The Siege of the Capital The capital of Liwen had never known such silence.From the watchtowers of the outer wall, the city stretched below like a sleeping dragon its roofs slick with rain, its streets deserted, its great bronze gates closed for the first time in a century. Yet beneath that stillness, tension trembled like a drawn bowstring. Soldiers lined the battlements; civilians huddled in temples, praying to gods who had not answered in generations.And far beyond the horizon, thunder rolled not from storms, but from marching feet.Su Yu stood atop the western rampart, cloak whipping in the wind. He had returned from Yung Pass with half his strength gone, his armor dented and dulled. But his presence was enough. The moment he appeared, the frightened murmurs on the wall quieted. The Unyielding General had returned.Beside him, Lieutenant Mei tightened her gauntlet. “Scouts confirm it, sir. The Red Legion reaches the outer plains by nightfall.”“How many?” he asked.“Too many to

The Dawn EmperorThe wind carried the scent of burned iron and wet stone.Liwen had survived another battle, but not peace. The air still trembled with echoes of the deadcries that memory refused to bury.Su Yu sat in silence within the war tent. The maps before him were scarred with soot, the ink smudged by sleepless hands. Across from him, Mei stood with arms folded, waiting for him to speak.“Three days,” he said at last. “That’s all it took for them to regroup.”“They lost an entire vanguard,” Mei reminded him. “Most armies would take months.”“Kael is not most armies,” he said.A faint tremor passed through the ground, distant but steady. Su Yu glanced toward the tent flap, where light flickered red. The enemy’s signal fires burned again.That evening, a messenger arrived this time under a white flag, guarded by a single horseman. He carried a sealed scroll, marked with the imperial sunburst of Kael.Su Yu broke the seal and read silently. Mei leaned closer, trying to read his

The First Flame of BetrayalThe winter moon hung low over Liwen, pale as bone.Its light spilled through the cracks of the rebuilt city, painting silver veins over brick and dust. From afar, Liwen looked peaceful alive, reborn, whole again.But beneath that light, shadows moved. Quiet feet in alleyways. Secret meetings behind closed shutters. And words whispered in corners where loyalty once lived.The Phoenix Council had been born from fire. But now, its wings began to tremble.Su Yu had never liked councils.They spoke too much and listened too little.For days, he sat among them merchants, nobles, provincial lords, all eager to shape this “new Liwen” in their image. Their voices filled the great hall like restless birds, each crying of freedom, of justice, of their province’s “rightful influence.”“Without trade, Liwen cannot survive the winter,” said Lord Qian, a merchant whose wealth had survived every war.“And without unity,” Mei countered, “there will be no Liwen to trade with

SHADOWS OF THE CAPITALThe journey toward the capital began before the sun had fully risen, with mist still curling like thin silk around the mountain paths. Horses snorted quietly as soldiers saddled them, boots thudded against the stone courtyard, and the low rumble of preparations filled the air as though the fortress itself were breathing out one long, reluctant sigh.Su Yu stood near the stables, dressed in a simpler version of his battle attire dark armor plates stripped of ceremonial gold, traveling cloak tied at the shoulder, the crimson vow-cloth tied firmly around his wrist. His presence commanded a stillness even in the chaos. Every soldier passing him straightened instinctively, their steps gaining firmness simply because he existed.He had been in countless battles, countless negotiations, countless power struggles. But as he watched the citadel come alive for departure, he felt something beneath the surface an unease less about the journey and more about what awaited him

THREADS IN THE DARKDawn broke reluctantly, as if the sky itself hesitated to look upon what the night had left behind.The storm had not fully passed; its remnants clung to the air in a thick, heavy mist that curled through the forest like a ghost reluctant to leave. The shrine doors groaned as Su Yu pushed them open. Mud and wet leaves lined the steps. Birds gave only a few hesitant chirps before falling silent again.Everything felt watched.Su Yu stepped outside first. His boots sank into the softened earth, the air around him cold and sharp. He scanned the trees, every sense alert, every instinct on edge.The masked man’s visit lingered in his chest like a stone.Not fear Su Yu did not fear men.But recognition.Recognition of something he could not yet name, but could feel in his bones.Behind him, Linxue emerged from the shrine wrapped in the cloak he had given her. Her hair danced lightly in the mist; her eyes, though tired, remained steady. She walked to Su Yu’s side.“Any s