The parchment still smelled of phoenix ash and royal wax when Long Wei lowered the scroll.
He said nothing at first—just passed the letter across the table to his elite warriors. They read in silence, their expressions sharpening with each word.
The letter bore the Imperial Seal, and it was clear in its command:
*"To Prince Long Wei.
March to the city of Xiangwu, near the eastern foothills.This city holds martial clans, Qi Lords, and spiritual sects who have yet to declare allegiance to the Empire.Bring them under our rule.By blade… or by bond."*
For a long moment, none of them spoke.
Ren Kai broke the silence first.
"If we wage war, we'll lose more men than we did at Fenglin. These are no common rebels. They're trained martial elites. Some of them… might be stronger than us."
Yue Lan nodded.
"It's not just a city. Xiangwu is home to hidden sects, sword clans, wandering cultivators… It is a hornet's nest."
Jin Mu leaned forward.
"Then don't bring a hammer. Send an invitation."
Long Wei looked up. His eyes, calm as a frozen lake, held the weight of decision.
"We propose a tournament."
They all turned to him.
"If we defeat them in battle, not war — they submit to the Empire peacefully. No bloodshed for the people. No unnecessary death among warriors. We win their respect, not just their land."
Bai Feng offered a slight grin.
"Your mind's as sharp as your sword."
They drafted the scroll that night—an official request for a tournament of surrender. A fair challenge: if the city's strongest were defeated in honorable combat, they would submit willingly. One of the warriors summoned the messenger falcon. The scroll was tied tight and launched into the clouds toward Xiangwu.
The March to Xiangwu
At dawn, Long Wei gathered his men.
The border command was left to 100,000 troops. The rest—his elite guard, officers, and soldiers—began the march eastward.
Through mountain paths and misty valleys they rode. For five days, they crossed ancient trails, where sword-shaped stones jutted from the ground and old battle banners fluttered in ruins.
The phoenix standard of Jiǔtiān led the way.
But not all messages reached their mark.
In the Imperial Palace
Word of the Emperor's assignment reached the ears of Empress Han Meiyin before the court made it public. And the moment she heard the name "Xiangwu," a chill flooded her soul.
She knew what others in court preferred to forget:
*Xiangwu was not just a martial city.
It was home to the old bloodline—cousins, nephews, uncles of Long Wei himself.
A city of family.*
She rushed to the Emperor's Court, her eyes burning with fury beneath her composed facade.
"Your Majesty," she said, bowing stiffly. "Why assign such a task to Long Wei? You know that city holds the blood of our lineage. Are you sending him to conquer his own kin?"
The Emperor sat motionless on his throne, as unreadable as ever.
"If they are family," he said coldly, "they will not resist. And if they do—then they were never truly ours."
The Empress stepped forward.
"So you sent him into a civil war disguised as a mission?"
His gaze darkened.
"So… you admit to sending him a secret letter?"
She straightened, but said nothing.
"You defied my order," he thundered. "Guards—escort the Empress to her residence. She is to remain under house arrest until further notice."
The guards stepped forward.
For a moment, she looked like she might resist—her qi pulsing faintly beneath her sleeves. But she stopped herself.
Not now.
She turned, wordless, and followed the guards in silence.
As she passed the corridor near the Moon Pavilion, she met the eyes of Consort Li Xiu, the Second Queen. The woman offered a faint, too-sweet smile.
The Empress said nothing.
She walked on.
That Night – A Silent Oath
The doors to her residence were sealed behind her.
But that didn't stop him.
In the dead of night, her youngest son, Third Prince Long Jie, slipped past the guards and knelt beside her in her chamber.
"Mother," he whispered. "I heard what happened."
The Empress's voice was low.
"Your brother is heading into a trap wrapped in silk. That city… is more dangerous than the battlefield."
Long Rui's jaw tightened.
"Then I will go. Quietly. With my own guard. If I can't stop the war, I'll at least stand beside my brother."
Outside Xiangwu
Five days passed.
The mountains parted.
And before them stood the massive gates of Xiangwu City — carved from black stone, embedded with runes, and guarded by rows of silent monks in golden robes.
Long Wei and his troops camped just outside the entrance.
But no answer came.
Not from the City Lord.
Not from the Sect Elders.
Not from anyone.
Ren Kai stood beside Long Wei.
"This silence… it feels like defiance."
Jin Mu murmured, "These sects are powerful. Are we truly ready?"
Long Wei stood at the edge of the cliff, sword at his back, his gaze calm.
Suddenly—a sharp wind cut through the air.
