Chapter 164: Counterstrike
The Decree
The Empress’s voice spread like a knife through silk. Another decree was posted before dawn, carved into jade plaques and carried through every street of the capital:
"Hei Long will stand trial — not of strength, but of loyalty. His flames will swear before the court whether they are his... or the empire’s."
No one misunderstood. It was not their swords the Empress sought to break this time. It was their bond.
The Court Gathers
The great hall was filled to breaking. Nobles in layered silks, sect masters with their disciples behind them, ministers fanning themselves nervously. The crowd was hungry for a fracture, for proof that the empire was not bending beneath one man’s shadow.
At the dais, the Empress sat enthroned, her veil crimson, her expression unreadable. Yan Yiren lingered at her side, her smile faint, her eyes sharp.
Hei Long entered without bowing, cloak trailing like shadow across the marble. Behind him walked Qingxue, Yexin, and Yuran — their faces pale, their eyes locked on him, not the court.
The Test
The High Judge spoke. "By Her Majesty’s will, the three companions of Hei Long will swear loyalty. If their vow binds to him, he is guilty of claiming hearts that should belong to the empire. If their vow binds to the throne, his form collapses, and his fire dies here."
The hall erupted in whispers. A perfect snare.
The Empress lifted her hand. Silence fell.
"Swear," she said.
Qingxue’s Choice
Leng Qingxue stepped forward first. She drew her blade, the steel singing as it left its sheath.
"My sword has never bent," she declared, her eyes fixed on Hei Long. "And I swear it will not bend to this court. I am his edge. Where he cuts, I cut."
Gasps echoed through the chamber. The Empress’s eyes narrowed.
Yexin’s Choice
Mu Yexin’s laughter rang next, sharp but trembling. "The empire offers me its stage, its throne, its crown." She snapped her fan shut and smirked at Hei Long. "But I choose him. Because no crown burns as hot as his shadow."
The hall erupted again, scandal rippling like fire.
Yuran’s Choice
Finally, Zhao Yuran stepped forward, her hands clasped, her eyes glistening with tears.
"They call me the weakest," she whispered, her voice trembling but steady. "And perhaps I am. But even so... I would rather be weak beside him than strong without him. I swear my breath to Hei Long."
The silence that followed was absolute.
The Verdict
All three had chosen him. The snare had closed — and snapped.
Hei Long lifted his gaze to the Empress, his voice calm, merciless. "You see? Not sparks. Not rivals. Fire. And fire bows to no throne."
The Empress’s lips curved faintly, but her eyes burned. "Then I will see if fire can survive without air."
And the hall trembled, as if the empire itself braced for the storm to come.
The great hall had expected fracture. It had expected betrayal. Instead, it witnessed defiance.Qingxue, Yexin, and Yuran had sworn not to throne or empire, but to Hei Long. The Empress’s trap had snapped, and in its snapping, it revealed just how tightly he held them.
The nobles whispered furiously, their jeweled fans trembling. Sect masters scowled into their sleeves, their disciples pale with disbelief. The empire itself seemed to lurch, as though a new center of gravity had been declared.
Hei Long stood unmoving, his cloak pooling like shadow across the marble. He did not need to speak to command the silence — but when he did, the air bowed to his words.
The Declaration
"You summoned them to choose," Hei Long said, his voice calm but merciless. "And they chose. You wanted to see if fire could be divided. You have seen instead that fire consumes."
He stepped forward, his shadow stretching to the Empress’s dais.
"They do not bend to you. They do not bend to the court. They bend only to me. And so long as I stand, their vow will never break. What you call rebellion, I call truth. What you call danger, I call inevitability."
Gasps broke through the hall. Nobles flinched. Sect masters lowered their eyes.
The Empress’s Smile
The Empress did not move. She leaned against her throne, her lips curving faintly beneath the crimson veil.
"You speak boldly, Hei Long. But fire burns brightest before it dies."
Her words were quiet, but they struck through the hall like thunder. She raised her hand, and soldiers shifted in their armor, their spears glittering with intent.
Hei Long did not flinch. His eyes glimmered as he looked at the soldiers, then back to her.
"Then let them come," he said softly. "And they too will learn to burn."
The Women
Behind him, Qingxue’s grip tightened on her blade, Yexin’s fan snapped open with a hiss, Yuran’s hands glowed faintly with spirit light. They were no longer rivals here — they were one flame, bound by his shadow, ready to defy an empire.
The Empress’s snare had not divided them. It had only set them closer, closer to the edge of open war.
And the court knew it.
The Empress’s hand rose above the crimson veil. Soldiers braced. Sect champions stepped forward, their weapons gleaming, their spirit auras rippling like banners.
