Chapter 156: The Empress’s Net
The Court Summons
By evening, the palace was a furnace of light. Dozens of lanterns burned in every corridor, casting gold across marble and jade. The Empress’s summons had been short, her seal pressed in black wax. There was no explanation, no courtesy. She never gave either.
Hei Long walked the length of the crimson carpet toward the High Throne. His steps were steady, each one echoing through the chamber as nobles lined the sides. They whispered as he passed. They whispered about him, about the three women who trailed like shadows wherever he went, about the garden at night and the storm it had birthed.
The Empress sat above them all, veiled in silk as red as blood. She lifted her hand and the hall fell silent.
"General Hei Long," she said, her voice cool and heavy, "your name has grown too quickly. Your shadow stretches beyond the battlefield now."
Hei Long bowed, expression unreadable. "Then perhaps the shadow grows because the throne demands a taller flame."
Murmurs rippled. The Empress’s lips curved faintly, though her eyes gave nothing.
The Question
"You are followed," she continued. "Not by soldiers, nor by courtiers. By women."
The words were sharp, each one measured.
"You know what they call you now? Not just the Black Phoenix’s blade. They call you the man of three. A household bound not by law, but by hunger. And hunger spreads."
The nobles shifted uncomfortably, but no one dared speak.
The Empress leaned forward. "So tell me, Hei Long. Are you building a house... or a rebellion?"
Hei Long’s Answer
The silence after her question stretched long.
Hei Long raised his head slowly, meeting her eyes with a calm that unsettled even the throne itself.
"Neither," he said. His voice was low, but the words filled the chamber. "I am building inevitability."
The Empress studied him, her fingers tapping once against the throne’s armrest. Then she laughed—light, cruel, and cold.
"In that case, General, I will watch. Let us see if your inevitability consumes you... or consumes the empire first."
She lifted her hand again. The audience was dismissed.
Meanwhile — The Garden Burns
While Hei Long faced the Empress, the women left behind had not remained still.
The courtyard where plum blossoms had fallen now shook with harsh voices.
Qingxue and Yexin stood opposite each other, sparks in their eyes, while Yuran lingered between them like a calm tide threatening to flood.
"You stole from me," Qingxue spat. "You kissed him as though it was yours to take."
Yexin’s grin was sharp, merciless. "And you think your trembling lips made him yours? Don’t make me laugh."
Yuran’s voice cut between them, soft but undeniable. "You’re both wrong. He doesn’t belong to either of you. He belongs to himself. And yet—" Her hand clenched at her chest. "We can’t stop wanting him anyway."
The petals fell around them as if mocking their war.
Two Fires, One Storm
When Hei Long returned from the Empress’s court, he found them waiting, faces flushed, eyes wild with jealousy and longing. None spoke, but the truth was already written in the air.
The storm he had unleashed no longer smoldered.
It was fire.
And Hei Long, calm as ever, stepped into the blaze without hesitation.
The Training Ground
The clash did not happen in words this time.
By the following day, the palace training ground bore witness to the storm Hei Long had set loose. The air shimmered with heat, incense smoke curling above warding runes etched into stone. Guards stood at the edges, unwilling to interfere, eyes wide with the knowledge that what they saw was not a sanctioned duel, but something far more dangerous.
Leng Qingxue stood at one end of the circle, her blade drawn, her expression as calm as a frozen lake. Opposite her, Mu Yexin smiled, her fan snapping open with a flick that was more taunt than preparation.
Between them, Zhao Yuran remained still, hands folded into her sleeves, but her presence heavier than steel.
Sparks at the Edge
"You wanted to fight for him?" Yexin’s voice cut across the silence. "Then fight me. Let’s see if your ice can smother fire."
Qingxue’s gaze narrowed. "I don’t need to prove myself to you."
"Then why are you here?" Yexin grinned. "Because you can’t stand the thought of me winning."
Yuran stepped forward, her tone steady but sharp. "You both shame yourselves. Hei Long is not a prize. He is—"
Qingxue cut her off, voice trembling with suppressed fury. "He’s mine to protect."
"Mine to claim," Yexin hissed back.
And then the circle exploded into movement.
