Chapter 163: The Empress’s Snare
A Court Uneasy
The empire had not slept. Ministers whispered in corridors, sect masters debated in private halls, and servants carried gossip like coals on their tongues. Three women bound by one man. It was no longer just a scandal. It was a threat.
The Triune Synthesis had proved more than theory — it had bent the court itself. The nobles saw the balance shifting, and fear crawled behind their jeweled masks.
The Empress in Red
The Empress sat in her private chamber, veils of crimson silk swaying with the night breeze. Her eyes were calm, too calm, as if she watched the court’s panic with the detachment of a hawk circling prey.
Yan Yiren stood beside her, hands folded, her face composed but her eyes sharp.
"He’s bound them tighter," Yiren murmured. "Even jealousy works in his favor. The women fight for him, not against him. The court expected a fracture. Instead, he built a wall."
The Empress’s lips curved faintly. "Walls crack. I will test its mortar."
The Counterstroke
She took up a brush, dipped it in black ink, and began to write a decree. The characters were sharp, each stroke a blade.
"Hei Long is commanded to present his three flames before the Imperial Temple of Harmony. Each shall undergo trial alone. Only one may emerge acknowledged by the heavens."
The Empress’s hand stilled. She looked at Yiren.
"He wove them together. I will unravel them apart. If they break under divine eyes, the world will see his inevitability was nothing but smoke."
"And if they do not break?" Yiren asked softly.
The Empress’s eyes darkened. "Then I will know the fire he commands is not mortal. And I will strike myself."
Whispers Spread
By dawn, the decree had spread. The palace buzzed louder than bees, the city more restless than the river in flood.
The Empress herself would test them. Not steel against steel. Not court against ambition. But the heavens against Hei Long’s claim.
The nobles whispered eagerly: They will fracture. They must.
And in the northern wing, where lanterns had guttered out but the air still carried the weight of last night’s fire, three women heard the decree.
None spoke at first. But their hearts answered the same:
If I falter, I lose him.
The Approach
The Imperial Temple of Harmony loomed above the city like a crown of stone and jade. Its pillars gleamed with inscriptions carved by hands long dead, every stroke pulsing faintly with ancient divinity. Bells tolled low and heavy, echoing through the valley, summoning nobles, sect masters, and commoners alike.
The Empress’s decree had spread like fire, and now all eyes turned toward the temple gates.
Hei Long arrived first, his cloak trailing across the steps, the cord at his wrist swaying like a pendulum of inevitability. Behind him, three women followed — Leng Qingxue with her blade sheathed at her hip, Mu Yexin with her fan tucked beneath her sleeve, Zhao Yuran with her sleeves drawn tight around trembling hands.
The crowd’s whispers broke like waves.
"Three flames... one man...""They will fracture here. The heavens will not lie."
Hei Long did not answer. His silence was a blade sharper than words.
The Empress’s Gaze
At the highest dais, the Empress sat enthroned, veils of crimson silk framing her face. Yan Yiren stood behind her, her expression serene, her eyes unreadable.
"Watch closely," the Empress murmured. "Mortals burn quickly. I want to see if his fire endures."
Yiren inclined her head. "And if it does?"
The Empress’s lips curved faintly. "Then I will strike myself."
The First Trial — Qingxue
The High Keeper of the temple struck the gong. "Leng Qingxue. Step forward."
The swordswoman obeyed, her blade gleaming in the temple’s divine light. She stepped into the circle inscribed upon the floor, and instantly the air changed.
Shadows gathered into the shape of her greatest fear: a mirror of herself, broken and bleeding, her blade shattered at her feet.
You are nothing without steel, the shadow whispered. And steel cannot love you.
Qingxue’s jaw clenched. She lifted her sword, her spirit fire burning. "If steel breaks, then I will stand with nothing. And still, he will see me."
She struck once. The shadow dissolved into ash.
The crowd gasped. The trial had acknowledged her.
The Second Trial — Yexin
"Mu Yexin. Step forward."
The fox-eyed woman sauntered into the circle, her smile too sharp, her fan flicking open. But when the light closed around her, illusions rose — not hers, but the temple’s.
Dozens of Yexins surrounded her, all laughing, all mocking. You are trickery, nothing more. When the mask falls, there is nothing beneath.
For a heartbeat, her laughter faltered. But then she snapped her fan shut.
"If mask and trick are all I am," she said, "then I’ll make even the heavens jealous of them."
She twirled, her illusions colliding with the temple’s until only one remained — herself, unmasked, smiling through tears.
The trial dimmed. She had passed.
The Third Trial — Yuran
"Zhao Yuran. Step forward."
The healer walked slowly, her steps heavy. The circle closed, and light wrapped around her until she stood alone. Before her appeared Hei Long — not real, but a shadow, his eyes cold, his voice merciless.
You are nothing but hands to heal. You are the weakest of them. He kissed you only to wound the others.
