The smell of gunpowder still hung in the air. Smoke drifted in lazy tendrils over the shattered west wall, where charred wood and blood mingled on scorched earth.
The monster was gone its body reduced to a pool of dark sludge that steamed in the pale morning sun but the fear it left behind remained, clinging to every surface of Xingzhao like soot.
Song Lian sat on the flat stone near the riverbank, where the villagers once gathered for laundry and quiet talk. Her hands trembled faintly as she cleaned the disassembled pistol on her lap, each piece wiped with care and precision.
She hadn't spoken since dawn. Behind her, footsteps approached, slow and measured. Yun Zhen. She didn't look up.
"I know what you're going to ask," she said quietly.
"Good," he replied, stepping around to face her. "Because I'm going to ask it anyway."
He crouched in front of her, eye-level now. In his hands, he held the rifle he had used during the raid, carefully wrapped in a cloth. His expression was not angry—but it was serious. Deeply so.
"You saved lives," he said. "Yours. Mine. Dozens of others."
A pause.
"But I've never seen a weapon like this in my life. And I've studied every weapon used across the five provinces. That… wasn't from any battlefield in this empire."
Song Lian's hand stopped moving. She set the pistol down, resting her palms flat on her thighs.
"I can't explain it all," she said. "Not yet."
"Try."
Her eyes met his.
"I was born with something… different," she said carefully. "A space, bound to my soul. It's not magic like yours. It doesn't draw from the elements or rely on runes. It's something older. Or maybe newer."
"That weapon," he said, motioning to the gun, "where did you get it?"
"I brought it with me," she said. "From… somewhere far away. A place I can't return to."
Yun Zhen stared at her, silent. The forest around them creaked and rustled with birdsong, but the moment felt still. Frozen.
Finally, he spoke. "You're not from this world, are you?"
Song Lian looked away. "I don't know how to answer that."
Yun Zhen nodded slowly, then stood, exhaling as though the weight of her answer only confirmed something he already suspected.
"I won't tell the others," he said.
She looked back at him, startled.
"I saw what you did last night," he added. "You fought to protect this place. You never hesitated. That's more important to me than where you're from."
He turned to leave but paused.
"But if we're to face what's coming, I need to know what you can do. All of it. No more secrets between us."
Song Lian nodded slowly, her voice soft. "Next time… I'll tell you everything."
The Capital, Yun Empire
Far away, behind the marble columns of the imperial palace, the atmosphere was very different.
The Hall of Still Waters was silent save for the gentle bubbling of a jade koi pond in the center. Velvet curtains muted the sunlight. Servants knelt by the walls, heads bowed, unmoving.
In the middle of the chamber, three hooded figures knelt before a raised dais. Only one man sat on the throne—shrouded in red silks, face veiled, fingers heavy with rings of gold and bone.
His voice was calm, but razor-sharp. "Report."
One of the Black Hall emissaries lifted her head slightly.
"We engaged the exiled prince's settlement," she said. "Resistance was stronger than anticipated. Unnatural weapons were used. Our forces suffered heavy casualties."
The figure on the throne leaned forward. "What kind of weapons?"
The emissary hesitated. "Firearms… of unknown origin. Swift. Lethal. Not forged anywhere in the Yun Empire."
A soft murmur passed through the hidden figures in the shadows.
"Did you confirm the prince's identity?" the man asked.
"Yes, my lord. The man is undoubtedly Yun Zhen. He leads the village. They call it Xingzhao."
The figure on the throne was silent for a long moment.
Then: "And the woman?"
The emissary's voice dropped lower. "She is not what she seems. Her energy is not bound to any known leyline. She uses knowledge and tools foreign to our realm. She is dangerous."
Silence again. Then, a hand waved lazily.
"Let the court believe he is a ghost," the veiled man said. "A phantom stirring in the north. It will make them desperate. Reckless."
"And the woman?" the second emissary asked.
"We observe. For now."
"But she killed seven of our disciples alone…"
"I said observe."
His voice was ice. A pause. Then he smiled, though none could see it.
"Let them build their haven," he said. "Let them gather their wounded, build their walls, plant their hopes. We will wait."
He rose.
"Then we will burn it all."