The days that followed their escape from the Shattered Veil were a blur of silence and purpose.
Jun Mo Xie's hand never strayed far from the pouch that carried the Celestial Ember. Its warmth pulsed like a second heartbeat, steady and quiet, yet full of promise.
They camped in a valley between jade-colored hills, where the wind whispered through the grass like a thousand voices. There, beneath a starlit sky, they gathered to plan.
Fei Yan drew a map into the earth with the tip of her dagger. "The Crimson General has fortified three strongholds—here, here, and here. All converge around the Gate."
Yue Ling added, "He's not just protecting it. He's funneling energy toward it. Cultivation sites, ancient ley lines, even mass graves. He's feeding the Gate."
Lan Xue's voice trembled as she said, "What happens when it opens?"
Mei Yun answered, her tone grim. "A tide of corruption. The veil between worlds will tear. The heavens may fall."
Jun Mo Xie traced a line across the map. "Then we strike before that. We disrupt the convergence. Split his forces. Bleed his power."
Fei Yan nodded. "Divide and conquer. Old tactics, but effective."
"Not enough," Yue Ling said. "We need allies."
---
They rode the next day to the Floating Spire—a neutral territory among cultivators, ruled not by clans or sects but by the ancient pact of the Balance.
As they approached, the sky turned golden with the city's chi field. Towers of glass and steel floated above waterfalls suspended mid-air. Traders, mercenaries, and rogue cultivators moved about, whispering rumors of war and miracles.
Inside the Spire Hall, Jun Mo Xie stood before a council of ten.
"We don't owe your clan anything," one elder said.
"You fled the world," another sneered. "And now you ask us to bleed for it?"
Jun Mo Xie's voice was steady. "I ask nothing for my clan. I ask for your future."
He unwrapped the Ember. Its light bathed the hall in golden fire.
"This is real," he said. "And so is the enemy that comes."
Whispers spread. Even the doubters fell silent.
A tall woman in silver armor stepped forward. Her hair was white, her eyes like burning jade. "Then I will fight beside you. My order has faced the Gate once before. We failed. We will not fail again."
Others followed.
"The Skyborne Falcons offer you two wings."
"The Order of Iron pledges a battalion."
"Even the Jade Scorpion sect sends three blades."
By nightfall, a war council had formed.
---
Training began immediately. Jun Mo Xie led with Mei Yun, organizing drills and formations. Fei Yan trained spies and assassins. Yue Ling designed sabotage missions. Lan Xue formed a team of spiritual healers.
They had one week.
Each day, Jun Mo Xie trained with the Ember. He learned to channel its energy—fire that could not burn, light that pierced illusions, power that responded to will alone.
In dreams, he saw flashes of his past life—or a life yet to come. Always, the Crimson General stood at the end of it, laughing.
---
On the fifth night, Lan Xue approached his tent.
She sat beside him, hands folded, cheeks flushed.
"I used to dream of being a healer in a quiet village," she said. "Now I fight beside you… against legends."
He smiled. "And you are stronger than any legend I've read."
She blushed deeper. "I'm afraid, Mo Xie."
"So am I."
She leaned against him. "Then let's be afraid together."
---
On the seventh day, disaster struck.
A scout arrived bloodied and breathless. "One of the strongholds is down. Destroyed. But not by us."
Jun Mo Xie stood. "What?"
"The Crimson General burned it himself. Said it had served its purpose. He's accelerating the ritual."
Mei Yun growled, "He's pushing us. Forcing our hand."
Fei Yan's eyes narrowed. "Or testing our resolve."
Yue Ling slammed her fist on the table. "Then we strike now. Before he's ready."
Jun Mo Xie looked around. "We split into three units. One strikes the western ley line. One the southern burial mounds. One holds the center. I'll lead that one."
Lan Xue stood. "I go with you."
Mei Yun nodded. "I take the burial ground."
Yue Ling and Fei Yan exchanged glances. "We'll take the west."
Plans were drawn. Schedules written. Farewells whispered.
They would meet again in five days—at the Gate.
---
That night, under a sky of falling stars, Jun Mo Xie and Lan Xue sat beside a fire.
"I never thought I'd see the world try to heal itself," she said.
"It hasn't," he replied. "Not yet. But it's beginning."
She reached for his hand.
He held hers tightly.
And somewhere far away, atop a black tower, the Crimson General gazed into the flames of his own.
"The game begins," he whispered. "Come, little monarch. L
et me see if your fire can match mine."
Behind him, the Gate groaned.
And the world trembled.
---
*To be continued...*