Starting tonight, Xiyang will have a new emperor."
East Palace Corridor — Moments Later
Xu Heng ran through the bloody corridors, his breathing heavy.
A few loyal troops were still with him, less than a hundred men.
"Commander Lu has fallen, Your M—"
"Don't call me that!" Xu Heng cut in quickly. "His Majesty is still alive. We must get out and gather aid."
He paused for a moment, looking towards the west of the city, then whispered sharply,
"Lin Xuan... why aren't you here..."
But only the night wind answered.
Xu Heng looked at the lantern at the end of the corridor—its color was no longer yellow, but red.
A sign that the palace had fallen.
"To the east gate!" he cried.
His troops moved, breaking through the outer wall.
Behind them, fire began to devour the Xiyang imperial palace.
On the highest tower of Longyuan, the lanterns changed color.
From golden to blood-red.
Emperor Qin was captured.
Commander Lu Feng fell.
Xu Heng fled, carrying the last hope of the empire.
And under that moonless sky,
Prince Zhuang's laughter echoed—
a sign that tonight, the power of Xiyang had officially changed hands.
The Forced Marriage
The Next Morning — West Pavilion, Longyuan Palace
The west hall of the palace was filled with silk cloths, lanterns, and whispers heavy with calculation.
But all that grandeur now served only as a thin curtain to cover the aroma of iron—a tension as thick as steam that refused to dissipate.
In the middle of the room, Princess Ying Yue stood tall.
The black gown with silver embroidery she wore made her figure look cold yet dignified.
Her eyes burned with suppressed anger, but her lips were sealed—as if holding a storm within her chest.
Beside her, Princess Lian Hua clutched her clothes tightly, her eyes wet and her hands trembling.
The hall door creaked softly.
Prince Zhuang stepped in with slow steps, like someone who already held the key to the world.
His smile was sharp, calm, and dangerous.
Behind him stood a line of black-armored soldiers—half of whom had now turned their loyalty to him.
He stopped a few steps from Ying Yue, staring at her without blinking.
"Ying Yue," he said softly, as if speaking the name of a lover.
"You know the meaning of this morning, don't you? This is not merely the union of two souls. This is about the stability of a fractured Xiyang."
In the corner of the hall, Princess Liang, his mother, sat cross-legged.
Her face was full of elegance, but her eyes held a flash of calculation.
Her hand held a jade cup; her calm voice was more dangerous than a shout.
"My son does not wish to destroy your legacy, Ying Yue," she said.
"He wants to save this kingdom from ruin. This marriage is a wise step—to bind blood and power so that the chaos stops."
Ying Yue stared sharply, her voice trembling but firm.
"By kidnapping the throne and intimidating the people? I never thought the Aunt and Cousin I once respected would become traitors."
Zhuang stepped closer, his eyes cold.
"You know palace life, Yue. Not every battle can be won with virtue. If I don't take control, someone else will. And when that happens, the blood of our own family will be the first to spill."
"What do you want from me?" she asked softly, almost a whisper.
Zhuang raised one hand, pointing toward the line of maids near the door—their faces pale, some bowed deeply in fear.
"Simple. You will marry me officially in the throne room three days from now. In that ceremony, I will announce the transition of power and all ministers will swear allegiance. In exchange, the safety of your family... will be guaranteed."
Ying Yue stared at him sharply. But before she could speak, Princess Liang continued, her voice gentle yet piercing.
"If you refuse, we have no other choice. The Han forces now hold proof—and the head of Emperor Qin might be handed over to them as a guarantee of peace. Do you want that to happen?"
Those words froze the air in the hall.
Small whispers broke out among the attending officials: "The Emperor's head will be handed over..."
The tone was like a knife slicing through hope.
Ying Yue closed her eyes for a moment.
In her mind flashed the face of her father—weak in a prison cell, her mother who was now tightly watched, her sister who did not understand politics, and the people who still believed in her.
She took a long breath.
"If I refuse," she said quietly, "what guarantee is there that my father will remain alive?"
Zhuang approached until the distance between them was only one step.
"There are no eternal guarantees," he said expressionlessly. "Only choices. My choice: you become my Empress, power remains in this family, and your family is protected—for now. Your choice: refusal, and all imperial blood may end at the Han gates."
