The moon hung low over the imperial city of Luyang, casting a pale silver glow over the rooftops that sloped like dragon scales across the vast palace compound. Beneath its cool gaze, shadows danced some fleeting, others watching.
Zhao Min moved through the stillness like a wraith, his dark robes absorbing what little light remained. The ceremonial festival had ended hours ago, but the city had not returned to slumber. Not fully. Not with the whispers that stalked the corridors of power.
He was not here by order, nor was he dressed in the regalia of a crown prince. Tonight, he walked alone not as heir to the Eastern Empire, but as a man seeking answers in the hollow silence that followed his father's death.
A week had passed since Emperor Zhao Tianyu's sudden collapse during council. Poison, they said. Treachery, they whispered. And though the Empress wept beside the funeral pyre, Zhao Min had seen the flicker in her eyes a triumph she hadn't meant to show.
He didn't trust her. He didn't trust any of them.
Only one man had stood by him in the aftermath General Liang Shen, his father's warhound and oldest friend. And now, Liang Shen too was gone, dead in a carriage fire on the western road. A tragic accident, according to the ministers. But Zhao Min knew better. Accidents rarely left behind scorched bone and missing records.
The wind rustled through the red paper lanterns swaying above the narrow alleyway, their light pulsing like breath. He turned the final corner, stopping just outside an old tea shop long abandoned. The symbol painted on its door had faded, but Zhao Min recognized it: the mark of the Azure Brotherhood. Once loyal protectors of the throne. Now hunted relics of a forgotten age.
He pressed his palm to the sigil.
Nothing.
Then a hiss. Stone scraped softly behind the wall, and a sliver of light broke through. Zhao Min stepped inside, hand on his blade.
The room was empty save for a flickering lantern and a woman seated cross-legged on a worn mat. She was sharpening a blade no longer than her forearm, her posture relaxed but alert. She didn't look up.
"You're late," she said.
Zhao Min didn't answer. His gaze swept the room, noting the exits, the corners where assassins might wait.
Only when he was satisfied did he speak. "You summoned me."
"Correction," she replied, glancing up now. Her eyes were like obsidian, sharp and bottomless. "You followed the breadcrumbs. I simply laid them."
Zhao Min narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. "Liang Hua. Daughter of Liang Shen."
The silence stretched, tightening like a noose.
Zhao Min took a step forward. "You should be dead."
"Funny," she murmured, returning to her blade. "So should you."
He didn't flinch, though his grip tightened. "My condolences. Your father was a great man."
"He died protecting secrets your court buried." Her gaze locked with his, the blade stilling. "Secrets you deserve to know if you truly wish to wear that crown."
Zhao Min's jaw tensed. "Speak plainly."
Liang Hua stood, slow and deliberate. Her form was lithe and poised like a viper uncoiling. She crossed the room and unrolled a faded parchment across the table.
It was a map but not of any known province.
"This," she said, tapping the center where a jade emblem shimmered faintly under the lantern light, "is the Temple of Heavenly Balance. Built before your dynasty ever dreamed of an empire. It holds the truth of your bloodline, your father's rise... and his murder."
Zhao Min's breath slowed. "You have proof?"
"No," she said, folding the map again. "I have something better. A chance."
He studied her, unsure whether she was insane or more dangerous than he had anticipated. "Why now?"
Liang Hua's expression darkened. "Because the Empress moves to crown another and bury what's left of your father's legacy. Because while you mourn, she hunts. And because if we wait any longer, the truth dies with us."
He considered her words in silence, weighing her posture, her voice, her eyes.
"You've risked much to tell me this."
"I didn't do it for you," she said. "I did it for my father. For what he died protecting."
Outside, the wind howled suddenly, rattling the lanterns and shivering through the cracks in the walls. Footsteps echoed in the alley.
Zhao Min drew his blade in a smooth, silent motion. "We're not alone."
Liang Hua didn't seem surprised. She snuffed the lantern with a swift flick of her fingers. Darkness swallowed the room.
The door burst inward.
Three figures in obsidian armor rushed in silent, lethal. Assassins.
Zhao Min moved first, blade flashing silver. He parried the first strike and slammed his attacker into the stone wall. Liang Hua danced around the second, her smaller blade slicing cleanly across the throat.
"Nice entrance," she muttered.
Zhao Min skewered the last one through the gut. "Yours or theirs?"
She chuckled, unbothered. "Wrong. I'm after something far more important than a trinket." Her gaze locked onto his, unwavering. "Meet me at the Temple of Heavenly Balance if you want the truth."
And with that, she leaped from the rooftop, disappearing into the shadows below.
Zhao Min cursed under his breath, sheathing his sword.
This night had changed everything.
And somehow, he knew it was only the beginning.