The forest had returned to an uneasy calm, but Jeng Minh could feel the tension clinging to the mist like a second skin. His body still throbbed with the lingering effects of the Chainbearer's attack, but the pulse of the chain inside him no longer felt foreign. Instead, it hummed like a dormant engine, eager to be fully awakened.
Feng rode up beside him, wiping sweat from his brow. "My lord… that was unlike anything I've ever seen. Your spear moved as if it had a mind of its own. Even Zhou Chen's men would have been stunned."
Jeng Minh let out a low chuckle, though it was tinged with fatigue. "It felt like the spear wasn't mine… but it was. The chain guided it, and I followed."
Xie Yaling remained behind him, silent, though her eyes flickered with a mix of admiration and wariness. "You've awakened something," she said finally. "But don't think the empire will wait for you to master it. Every day you delay, the Emperor sends another blade—or spy—after you."
Bai Ye's presence was quiet, almost ethereal, riding at the front. "You understand now," he said. "The chain does not just awaken strength—it awakens awareness. You sense danger before it arrives, feel truth in deception, and see paths others cannot. But each use leaves a mark. You cannot rely solely on instinct."
Jeng Minh nodded, gripping Zhou Chen's spear. "Then I will learn. I have no choice. The capital isn't waiting, and neither is the chain."
The journey ahead was long, stretching across rolling plains, jagged mountains, and dense forests. Imperial patrols would be everywhere, seeking the warlord who had seemingly abandoned his posts. But Jeng Minh no longer feared the pursuit—he had felt the chain guide him, had seen the first glimpse of its power.
As they rode, Bai Ye spoke again. "The capital is a nest of vipers. Political factions, secret sects, assassins… each will attempt to sway or destroy you. You will need allies. And you will need to understand the vessel fully—otherwise, the chain will consume you in moments of weakness."
Jeng Minh considered his retinue: Feng, loyal and battle-hardened; Xie Yaling, skilled and observant; and the small cadre of Zhou Chen's remaining generals. All of them were loyal, yet all would be dragged into whatever war was coming. He could not fail—not for himself, and not for them.
The first night of travel fell over them in a shroud of mist and firelight. The campfire flickered, casting shadows that danced like wraiths. Jeng Minh sat slightly apart, feeling the pulse of the chain in his chest.
"Feng," he said quietly, "I need you to trust me completely. Every decision I make from now on… it may seem reckless. But it will be guided."
Feng's eyes were steady. "My lord, I follow because you command. But I follow also because I trust you—Zhou Chen or Jeng Minh, it does not matter. Just promise me this: whatever comes, we survive together."
Jeng Minh's lips pressed into a determined line. "We survive. And when the chain has fully awakened… we will strike back at those who would use it against us."
From the darkness beyond the campfire, a faint chime echoed—the same metallic sound that had heralded the Chainbearer's presence. The soldiers stiffened, hands on weapons, but Bai Ye remained serene.
"The chain watches," he said softly. "And so do those who serve the old order. You are no longer merely a warlord—you are a beacon. And beacons draw both hope… and death."
Jeng Minh closed his eyes, feeling Zhou Chen's body, his own mind, and the chain's pulse meld into one. His resolve hardened. Every mile toward the capital would be fraught with danger, yet he was no longer merely fleeing.
He was advancing.
Because the vessel had awakened.
And the empire, with all its hidden knives and whispered conspiracies, would soon learn that the warlord they sought was no longer the man they had feared. He was something more—something unstoppable.
The fire crackled, the night whispered, and in the distance, the faint echo of chains dragged over stone, ever closer.