Princess Lian Hua cried silently.
The maids averted their faces.
Outside the hall, the sound of flags being raised by Zhuang's troops echoed in the corridor, like the drums of war forcing a decision to be made now.
In Ying Yue's mind, one name kept throbbing: Lin Xuan. Where is he now? The unshakeable one, whose own identity is a mystery. But as the world cast its choices upon her shoulders, Lin Xuan's presence did not feel real. She realized one thing: the decision must be made now, not later.
She knew, this was not the time to refuse—but also not the time to surrender.
She looked at Zhuang, her eyes gleaming.
"Prince Zhuang," she said with a steady tone.
"If you truly loved me, you wouldn't need to make power the binder. But fine. I am not marrying out of fear. I am marrying because I don't want to see the people of Xiyang slaughtered any further. Do not think I am giving up. This marriage is not the end of the fight—it is only the first step. And I will control it from within."
Zhuang smiled faintly—the smile of a conqueror who had just heard his enemy agree to sit in the seat of their own captivity.
"For now, that is enough, Princess. You know the role you must play."
Princess Liang stood up, tidying her robes, and looked at all those present.
"Good. We announce the ceremony in three days. All preparations are to be made immediately. Anyone who opposes, we will teach a lesson—because peace is not born from weakness."
Several ministers in the corner of the hall exchanged glances; some of their faces were pale.
Shortly after, two of them were dragged out silently.
Ying Yue bowed her head, holding back her tears.
Princess Lian Hua ran closer, gripping her sister's hand tightly.
But Ying Yue only whispered softly, "Calm down. I know what I have to do."
After the Meeting
Princess Ying Yue was taken to her private chamber in the west wing.
In the palace corridors, Zhuang's soldiers patrolled; flags changed color, from gold-red to black and purple.
A few loyal maids were detained, some ministers were summoned to sign letters of loyalty.
Princess Liang managed everything coldly and efficiently.
For anyone who refused, the threat of Han became the most potent weapon.
For those who hesitated, the lure of new power sealed their lips.
Meanwhile, Ying Yue sat in front of a small jade mirror in her room.
Her hands tidied her hair, twisting a gold pin at the end of her bun.
Her reflection in the mirror looked calm—but her eyes held an unquenched ember.
She whispered softly, as if writing a vow into the air:
"For every step I take in this palace, I will pull back the curtain and find the rope that binds the nation.
If I must wear a false crown to break the chains from within, then let it be so.
But I will not submit forever."
Outside, the Longyuan sky was gray and red—a sign that the city was beginning to lose its peace.
In three days, the entire nation would witness a forced marriage.
But behind the curtains and false smiles, Princess Ying Yue had planted the seed of rebellion.
And in the depth of her heart, only one name she waited to emerge from the darkness—
The First Shadow.
The candle on Princess Ying Yue's table went out, blown by the wind from the open window.
But the ember in her eyes remained lit, refusing to fade with the night.
In the distance, a faint boom was heard—not the music of a feast, but the sound of clashing metal and suppressed screams.
Longyuan was in turmoil again.
From the watchtower, smoke could be seen rising in the north of the city.
Black shadows ran across the rooftops, fast, silently.
They were not ordinary soldiers.
They came without flags, only with a symbol engraved on their chests—an inverted star.
The secret forces of Han had begun to move.
Within hours after Princess Ying Yue's decision in the west hall, all of Longyuan turned into an unseen battlefield.
Loyal palace guards were quietly murdered in the corridors.
Ministers who refused to swear allegiance were found dead in their backyards.
And on the main streets, people began to whisper—about footsteps on the rooftops, about silvery eyes lurking in the mist.
The Battle for Guangming Academy
The night wind carried the smell of smoke and blood.
The lantern at the gate of Guangming Academy burned continuously, and every student was no longer a scholar—they had become soldiers.
In the central courtyard, Feng Zhiren stood tall under the half-burnt Guangming flag.
He wore a white-silver robe with a blue sash—the mark of a young academy teacher.
His right hand held a spiritual sword, his eyes fixed straight ahead at the gate.
"Han Jie, guard the south side. Lu Qing, help the lower-level students evacuate," he said firmly.
His calm voice cut through the commotion, making everyone move without hesitation.
Teacher Wei stood not far from him, his face weary but his gaze still sharp.