Blades and Illusions
Qingxue’s blade cut arcs of silver light, each strike swift, precise, merciless. Yexin danced between them, fan glowing faintly with spiritual energy, her movements fluid, mocking, too close to laughter. Steel kissed silk, sparks hissed across the runes, and the crowd gasped at every exchange.
Yuran did not draw a weapon. She moved between them, her hands glowing faintly as she diverted their strikes, forcing them back. Every step she took was a refusal to let the storm consume them — and yet, her restraint was the most terrifying of all.
"Enough!" she shouted, voice carrying through the ground like thunder.
But neither Qingxue nor Yexin stopped.
Hei Long Appears
The duel might have gone too far, but the storm broke before blood could spill.
Hei Long’s shadow fell across the circle. He hadn’t announced himself; he hadn’t needed to. His mere presence froze the fight mid-motion — Qingxue’s blade stopping inches from Yexin’s throat, Yexin’s fan poised to strike, Yuran’s hands raised in futility.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Hei Long stepped into the circle, cloak sweeping the dust, his eyes unreadable.
"You mistake desire for strength," he said, his voice low. "You mistake jealousy for loyalty. You forget yourselves."
His gaze swept across them, leaving each one trembling in a different way.
"If you wish to fight," he continued, "then fight for me — not against each other."
And with that, he turned, walking away without waiting for their answer.
Aftermath
The women stood frozen in the circle, their breaths shallow, their pride in ruins.
Qingxue’s knuckles whitened on her hilt. Yexin’s smirk faltered, her chest heaving. Yuran’s lips parted as though to speak, but no words came.
Hei Long’s shadow lingered even after he was gone, heavier than chains, binding them together in silence.
They had crossed a line again.
And they all knew the next one would break something that could never be mended.
Hei Long Chooses
That night, the tension in the palace had not lessened. If anything, the duel had left the air raw and volatile, every glance between the women sharp enough to wound. The servants whispered, avoiding eye contact, careful not to linger.
Hei Long did not summon them all. He summoned only one.
Zhao Yuran.
When she entered his private chambers, the lamplight painted her in soft gold. She hesitated at the threshold, uncertain if she had been called to be rebuked or something far more dangerous.
"Sit," Hei Long said, his tone low but commanding.
She obeyed, folding herself neatly across from him. For a long while he said nothing, pouring tea with his usual precision. The silence was unbearable.
Finally, Yuran’s hands trembled where they rested in her lap. "If this is about the duel, I—"
Hei Long cut her off. "You held yourself back."
Her breath caught. "...Yes."
"You could have stopped them. You didn’t."
She lowered her eyes. "Because I wanted to see what they would do."
Hei Long leaned forward, his presence pressing down on her like a storm. "And what did you see?"
Yuran swallowed hard. "...That they’ll burn everything just to stand closer to you."
The Kiss That Wasn’t Mercy
For a moment, Hei Long said nothing. His eyes studied her, as though peeling away every layer until only truth remained. Then, without warning, he reached across the table, his hand cupping her chin.
Yuran froze, her breath trapped in her chest.
"You spoke truest," Hei Long murmured. "So I’ll give you this."
His lips brushed hers — not tentative, not testing. A kiss that was steady, assured, final. Yuran’s eyes fluttered shut, her heart breaking and mending all at once beneath the weight of it.
When he pulled back, her body trembled. "Why me?" she whispered.
Hei Long released her, leaning back. His expression unreadable, his voice steady. "Because you endured. And because they’ll feel it."
Yuran’s eyes widened as the meaning sank in. This wasn’t only for her. It was a move in a larger game.
And yet... she couldn’t stop the tears that slipped free.
The Watching Shadows
Neither of them knew they had been seen.
From the courtyard beyond the lattice screen, Qingxue stood frozen, her fists clenched so tightly her nails drew blood. Yexin leaned casually against the wall beside her, though her smirk did little to hide the tightness in her jaw.
"Well," Yexin whispered, voice low and venomous, "it seems our healer has sharper claws than we thought."
Qingxue said nothing. Her silence was louder than any curse.
And in that silence, the fragile balance between them cracked again.