The convoy moved steadily beneath a rising sun, horses kicking up clouds of dust along the winding road. Ye Tian, now eighteen, led the way, the long black cloak of the Ye Clan flowing behind him like a shadow in motion. Behind him rode his two wives and his sister — Mu Qingyao, Lan Yuhua, and Ye Xiuying — their positions close, protective, and deliberate.
Lan Yuhua, seventeen, leaned slightly toward him, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. "Dear," she murmured softly, the nickname gentle but teasing, a personal term born from long nights of shared confidence and quiet trust.
Mu Qingyao, nineteen, rode on the other side. Her hand rested lightly on his arm. "Husband," she said, warm, intimate, yet carrying the weight of respect, a title grown from shared battles and quiet nights together.
Ye Xiuying, fifteen, rode beside them, her eyes wide and eager, scanning the passing landscape. "Brother! Look! That merchant has a qilin colt for sale!" she exclaimed, tugging at Ye Tian's sleeve.
He cast her a brief, dry glance, a corner of his lips twitching. "Focus, Xiuying. Curiosity can get you killed."
She pouted but laughed lightly, knowing her brother would never truly scold her.
The convoy's first few days passed quietly. Ye Tian walked through the camp each evening, checking the arrangements, ensuring the Nightshade Hall operatives hidden among their ranks remained unseen but vigilant. Though only a fraction of the surrounding world noticed them, his eyes cataloged every detail: paths, travelers, potential threats.
At night, the tent was a different kind of territory. Small touches, whispers, and fleeting kisses threaded through the shared warmth. Lan Yuhua rested her head against his shoulder, fingers brushing the back of his hand as if asking permission to stay close. Mu Qingyao leaned into his side, eyes glimmering in the lamplight. Hints of their private nights lingered in the way hair clung to him, the quiet satisfaction in shared smiles, the faint flush of their cheeks when no one else watched.
"You're quiet tonight," Lan Yuhua murmured, nestling closer.
Ye Tian brushed back her hair with a tender flick. "I'm thinking of the days to come — the competition, the challenges… but having you both with me makes it easier."
Mu Qingyao let out a soft sigh, her hand resting over his. "It doesn't matter what comes… as long as we're together."
Ye Tian allowed a small smile. "Together," he agreed, eyes scanning the horizon beyond the tent.
By the third day, the City of Blades appeared on the horizon, its walls rising tall, imposing, and unmistakable. Lanterns and banners fluttered even from this distance, and the hum of city activity reached them across the plains.
Ye Xiuying, unable to contain herself, leaned forward, voice full of energy. "Brother, look! The city! Look at the gates!"
He allowed a faint smile, adjusting the reins. "Patience. The world is larger than you imagine, and full of eyes. We move carefully."
Lan Yuhua chuckled softly. "We've traveled so far together… it feels like nothing can touch us."
Mu Qingyao leaned closer, her voice low and soft. "Because we have you, husband."
The convoy entered the city gates in quiet precision. Merchants and travelers paused, measuring the presence of the Ye Clan, the subtle authority that accompanied their leader. Disciples and Nightshade operatives silently reinforced the path, the title Patriarch echoing quietly as their escort fell in line.
Inside the inn reserved for their delegation, Ye Tian oversaw arrangements, ensuring their accommodations were secure and unobtrusive. Later, as night fell, the city streets filled with the hum of distant conversations, clanging of training swords, and murmurs of cultivators preparing for the Dragon Phoenix Competition.
Ye Tian stood by the window, gazing at the city lights. Mu Qingyao approached, laying her hand lightly on his shoulder. "Patriarch… we'll stand with you through everything," she said softly.
Lan Yuhua pressed close, the warmth of her body brushing his side. "And I'll make sure everyone knows who the Nightlord is," she whispered, a teasing, intimate note in her voice.
Ye Tian turned to them, lips curling faintly. "Then let them know. Let them whisper. We will show them why the night obeys me."
Outside, the city prepared for the competitions. Inside the inn, three figures rested close to one another, their bonds strengthened by shared trust, quiet intimacy, and the unspoken knowledge that whatever came next, they would face it together.
The Dragon Phoenix Competition awaited. And Ye Tian — Patriarch to his disciples, Nightlord to his wives, shadow among shadows — would step into it with all eyes on him, and yet none would know the full measure of his power until the first move was made.