Chapter 140: The Fire That Burns Between Them All
Location: Imperial Capital – The Obsidian Pavilion
The sun had not yet risen.
But the Obsidian Pavilion, perched atop the imperial palace’s eastern cliffs, blazed with life.
Servants moved in silence, lighting lanterns of spiritual fire that burned without smoke. Veiled courtiers laid flower petals along the black-stone walkways. Musicians tuned their zithers. The Pavilion had not hosted a private banquet in over thirty years.
Today, it did.
And it was all for one man.
Hei Long.
The Empress had made the decree herself: "Let those bound to him be present. Let the truth rise with the sun."
Inside the Pavilion
Hei Long sat alone at the long table.
Not out of modesty.
But because no one dared sit beside him without invitation.
He wore no armor — only a simple black robe lined with blood-red thread. No title marked him, but the servants bowed like he was Emperor.
His gaze was quiet, his hands folded.
But his presence filled the room like a storm waiting to break.
And one by one, the women entered.
Yan Yiren – The First Flame
She entered barefoot.
Her long crimson robes trailed behind her like living fire. Her hair had been unbound for the occasion — an unspoken statement.
No crown.
No mask.
Only the woman who once died for him.
She sat across from Hei Long without a word.
Her eyes held a challenge, a question, and an ache too old for words.
Qingxue – The Sword at His Side
She entered like a blade drawn in silence.
Her robes were icy blue, her silver hair pinned into a tight coil. A sword rested against her back — ceremonial, but real.
She did not sit immediately.
She stood behind Hei Long, eyes locked on Yiren.
Yiren’s smile didn’t waver.
"You’re still standing behind him," she said softly.
"And you’re still trying to pull him back," Qingxue replied.
Hei Long didn’t move.
But his fingers twitched.
Zhao Yuran – The Alchemist’s Heart
Perfumed smoke preceded her.
Zhao Yuran entered in a sleeveless emerald gown, hair flowing, eyes lined with kohl, and a jade chain coiled around her wrist — the same chain Hei Long had once broken to save her.
She walked with grace.
But her eyes flicked between Yiren and Qingxue like measuring poisons in a vial.
"I was told this was a dinner," she said, voice sweet but sharp. "But it feels more like a war council."
"Don’t be dramatic," Yiren said. "Wars have rules."
"And you would know?" Yuran asked, taking a seat directly beside Hei Long.
Close. Intimate.
He didn’t stop her.
Qingxue’s grip on her blade tightened.
Mu Yexin – The Dreamwalker
She didn’t walk in.
She appeared.
One moment the seat was empty.
The next, she was there — barefoot, legs crossed, holding a wine cup made of illusion-glass that shimmered between forms.
"Am I late?" she asked. "Or simply unreal?"
"Both," said Qingxue.
"Neither," said Yuran.
"Perfect," said Yexin, sipping nothing.
Hei Long said nothing.
But when he glanced at her, Yexin’s illusion rippled. Her real eyes flashed behind it.
And for just a moment, he smiled.
Tension Filled the Pavilion
No words.
Just looks.
Just breathing.
Just decades of affection, jealousy, death, and longing crammed into one table.
Then Hei Long finally spoke.
One sentence.
One bomb.
"I’ve decided to name my Consort by the Lunar Festival."
Silence
Yiren’s eyes narrowed.
Qingxue didn’t move.
Yuran’s smile turned razor-sharp.
Yexin drank deeply from a cup that wasn’t there.
"Just one?" Yexin asked innocently.
"I will not lie to the people," Hei Long said. "An Empress must be named. The others... can remain close. But the world demands one name first."
"A competition, then," Yuran whispered.
"No," Qingxue said. "A reckoning."
"I already died for him," Yiren said, standing slowly. "Do you think I’ll let go now?"
"You didn’t die alone," Yexin said. "We all bled, sweetheart. You just got the ending first."
Then They All Spoke At Once
"I trained with him for six years—"
"He wept when I nearly died—"
"I carried his secrets—"
"I saw him before he became Hei Long—"
"I dreamt of him every night for three years—"
"I raised a city from ash with him—"
"I loved him when he had nothing—"
"I forgave him when he became a monster—"
Hei Long didn’t stop them.
He let them argue.
Let them bare teeth and scars and broken dreams.
Because he needed to know.
Who still wanted him for who he was — not what he became.
Then Yiren Stepped Forward
"You buried our child," she said. "I forgave you."
She reached out, her hand grazing his.
"You sealed my memories. I returned anyway."
She leaned in.
"You promised me fire."
And kissed his cheek.
"I want it back."
Qingxue Pulled Her Sword
Softly.
Silently.
And laid it across the table between them.
"I won’t beg," she said. "But if you name another before me—"
Her voice didn’t waver.
"I will carve a new title for myself."
Yuran Unclasped Her Chain
She set it on the table.
"I thought I could forget you," she said, smiling faintly. "Now I know I never want to."
She looked at him — not with hunger, not with demand.
But with ownership.
"I want to be the last thing you regret."
Yexin Laughed Softly
And her illusions swirled.
They formed a child’s face. A girl with both Yiren’s eyes and Hei Long’s hair.
"I saw the daughter we never met," she said.
"She called you ’Baba.’"
The illusion faded.
"I want to see you smile at me the way you smiled at her."
Hei Long Finally Stood
He walked to the center of the room.
All four women turned toward him, breath caught, eyes burning.
He reached into his sleeve—
—and pulled out a folded paper.
It bore no name.
Only one symbol: a black phoenix feather in gold ink.
He looked at them all.
And said:
"The final choice will be made... when we find her."
"Our daughter still lives."
