The moon was pale, hidden behind ragged clouds like a fearful eye watching the chaos below.
Li Tianming stumbled through the fog-choked forest. His breath came ragged, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Behind him, a trail of scorched earth and shattered trees marked where he had fought the Shadow Wraith—an entity conjured by the Elders of the Obsidian Sect to end him.
He gritted his teeth, hand gripping the broken hilt of the Crimson Heaven Blade. Half of its once-glorious edge had been shattered in the battle. Now it hummed softly, its spirit wounded but not dead.
He muttered, "Not yet. I'm not dying here. Not before I reach her."
A memory clawed its way through the haze of pain: her eyes—silver and fierce, filled with a fire that refused to die. She had been taken. Not by enemies, but by fate itself.
As he collapsed near the foot of an ancient tomb, vines parting as if recognizing him, a voice echoed in his ears. Not from the outside world—no, this voice came from the blade itself.
> "The Tomb of the First Emperor... Why have you come here, Descendant of Ashes?"
Li Tianming forced himself upright, staring at the stone doors before him. Glyphs older than time shimmered faintly on their surface, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"I need strength. I need the truth." His voice was hoarse, but steady. "The world thinks I'm dead. That's fine. Let them think that. But I will rise again—not for vengeance, but for justice."
A cold wind stirred the trees. The tomb responded.
> "Then enter… but know this—inside lies not salvation, but the weight of your second life."
The doors opened.
---
In the depths of the tomb, Li Tianming descended staircase after staircase, each step heavy with memory. Etchings on the walls showed visions of war, of emperors who rose and fell, of betrayals carved into the bones of the earth.
And then he found it—a chamber lined with mirrors. Each reflected not his body, but versions of himself. Some were kings. Some monsters. One smiled back at him with crimson eyes and a crown of bone.
"Who… are you?" he whispered.
The reflection spoke.
> "I'm the you that chose power over mercy. And I won."
Suddenly, a mirror shattered.
A voice—hers—echoed in the chamber. "Tianming…"
He turned sharply. "Xue'er?!"
But there was nothing. Just the wind… or was it a whisper?
---
Outside, the world continued to forget the fallen emperor.
But inside the tomb, Li Tianming took a step forward into the unknown, broken blade in hand, resolve burning brighter than ever.
He would rise.
But the question was—as what?
End of chapter 29