Chapter 194
The western mountains narrowed into a canyon so thin that the wind had to squeeze through sideways. Even the light seemed reluctant to follow us inside.
Shen Yue walked silently at my side. Neither of us spoke. Something about the air demanded quiet — not reverence, but caution. Every sound echoed twice, once from the stones, and once from something deeper.
We emerged into a valley that should not exist.
Terraces carved by centuries of hands clung to the cliffs. Waterfalls fell upward, rejoining the clouds. Bridges hung between peaks with no visible supports. Houses were carved into rock faces that slanted in impossible angles, like memories half remembered.
And at the center stood a deserted city:
a ring of tall, pale stone towers bent inward as if listening to themselves.
Shen Yue whispered, "What is this place?"
"A city that forgot its name," I said. "Because remembering it would kill whoever spoke it."
The air hummed.
The bridge inside me didn't hum with it.
It cowered.
That was new.
We entered through an archway worn so smooth it felt like water. Symbols carved along the walls flickered faintly as if stirred by an unseen breath.
Shen Yue froze.
A figure stood at the far end of the empty plaza.
A scholar—robes torn, long hair tied with a bone pin.
He bowed.
"You came later than expected," he said. "Your father arrived thirty years ago."
A chill sliced through me. "And what did he do?"
The scholar smiled without joy.
"He asked us how to ascend without Heaven's permission. And when we refused to answer, he took the answer from our dead."
So he had been here too.
Of course he had.
The scholar gestured for us to follow.
"Come," he said. "You wish to silence the bridge. We wish to show you what happens when a bridge… breaks."
We walked past rows of stone tablets cracked from within, as if clawed from the inside. Past murals painted in pigments I did not recognize — showing towers, rivers, men kneeling, and sky burning.
Shen Yue muttered, "This place feels wrong."
"It is wrong," the scholar agreed. "That is why it remains."
He led us into a chamber lit by cold fire.
Inside the flame, shadows moved. Not cast. Not projected.
Alive.
"This," the scholar said softly, "is what your father stole."
Inside the fire, a silhouette bent backward — a human shape, but stripped of intention, identity, memory.
A severed Mandate.
The scholar explained:
"A bridge that connects the mortal soul to something above must be rooted in sacrifice. But when a bridge is made without Heaven's sanction, it becomes a wound."
He looked at me.
"That wound is inside you."
Shen Yue stepped forward, placing herself between us.
"And how do we heal it?"
"We don't," the scholar said. "We cut it open."
Ling An.
At the palace gate, Zhou General Qian knelt before Wu Jin, dipping his spear in salute.
"Your Majesty," Qian said, "our Emperor requests a private audience."
Wu Jin forced a polite smile. "Zhou's assistance is valued. Liang appreciates your—"
Qian interrupted with a bow too sharp to be respectful.
"You misunderstand, King Wu Jin. My Emperor does not summon allies."
Wu Jin's throat tightened.
"He summons vassals."
The ministers gasped.
Shuang did not.
Wu Jin steadied himself. "And if Liang refuses?"
"Then the He Lian dynasty collapses," Qian said. "And Zhou inherits whatever remains."
Wu Jin felt his pulse hammer against his ribs — but he bowed with flawless grace.
"I will meet your Emperor."
Qian nodded. "Good. We depart tonight."
Wu Shuang approached him quietly afterward.
"You're going with him," she said.
"Am I refusing?" Wu Jin whispered.
"No." She touched his sleeve. "But you're trembling."
"Wouldn't you?"
Shuang smiled faintly. "I never tremble."
"That," Wu Jin said, voice cracking, "is exactly what terrifies me."
Hei Fort.
The Southern King stood in his command tent while the Emperor of Liang sipped tea.
"Your Majesty," the King said, "our scouts confirm that your false vassal in Ling An has not moved against us."
"Of course he hasn't," the Emperor said. "Fear is an excellent chain."
"And the Lord Protector?" the King asked.
"He is building the instrument of his own defeat," the Emperor replied. "Let him finish. Then I shall remove him."
The Southern King bowed.
"And the boy? Wu An?"
"Ah," the Emperor murmured. "The bridge."
A silence, heavy as river stone.
"He will come to me," the Emperor said. "Weapons seek owners."
Western City.
The scholar poured sand onto the floor.
It crawled into a perfect circle.
"Sit," he told me.
I did.
Shen Yue stood behind me, hand on her blade.
"First," the scholar said, "you must approach the bridge."
I inhaled.
The bridge inside me stirred — a serpent coiling, opening an eye.
Do not touch me, it whispered.
I ignored it.
Do not touch me.
I pushed deeper.
Shen Yue placed her hand on my shoulder. "An—slowly—"
The bridge bucked, slashing through my chest like cold lightning.
I gasped.
The scholar's voice echoed distantly.
"Good. Now open it. Just a crack."
"I can't—"
"You must."
I reached.
The bridge screamed.
I screamed with it.
Then—
It cracked.
Light spilled out — not bright, but black, like ink boiling through my ribs.
The scholar stepped forward.
"Now you see," he said softly. "It is not a bridge."
The ink writhed upward, twisting into a shape that bent the air.
"It is not a blessing."
It screamed again — a sound that tore dust from the walls.
"It is not a Mandate."
The ink surged toward my face.
Shen Yue shouted my name.
The scholar whispered:
"It is a newborn god."
I forced the crack shut.
The ink snapped.
Fell back inside me like water dropping down a well.
I collapsed to all fours, breath tearing out of my throat.
Shen Yue grabbed me.
"An! AN!"
I steadied myself.
The scholar bowed.
"You have seen enough for now," he said. "Tomorrow, we begin the cutting."
I wiped blood from my mouth.
"Tell me," I said. "If we cut it open—will I die?"
The scholar smiled with real pity.
"No," he said. "You will not die."
He held up a lantern.
"You will become something that remembers dying."
Far away, in Ling An, Wu Shuang stood at her balcony, watching the third pulse of the tower split the sky.
She whispered:
"Brother… both of you… do not look back. The world behind us no longer belongs to anyone human."
Then she turned.
And walked toward the throne room—
where her father's shadow was already waiting.