All Chapters of The return of the Kirin Heir : Chapter 151
- Chapter 160
202 chapters
The Midnight Accord
The moon hung low over the Eastern Marshlands, cloaked in drifting mist. On a rocky plateau ringed by spirit stones, a dozen figures gathered in silence, cloaked in shadows and secrecy. This was not a court of nobles, but a war council of outcasts.Yunlei stood at the center, the Edict scroll wrapped in starlight on his back. Beside him, Yunxian’s armor bore the sigil of a cause not yet born—a Kirin surrounded by lotus petals, blazing like the dawn.To their left, Elder Su of the Skyless Monks bowed, his eyes blind but seeing more than most. “We have waited a century for a spark. The Edict is more than prophecy—it is purpose.”To their right, General Ma Teng of the Jade Rebels folded her arms. “If we move too soon, the Cloud Court will strike without hesitation. They’ve already tightened the borders across the Nine Peaks. Martial law.”“And the Flame Court has recalled its sentinels from the West,” growled Master Ren of the Stormforged Guild. “They know something’s coming.”“They alwa
The Sovereign's Gambit
The Infernal Warden's roar shook the heavens. Trees snapped. Stones split. The very mist that had cloaked the plateau was vaporized in a rush of heat and hatred. As the beast surged forward—twenty feet of bone, flame, and chained judgment—the Accord responded.Yunlei met the charge head-on.He leapt into the air, golden aura flaring like a second sun. With a thunderous strike, he drove his palm into the Warden’s skull. The impact cracked the creature’s forward momentum—but not its purpose.The Warden howled, and a whip of molten shadow lashed from its tail, tearing a trench through the gathered factions. Dozens fell back, shields raised, defensive barriers flaring under the onslaught.“Scatter!” shouted General Ma Teng. “Don’t cluster!”Yunxian was already moving. He circled to the creature’s blind side, his dual sabers dancing with frostfire. Each strike cut into the Warden’s limbs—not to kill, but to bleed power, to drain its tether to the Sovereigns’ command seal.Meanwhile, Yara v
Blood on the Golden Steps
The grand stairway leading up to the Imperial Sanctum had once symbolized unity. Hewn from golden stone veined with starlight essence, it had borne the footsteps of Sovereigns and sages for millennia. Today, it bore blood.Corpses littered the lower steps—Court enforcers in lacquered armor, rebels in mismatched gear, scattered like discarded offerings to a forgotten god. Smoke curled from fractured torches. The scent of scorched silk and cold steel hung thick.Yunxian stood at the base of the steps, wiping crimson from his sabers. His breathing was even, but his eyes were distant.“They keep coming,” he muttered. “Like ants guarding a corpse.”Yara emerged from the side passage, her cloak torn, one eye bruised. “That’s because the corpse still breathes. Barely.”From behind them, Yunlei ascended, his robes burned in places but his spirit unshaken. “Then we finish the job. Today, the Crimson Throne falls.”General Ma Teng and a dozen elite fighters from the Northern Reaches fanned out,
The Ash Pact
The golden steps still glistened with blood as the dust of battle began to settle. Above, where the sky once burned crimson under Sovereign dominion, a soft blue stretched toward the horizon. It felt unreal. A world unshackled. But freedom had a bitter aftertaste.Inside the shattered Sanctum, Yunlei stood amidst ruins. The Heaven-Tethered Core was gone—its destruction had disrupted centuries of arcane governance and divine surveillance. Yet the void it left behind was more than spiritual; it was political. A hundred clans, courts, and alliances would soon scramble to fill it.Zhao Qixuan approached, bloodied but calm. “You bought us this moment, Lei. But we’ll lose it just as fast if we don’t move.”Yunlei nodded. “Where’s Yara?”“Already moving. She’s securing the archives below the Sanctum.”Yunxian jogged in, his clothes torn, sabers slung across his back. “Ma Teng is rallying the Accord survivors at the old Ministerial Square. Northern forces are holding for now.”“Good,” Yunlei
A Council in the Ruins
Dawn crept over the shattered skyline of the capital, spilling light across scorched rooftops and broken spires. Smoke still curled from distant fires, and the streets were quiet in a way that felt too fragile to last. But in the heart of the city—within the skeletal remains of the Ministry Hall—a gathering stirred with purpose.Yunlei stood beneath the open sky, facing a semicircle of figures seated in hastily erected chairs. This was no royal court. There were no banners, no gilded pillars, no whispered protocols. Only a circle of power formed by necessity, and the faint scent of ash.Yara stood behind him, arms folded, gaze sweeping the room. Beside her, Zhao Qixuan leaned on a crutch—his injuries bound but not healed. Yunxian paced slowly, hand resting on one of his sabers. Even now, he didn’t trust the silence.Representatives from the surviving sects and rebel factions sat before them: Mei of the Ash Sect, her gray robes soaked in morning dew; Master Liao of the Dawnblade Temple