"Seize him," she said softly. The words were quiet, but they carried like thunder through the hall.
Steel hissed free of scabbards. The air thickened with killing intent. The trap had been sprung — not of loyalty, but of blood.
Hei Long’s Stillness
Hei Long did not move. He stood at the center of the storm, cloak trailing like shadow, the cord at his wrist swaying. His eyes swept across the guards, across the champions, across the nobles who leaned forward in hunger to watch him fall.
"You see?" he murmured. "Fear does not wait. Fear strikes."
He raised his hand — and the women moved.
The Sword Unleashed — Qingxue
Leng Qingxue’s blade sang as it left its sheath, cutting through the first line of guards before their spears had leveled. Steel clashed against steel, sparks hissing against marble, but her stance never faltered.
"This blade bends for no throne!" she shouted, her strike carving the hall in two. Her eyes did not leave Hei Long’s shadow, her vow forged sharper with each blow.
The Fox in Fire — Yexin
Mu Yexin laughed as illusions spilled from her fan — a dozen Yexins darting across the battlefield, each one taunting, each one striking. The guards faltered, cutting at smoke, their ranks scattering.
"Come then!" she mocked, her voice rising above the chaos. "Let the empire see how easily it burns when it faces fire!"
Her illusions closed like jaws, and soldiers fell to their knees, blinded by the storm of her laughter.
The Healer’s Defiance — Yuran
Zhao Yuran stood trembling, but her hands glowed with spirit light. Every wound Qingxue took, every falter in Yexin’s breath, she steadied. Incense threads coiled like vines across the marble, wrapping around the feet of champions, dragging them down.
Her lips trembled, but her voice was steady. "If you would take him... you must pass through me first!"
Hei Long’s Step
The court was chaos — steel against flame, illusions against blood, the three women burning brighter than the throne had ever allowed. And still Hei Long had not moved.
At last, he stepped forward. His cloak swept across the hall, his gaze falling on the Empress herself.
"You tested loyalty. You tested unity. Now you test blood." His voice cut through the noise. "Then you will learn — fire cannot be caged."
He raised his hand.
The hall trembled.
And the court knew it was no longer trial. It was war.
The marble floor of the grand hall cracked under the weight of chaos. Steel clashed with steel, incense smoke curled through shattered banners, and illusions scattered across the chamber like fractured glass. The court, once an echo chamber of whispers and politics, had become a battlefield.
The Empress remained enthroned above it all, crimson veil unmoving, her soldiers and sect champions surging forward at her command. Yet the storm she had unleashed could not be contained.
The Three Flames
Qingxue fought like a storm at sea, her blade a silver arc that cut through spear lines and shattered shields. Pride drove her forward, but her eyes never left Hei Long’s shadow. As long as he stands, I will never falter.
Yexin danced amid illusions, her laughter ringing sharp and cruel as she split herself into a dozen mirages. Guards swung wildly, slashing smoke and phantoms, until her fan struck like a fox’s fang, snapping necks and scattering formations. Let them choke on my fire.
Yuran was no longer timid. Her threads of spirit light spread like vines across the floor, binding ankles, piercing gaps in armor. Every time Qingxue staggered, every time Yexin faltered, Yuran’s healing breath steadied them. Her hands shook, but her resolve did not. If he burns, I burn with him.
Hei Long’s Step
Hei Long had not moved until now. He had watched, cloak trailing across the floor, eyes unreadable. But as the hall drowned in fire and steel, he raised his hand.
The cord at his wrist glowed faintly, and the air stilled.
The champions lunged at once, their weapons gleaming. But with a single step forward, Hei Long’s presence pressed down upon the chamber. The marble groaned. Lanterns guttered. Even breath itself bent.
"You strike at fire," Hei Long said, voice calm, "but fire does not fall. Fire consumes."
The Break
With his words, the three women surged. Qingxue’s blade cut through the hammer of a sect master; Yexin’s illusions devoured the emerald flutist in her own melody; Yuran’s threads bound the spear champion, dragging him to his knees before her glow silenced his breath.
Gasps tore through the nobles. The sect masters recoiled.
The court’s trap had shattered.
The Empress Stands
At last, the Empress rose. Her veil swayed, her voice cutting through the chaos like steel.
"Enough."
The hall froze, as though the word itself carried divine weight. Guards hesitated, nobles bowed their heads, even the air seemed to still.
Her gaze met Hei Long’s across the carnage. For the first time, her lips curved into something sharper than a smile.
"You have chosen war," she said softly. "Then the empire will burn with you."
Hei Long did not bow. He did not retreat. His eyes gleamed like coals that had never known cold.
"So be it," he answered. "Let it burn."