From deep within the city, a sword exploded outward—spinning in the air with brilliant essence, its aura shaking the very ground as it embedded itself at the gate.
A figure descended behind it, floating in midair, feet barely touching the hilt.
Clad in white, with silver hair bound in a high knot, stood a man with glowing eyes and presence that warped the wind around him.
The Sword Deity.
Yue Lan inhaled sharply.
"That's him. Xiangwu's sword guardian. A legend among cultivators."
Long Wei stepped forward slowly.
"Are you the sword deity?"
The man nodded faintly.
"I bring word from the City Lord.
If you seek the city's allegiance, then pass through me."
The sword beneath him began to glow.
Long Wei smiled.
He unstrapped Tiān Míng from his back, its divine edge humming in anticipation.
With a single step, he launched into the sky—hovering before the Sword Deity, the light of two supreme blades illuminating the night air.
"Then let's see how sharp your faith truly is."
That Night – On the Mountain Road
The moon rode high, casting a cold silver glow across the winding forest path outside Jiǔtiān's capital. Long Jie, the Second Prince, gripped the reins of his horse with silent urgency. His cloak flared in the wind, and behind him rode four personal guards, cloaked in the black-and-gold armor of the imperial inner circle.
They traveled without banners. No symbols. Only purpose.
The silence of the night broke suddenly.
A sharp whistle.
Then steel.
Blades sang from the darkness—assassins, masked and robed in grey, descended from the trees. One slashed at Long Jie's mount; another hurled daggers laced with qi-venom. The prince leapt from his horse just before it collapsed, unsheathing his curved saber in a blur.
The forest exploded with combat.
Long Jie fought with precision. Not as wild and godlike as Long Wei, but with royal training and deadly speed. His saber pulsed with green wind energy, each strike twisting the air. One assassin tried to grapple him, but was thrown across a tree trunk with a qi blast.
His guards held the line, blades clashing with the shadows.
Within minutes, the forest fell quiet again.
Blood stained the ground.
Long Jie breathed heavily, eyes scanning the woods.
"They knew our route," he muttered.
His head guard knelt beside one of the fallen attackers.
"Mercenaries. Paid in foreign coins. Not from Xiangwu."
Long Jie's jaw clenched.
"Then someone in the palace wanted to stop me. That only means I must go faster."
They mounted again, galloping toward the eastern mountains—toward Xiangwu.
Inside Xiangwu – The Sect Leader's Hall
At the highest peak in the city, built into the mountain face itself, stood the Hall of Wind and Stars—a majestic structure overlooking the entire city of Xiangwu. The hall's walls were etched with ancient characters. Lanterns swayed gently as high qi swirled in the breeze.
Inside, in a wide chamber open to the sky, stood the Sect Leader, Master Shen Zhen, a tall figure in flowing white robes. His eyes, though aged, burned with clarity. At his side was a young woman, his daughter—Shen Lianhua, a graceful cultivator with ice-blue eyes and her hair tied in an elegant phoenix loop.
They both watched the duel preparing to unfold far below.
Through qi-imbued sight, they could see the light flaring at the gates—the Sword Deity and Long Wei hovering in midair.
Lianhua turned to her father.
"That's him? Long Wei?"
Shen Zhen nodded.
"He's grown into his father's steel. But I see his mother's soul within him."
Lianhua tilted her head.
"You knew her?"
"Han Meiyin was one of my first disciples. She trained beneath this very mountain… long before she entered the palace."
Lianhua's eyes widened slightly.
"Then this fight… is between master and student's child?"
Shen Zhen's lips curled into a smile.
"In a way. But fate writes its own scrolls."
She asked softly, "Who do you think will win?"
Shen Zhen stepped forward to the edge of the balcony, looking far into the night.
"The Sword Deity has never been touched in combat. He is the will of Xiangwu. But that boy… Long Wei… he is no ordinary prince. He carries power beyond martial strength."
He closed his eyes.
"Let's see."
At the City Gates
Above the wide, ancient gate, the air shimmered.
The Sword Deity stood poised on his blade, sleeves billowing in the wind. Beneath him, Long Wei now hovered as well, his sword Tiān Míng glowing with celestial energy.
All was silent.
Thousands of soldiers below held their breath.
From the east, in the distance, unseen in the darkness, a small group of riders approached—Long Jie, unaware that his brother was about to face one of the most formidable cultivators in the region.
The Sword Deity's voice echoed through the valley.
"This duel will determine whether your army passes. One strike. One truth."
Long Wei raised his blade.
"Then let the heavens watch."
Their swords clashed—light and energy exploding in the sky like two stars colliding.
To be continued...