"Zhiren," he said, "this city no longer has a center of government. The palace is seized, the royal guards are scattered. Now this academy is the only symbol of hope for the people of Longyuan."
Feng Zhiren nodded slowly. "Then we will hold out until loyal forces arrive."
On the east tower, Zi Yueyan stood observing the northern direction in her pink and silver clothing that shimmered faintly under the firelight.
Her black hair fluttered, her yellow eyes narrowed through the mist.
"Movement on the west side is increasing," she called down.
"I count at least twenty shadows with foreign spiritual energy. They are not palace soldiers."
Feng Zhiren looked up at her from under the tower. "They are Northern Star troops. Do not face them alone, Zi Yueyan. Focus on defense."
Zi Yueyan lowered her gaze, her smile thin. "Understood. But if they come through the air... I will be the first to welcome them."
Teacher Wei looked at his two students—one cold as steel, one calm as light.
He knew, tonight was not just a test of ability. It was a test of faith.
Amidst the flames of Longyuan, the light of Guangming would determine whether Xiyang still had a future.
Teacher Wei, with a heavy breath, stood among the market ruins.
"My students... do not let the light fade in this city! If Longyuan falls, then all of Xiyang will become a land of hell!"
He raised his spiritual staff high.
Hundreds of particles of light radiated from its tip, turning into a net of sacred light that covered part of the Longyuan sky from arrows and evil spirits.
Zi Yueyan looked at him in awe—but her heart was restless.
Amidst the clamor of war and human screams, one thought kept turning in her mind:
"Lin Xuan... where are you...? This city won't last long without your shadow."
En Route North – The Road to Tianmen
The mountain mist was still thick as Lin Xuan led his horse down the rocky path.
The northern sky was dark gray, as if about to collapse.
The wind carried a scent he knew—blood, iron, and the dust of battle.
He knew he was getting closer to Tianmen.
But something felt strange since that morning.
The birds had disappeared from the sky.
And in the distance, black clouds moved in a circle above the plains, as if signaling a storm yet to come.
Suddenly, the jade stone on his belt vibrated softly—emitting a bluish light.
Lin Xuan stopped, staring at it.
The light spun and changed shape, revealing the silhouette of a woman with long white hair, her golden-yellow eyes glowing softly in the mist—Bai Suyin.
"Master..." her voice sounded amidst the rustling wind. "I finally managed to find you."
Lin Xuan looked at her sharply. "Suyin? What is it? Why are you using long-distance summoning technique? Your spiritual energy will be drained."
But Bai Suyin shook her head quickly. "No time. I have to tell you—Longyuan... is in danger."
Lin Xuan straightened up. "What do you mean?"
"The palace forces were betrayed," she continued quickly. "Prince Zhuang and his mother carried out a coup d'état last night. Emperor Qin and the Empress are detained, Commander Lu Feng has fallen. Princess Ying Yue... is being forced to marry to legitimize Zhuang's power."
Suyin's voice was hoarse, almost a whisper. "And worse—Han's shadow troops have already spread throughout the city. Teacher Wei and the students of Guangming Academy are currently fighting to defend the city."
Lin Xuan was silent for a long time.
His eyes slowly dimmed behind the mist.
"My God, then why did Xu Heng send me to Tianmen?" he muttered softly. "Could the letter from the palace... be a trap."
Bai Suyin bowed her head. "I suspect the letter was manipulated by Prince Zhuang's own hands. And... I also found other news. Xu Heng managed to escape the palace. He is now leading loyal troops in Luyang Forest, preparing the resistance and looking for a way to free the Emperor."
Lin Xuan looked at the gloomy sky, then slowly closed his eyes.
"Xu Heng..." he said softly. "So even he is still fighting."
Bai Suyin looked at him, her face anxious. "What will you do, Master? Longyuan needs you."
Silence.
Only the passing wind, carrying dry leaves dancing around him.
Then Lin Xuan opened his eyes.
His gaze had changed—no longer cold, but gleaming like fire in the shadows.
"It's too late to turn back now," he said firmly.
"Tianmen is already in Han's hands. If I retreat, they will have two fortresses at once—Tianmen and Longyuan. No. I must destroy this fortress first... before heading to Luyang."