Her knees trembled. Tears welled in her eyes. But she pressed her palms together, whispering, "Even if that is true... I will stay. Even if it breaks me, I will remain."
The shadow dissolved into light. The trial ended.
The temple bells tolled. She had passed.
One Flame
All three women stood again before Hei Long, flushed, trembling, victorious. The Empress’s eyes narrowed as the crowd roared. What should have broken them had only bound them tighter.
Hei Long stepped forward, his cloak sweeping across the floor, his voice low but inexorable.
"You see? Not three. One. With me, you are not sparks. You are fire."
The Empress’s lips curved into the faintest smile. "For now," she murmured.
A Smile Behind Silk
The trials at the Temple had ended with thunderous bells, with three women standing unbroken where the Empress had expected collapse. She had hidden her disappointment well — but not entirely. Beneath the crimson veil, her smile had been too thin, her eyes too sharp.
Back in her private chamber, she shed the veil and let the weight of silence settle. Yan Yiren remained by her side, pouring tea into cups neither of them touched.
"He held them together," the Empress said at last. "Jealousy did not undo them. Even the heavens bent."
Yiren’s lips curved faintly. "That is what makes him dangerous, isn’t it? He does not merely bind — he reforges. And they let him."
The Empress’s fingers tapped once against the arm of her throne. "Then I will not test them again. I will divide them."
The New Snare
At her command, messengers scattered into the night. By dawn, three separate summons had been delivered, sealed with the Black Phoenix sigil.
Each bore the same message:
"You are invited to a private audience with the Empress. Come alone. Speak nothing of this to the others."
Qingxue read the parchment in silence, her jaw tightening. Yexin laughed aloud when she broke the seal, though her eyes flickered with unease. Yuran pressed the letter to her chest as though it might burn her hands.
None of them spoke of it, but all three felt the same fracture: Why me, and not the others?
Hei Long’s Stillness
Hei Long received no summons.
He did not need one.
Sitting once more on the northern balcony, cloak trailing across the stone, he let the wind carry whispers of the Empress’s move to him. The cord at his wrist swayed, measuring inevitability.
"So," he murmured, eyes narrowing, "she changes the game. She seeks to pluck threads one by one."
The faintest smile touched his lips.
"Let her. A fire does not vanish when scattered. It spreads."
Qingxue — The Blade in Silk
Leng Qingxue entered the crimson-draped chamber like a soldier on foreign soil, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade even as protocol demanded she bow. The Empress did not rise; she simply tilted her head, eyes gleaming.
"You are strong," the Empress said softly. "But strength bound to another man’s will is wasted. Tell me, Qingxue — when Hei Long falls, will you fall with him? Or will you stand beside me, unbroken?"
The words sank like a blade in her chest. For a heartbeat, Qingxue imagined it: herself, free of rivals, her sword not for Hei Long but for the throne.
Her pride whispered: Why should I kneel to him?
But her heart burned: Because without him, I am ash.
Qingxue bowed deeper, her voice cold. "I am his sword. Even if he burns, I burn with him."
The Empress’s smile did not falter, but her eyes sharpened. "So be it. Then when the blade breaks, it will be his ruin, not mine."
Yexin — The Fox in Chains
Mu Yexin entered with laughter already on her lips, her fan snapping open with a flourish. She bowed exaggeratedly, as though mocking formality itself.
The Empress’s voice was smooth. "You love fire, don’t you? To burn brighter than the rest. Hei Long binds you, yet you know you could have the court instead. I could crown you not as flame, but as sun."
For a heartbeat, Yexin faltered. The offer was sweet — too sweet. A stage larger than Hei Long’s balcony, an audience broader than his shadow.
But then she remembered his hand tightening the ribbon at her wrist, his silence breaking her laughter.
Her smirk returned. "Tempting, Your Majesty. But I’ve already chosen my stage. And it isn’t this throne room."
The Empress’s eyes narrowed. "Then burn. But know that foxes who play too close to the sun always die laughing."
Yuran — The Healer’s Resolve
Zhao Yuran knelt so low her forehead nearly touched the floor. She trembled not from fear, but from the weight of the Empress’s gaze.
"You are the weakest of them," the Empress said. "And yet you are the most dangerous. A healer’s hand steadies more than wounds — it steadies hearts. Tell me, Yuran: why him? Why chain yourself to a man who uses you as fuel?"
Her tears threatened, but she did not raise her head. "Because even if I am fuel, I will burn where he stands. I do not need to be more. I only need to remain."
For a long moment, silence pressed down. Then the Empress leaned back, her voice quiet but cutting. "Then you are already broken."
The Empress Alone
When the women had gone, the Empress sat back in her throne, her fingers drumming lightly against the armrest. None had bent. None had betrayed him.
"Interesting," she murmured.
Yan Yiren stepped from the shadows. "You tested their loyalty. And instead you tested his grip."
The Empress’s eyes glimmered like steel. "Then the next snare will not tempt. It will cut."
And in that moment, the palace itself seemed to shiver — as though it too feared what she would weave next.