Ships of the Exiled Sea
The wind howled over the eastern cliffs, carrying the salt-sting of the sea and something far less familiar—smoke. A black plume curled into the sky where no smoke should be. Below it, along the ragged coastline known as Ghost Widow’s Edge, ships unlike any the coastward sentries had seen before glided into hidden coves—low, angular vessels with dark sails and no banners.Yunlei stood at the edge of the precipice, boots braced against loose stone, his sharp eyes locked on the horizon.“Exiled ships,” Yunxian muttered behind him, voice laced with contempt. “I’d bet my blade on it.”“The Sea Tribes don’t use this design,” Yara added. “And look there—no flags, no signals. They’re here to disappear.”Zhao Qixuan approached, scroll in hand. “The rider from Pinefall Outpost says five ships made landfall last night. No resistance. Two of our scouts are missing. And...”He paused, gaze tightening.“And what?” Yunlei asked.“One of the recovered scout bodies had their spine shattered—from the
The Bone Lantern Path
The moon hung low and blood-bright as the group rode beneath the Whispering Pines, a haunted stretch of forest older than dynasties. Yunlei led the way, torchlight flickering against damp bark and stone-carved warding sigils barely visible beneath centuries of moss. This was the Bone Lantern Path—a forbidden route spoken of only in the whispers of exiled archivists and half-mad monks.“The air feels... thin,” Yara murmured.“It’s not the air,” Mei replied. “This path hasn’t seen living feet in decades. The forest remembers.”Zhao leaned heavily on his new staff, carved hastily from spiritwood. “Remind me again why we aren’t sending a detachment of warpriests instead?”“Because we’re not just looking for a fight,” Yunlei answered. “We’re looking for a key—something the Exiles want. And the last record of it led here.”They passed ancient trees warped with embedded bones—some human, others less identifiable. In the distance, ghostly lights shimmered like lost souls. The Bone Lanterns: d
The Drowned Vault
The stairway of bone and light spiraled downward into the earth, a tunnel older than recorded time. Each step Yunlei took echoed as though striking against memory itself. The walls pulsed faintly with spiritual energy—threads of ancient enchantment, raw and unfiltered. The deeper they descended, the colder it became. Not merely cold of temperature, but a spiritual chill that gnawed at resolve.They emerged into a vast subterranean chamber—vaulted, circular, its walls lined with drowned bookshelves of petrified wood and crystal scroll tubes. At the center lay a great pool of still, black water, perfectly round, rimmed with silver stones etched in the Kirin script.“The Drowned Vault,” Zhao Qixuan whispered, reverently. “This is where the Architects buried the forbidden knowledge.”Mei paced slowly, her eyes scanning the stone sigils. “More than forbidden. Cursed. There’s no moisture anywhere but this pool. It’s not natural.”Yunxian frowned. “Is that... breathing?”Indeed, the water in
Blood on Frozen Stone
The wind atop Mount Caelum howled like a grieving god. Frosted spires stretched toward the heavens, wrapped in centuries of ice and forgotten oaths. Beneath those frozen teeth lay the ruins of the Astral Chorus—a monastery built when the world was still raw and magic untempered.Yunlei stood at the foot of a broken staircase, his breath curling visibly in the air. Snow whipped around him, each flake a blade. His cloak, thick with seal-stitched layers, barely shielded him from the cold. Behind him, his team trudged through the whiteout—Yunxian with a shoulder wound from the Vault battle, Yara limping from a cracked shinbone, Zhao hollow-eyed but alive.“This place hates qi,” Mei muttered, her voice muffled through frostbitten lips. “It drinks it. I can’t feel my core.”“That’s the point,” Yunlei said. “The Astral Chorus trained monks in the art of spiritual silence. No illusions. No enhancement. Just raw truth.”Zhao pointed ahead. “There. The gate.”Twin statues of weeping monks flank
Verdict by Flame
The snow hissed where the Tribunal emissary stood, the frost beneath his feet melting to reveal stone etched with ancient runes. His robes of ash and gold swayed in the mountain breeze, untouched by cold. He didn’t wear a sword. He didn’t need one.Yunlei stepped forward, the Meridian Star still glowing faintly beneath his ribs. “You said the Tribunal has arrived. But the Tribunal disbanded a hundred years ago after the Eastern Cleansing.”The emissary turned to face him fully. His eyes were voids—deep wells of firelight and sorrow. “You misunderstand. The Tribunal never disbanded. We simply fell silent... until justice cried loud enough to awaken us.”Ruoqin sneered, her glaive humming with raw qi. “So the old dogs crawl back from their crypts. You think we’ll bow to dusty relics?”The emissary raised a single hand.From the sky descended seven burning seals, each shaped like an eye, each bearing a name. Yunlei recognized the symbols—ancient verdict runes from the Third Epoch. They h