He stepped forward, patting his horse's neck slowly.
"After that, I will meet Xu Heng. And we will reignite the war they started."
Bai Suyin looked at him in silence, then slowly smiled faintly.
"Very well, Master. I will await news of your victory. But be careful... Han is not like before. They now play with shadows and blood."
The jade light slowly faded.
Only the mist remained.
Lin Xuan mounted his horse, his eyes looking north.
From a distance, a red light burned the sky—Tianmen began to appear, turning into a sea of fire.
He took a long breath.
The sound of hooves echoed in the lonely valley.
"Zhuang, Han... you want to seize Xiyang?"
He smiled faintly behind his dark face.
"Then I will show you the true meaning of darkness."
The black horse neighed and ran—breaking through the mist, towards the hell of Tianmen.
The Call from Heiyan City
West of Xiyang — Heiyan City
The western sky was copper-colored, the afternoon sun piercing through the gray clouds and reflecting on the gray stone walls of Heiyan City.
On the highest tower, a blue flag with a silver dragon emblem fluttered gently. The wind carried the smell of iron and the damp old valley—a sign that the storm from the east was drawing near.
In the main hall of the governor's residence, the sound of paper tearing broke the silence.
The Governor of Heiyan stared at the letter that had just arrived—its red seal still warm. On it was written the sender's name: Xu Heng.
"Longyuan has been seized. The Emperor is captured.
Prince Zhuang has betrayed, Han is moving from the north.
If there is still a soul loyal to the light of Xiyang, rise up.
We are waiting in Luyang Forest."
The old governor's hand slowly clenched. His face was hard like a rock enduring a storm.
"So, the time has come," he muttered softly. "Xiyang... is forced to kneel."
The sound of light footsteps approached. A young man in a dark blue robe entered calmly—Young Master Jin.
A spiritual fan with a dragon carving hung from his waist, and in his eyes shone a calmness unusual for someone his age.
"Father," he said softly, "the news from Longyuan... is it true?"
The Governor of Heiyan looked at his son for a long time before answering.
"It is true. The Emperor is captured, the palace is seized. But Xu Heng, the head of the imperial shadows, is alive. He is calling for resistance from Luyang Forest."
Jin Rui was silent for a moment. The wind from the window carried the scent of dust and resin.
"So, the time to write that future... has also arrived."
The governor smiled faintly, but his gaze was heavy. "You know what this means, Rui. If we move, Heiyan will be empty. If we lose, this city will turn to ashes."
The young man bowed slightly, then opened his fan. On its surface were soft lines like a map.
"If Longyuan falls, no city can be saved. But if we move now, Luyang can become the last fortress."
He closed his eyes briefly. "Father... allow me to lead the troops this time."
The Governor of Heiyan looked at him, long, between pride and worry.
"Since when have you dared to speak like a general?"
"Since this nation lost one," Jin Rui replied softly.
A moment of silence. Then, the governor stood up, patting his son's shoulder.
"Very well. Prepare twenty thousand Heiyan troops. We leave tonight."
Hours Later — West Gate of Heiyan
The ranks of the Heiyan troops stretched as far as the eye could see.
Their armor reflected the lantern light, and among them stood Jin Rui, looking east—towards Longyuan.
His beloved horse, Yunxi, neighed softly. He patted its neck gently.
"Calm down, Yunxi. The western sky is always calm before the storm, isn't it?"
He looked down. Among the troops, a large flag with the inscription "Heiyan Zhenjun" was visible—the core forces specially trained under the Qingliu Zhenfa formation.
They marched silently, like a clear stream ready to flow through the valley of war.
Before giving the signal to depart, Jin Rui looked at the small silver bracelet hanging from the handle of his fan.
In its reflection, he seemed to see a shadow of childhood—
a small girl in a white dress who smiled awkwardly at the Longyuan market, handing him the bracelet.
"Princess Ying Yue..." he whispered softly. "You may not remember me. But this time, let me keep the promise I never spoke—to protect you."
The night wind blew his robe. He closed his fan, then looked ahead.
"Heiyan Troops! Move towards Longyuan! Today, we are not just the guardians of the west—we are the balance of the Xiyang world!"
The sound of hooves echoed in the lonely valley.
Twenty thousand troops left Heiyan, carrying the twilight light towards the east.