The red-armored assassin struck fast.
No words.
Just a flash of steel curved like a crescent moon — aiming for Shen's throat.
But Shen was faster.
He dodged low, his blade sweeping out like water slicing fire. The impact rang through the burial chamber like a temple bell.
Clang.Sparks.A kick.Then distance.
They circled each other in silence.
The assassin's mask bore no insignia. But Shen recognized the stance — precise, practiced… imperial.
"Palace-trained," he thought."But not loyal to the Emperor."
That narrowed it down.
The assassin lunged again, switching to pressure-point strikes meant to disable.
But Shen twisted through them like wind through branches, answering with a counter-attack — a flurry of strikes that disarmed one blade and drove the attacker back toward the iron coffin.
"You're too good to be a hired killer," Shen said, breath steady.
The assassin didn't respond.
Instead, they tossed a smoke pellet — and charged.
But Shen had seen the trick coming.
He stepped sideways — and drove the hilt of his blade into the assassin's ribs.
Crack.
A muffled gasp.
The assassin fell — not dead, but unmoving.
Shen tore off the mask.
His breath hitched.
A girl — no older than him. Pale eyes. Scarred cheek.
"You're… Northborn," he realized. "From Aoqin."
She coughed once. "You weren't supposed to survive this far."
"Why?" he asked. "What's in this tomb?"
Her gaze burned.
"Truth. That could shatter the empire."
Before he could press further, the iron coffin behind them rumbled.
The medallion around Shen's neck lifted into the air — drawn toward it by unseen force.
He turned slowly.
The runes on the coffin flared with green-blue light.
A voice echoed — not loud, not human.
"Blood has returned. The seal breaks."
With a deafening groan, the lid slid open an inch.
Then stopped.
Inside, a faint golden light pulsed like a heartbeat.
Thump.Thump.
A scroll rose from the inner chamber — suspended in mid-air.
Shen stepped forward and took it.
As soon as his fingers touched the parchment, his vision went white.
A memory.
Not his.
The Vanished Prince stood atop a burning wall, holding twin infants wrapped in dragon-cloth.
Below — betrayal.
Behind — fire.
Ahead — the night sky.
He whispered something into the smaller child's ear.
A name.
"Li Yun. You will rise."
Then darkness.
Shen gasped and fell to one knee.
The scroll was still in his hands.
He opened it slowly.
Inside were seven names — each marked with a dragon seal.
Seven guardians.Seven seals.Seven truths to reclaim the legacy of the lost bloodline.
And below them…
One final line:
"When the seventh seal breaks, the empire will remember the twin it tried to forget."
The assassin stirred behind him, watching with wide eyes.
"You're… him," she whispered.
Shen didn't answer.
He stood, scroll in one hand, blade in the other, and said only:
"Tell your masters in the North…the heir they buried isn't dead."