"And I will not name an Empress until she sees the woman worthy of the title."
The Pavilion Fell Silent
The fire crackled.
The women exchanged glances.
The harem was no longer just a rivalry.
It was a trial.
A storm.
A legacy.
And the phoenix child — whoever she had become — was the judge.
. . . . . .
There were places in the empire that even the heavens refused to look upon.The Soul Forest was one of them.
A thousand years ago, it had been called the Womb of the World — where cultivation was born, where sages once meditated beneath trees as tall as towers, and where spirits wove fate like silk.
Now?
It was silent.
Lifeless.
Not dead.
Worse.
Abandoned.
Because the trees no longer grew leaves — only bones.The ground pulsed with qi so twisted it sang backward.And the wind whispered names no one remembered.
But Qingxue remembered one now.
"Daughter.""Hei Long’s child."
And if there was a place twisted enough to hide something that sacred...
It was here.
Qingxue’s Team
She didn’t come alone.
She chose them herself.
Handpicked.
Elite.
Loyal.
But most importantly — ignorant of her heart.
None knew of her jealousy.
None knew how her fingers trembled when she thought of Yiren.
They only knew their orders.
And followed them without question.
A healer.A formation specialist.A silent blade from the northern clans.And Qingxue — their leader, their sword, their shield.
She wore silver and midnight blue, hair bound tight, blade on her back.
And she carried one thing no one else knew about:
A crystal shard from the Obsidian Pavilion.
It pulsed faintly when she touched it — reacting only to descendants of the phoenix line.
Day One
They entered through the outer ring.
Nothing attacked them.
Nothing welcomed them.
But the forest changed shape with every step.
Trees they passed reappeared ahead.
Time rippled.
The sun didn’t rise or fall.
Qingxue marked their path with spiritual sigils — and watched as each one burned away after minutes.
"This place doesn’t like us," the healer whispered.
"No," Qingxue replied. "It doesn’t like truth."
Day Three
They found a pond of still water.
Perfectly clear.
Beneath it — bones of children.
Floating in lotus position.
And surrounding them: feathers.
Not white.
Not black.
Crimson-gold.
Like those from the Black Phoenix’s robes.
Qingxue knelt, drawing the crystal shard from her robes.
It pulsed violently.
"Is she here?" the blade whispered.
Qingxue didn’t answer.
Because in that moment — the water rippled.
A voice sang from it.
Not language.
Not chant.
A lullaby.
"Sleep, my fire...""Sleep through the stars...""Mother will wake you... when skies remember who you are..."
Qingxue nearly dropped the shard.
Not because it glowed.
But because she knew the song.
Hei Long had hummed it once.
Only once.
After nearly dying on a mission beside her.
He never said what it was.
Now she knew.
It was his daughter’s lullaby.
Nightfall
They made camp near the Hollow Tree — a trunk so large ten men could sleep inside it, though none dared.
Qingxue sat alone, polishing her blade.
The healer approached quietly.
"You’re not just here to find a girl," he said.
Qingxue didn’t look up.
"No."
"You think she’ll choose."
"I know she will."
The healer knelt.
"You love him."
"I’ve killed for him," she whispered. "And I would kill again."
He nodded.
Then asked, "And what if the girl... doesn’t choose you?"
Qingxue’s eyes didn’t move from the blade.
"She will."
And for the first time, she sounded more like Hei Long than herself.
Day Five – The Forest Moves
The trees rearranged.
The path split in seven.
Spiritual storms howled in unnatural directions.
One of her men vanished between heartbeats — no sound, no trace.
Another burst into flame, screaming a name he had never spoken before.
Qingxue pressed forward.
She had walked the Abyss Mountains.
She had killed her own master for treason.
But this?
This was different.
This was personal.
And the closer she got to the center...
...the more she began to see her reflection in the trees.
Bleeding.
Begging.
Losing.
The Heart of the Forest
They reached it on the seventh night.
The trees gave way to a glade of white ash.
At its center stood an altar — cracked, burned, half-buried.
Above it hovered a flame.
Not hot.
Not wild.
Steady.
Small.
Pure.
And floating within it — a girl.
Age? Impossible to tell.
Face? Blurred.
But her hair...
Silver, streaked with ember-red.
Her chest rose and fell.
Alive.
Sealed.
Sleeping.
The crystal shard blazed.
The healer gasped.
"She’s real."
Qingxue stepped forward.
But a barrier flared — throwing her back.
The flame pulsed.
And then—
A voice.
A child’s.
"Who... are you?"
Qingxue stood, heart racing.
"I’m... Qingxue. I knew your father."
Silence.
Then:
"Why did he leave me?"
Qingxue swallowed.
Because there was no good answer.
Only honesty.
"...Because he thought he had to."
"Did he forget me?"
"...No."
"Then why does he love them?"
Qingxue froze.
Because the voice was angry.
The flames darkened slightly.
She took a breath.
And said:
"Because he’s human."
"Because he’s broken."
"But if you wake up now... he’ll shatter just to kneel for you."
"You don’t need to forgive him."
"But you deserve to see what kind of man he’s become."
Silence again.
Then the flame pulsed warmly.
"Bring him."
"Then I will choose."
As Qingxue Turned to Leave
The healer asked, "She spoke?"
Qingxue nodded.
And for the first time since entering the forest... she smiled.
"She’s alive."
"And?"
"And she’s not a child anymore."
Back at the Imperial Capital — Days Later
Hei Long sat in the quiet of his garden when Qingxue returned.
She didn’t speak.
She knelt before him.
Presented the glowing shard.
"She’s waiting."
Hei Long held it.
And for the first time in years, he trembled.