Chapter One: The Blood Decree

“Your Highness, do you acknowledge your wrongdoing?”

That voice, laden with undeniable authority, swept through the silent air like a biting winter wind, echoing deep within Xiao Chenbi’s memory. Each word seemed edged with splinters of ice, scraping harshly against her ears.

Now, Xiao Chenbi felt her spine crash heavily against the iron spikes behind her. The cold, unyielding metal pierced her flesh with malicious intent, spreading sharp pain throughout her body until her consciousness began to blur.

In her haze, time seemed to reverse. She was transported back a decade—into a solemn palace suffused with an austere atmosphere. Her mother, the Empress, sat atop the throne, gaze icy and severe, her eyes burning straight through Xiao Chenbi. Every syllable from her mother’s lips was clear and forceful, as if an icy blade stabbed at her heart. The sound reverberated throughout the empty palace, enveloping the world in its severity.

Night had fallen like a heavy velvet shroud, blanketing the earth. All was silent, save for the wind weaving through the streets, moaning mournfully. The crescent moon hung high, radiating a cold and profound light, like a thin frost or a razor-sharp blade poised above the darkness, threatening to slice open the endless night.

That chill, silvery moonlight poured onto the thick, rough stone walls of the Imperial Prison, casting a faint blue glow that flickered uncertainly, as if countless wronged souls were sighing in the darkness. Each gleam seemed to be a spirit lamenting its endless suffering, drifting and lingering by the walls.

Xiao Chenbi curled up in a pile of moldy straw, the stalks faded to a sickly yellow-black and reeking of decay. The stench, mingling damp earth and rot, assaulted her senses. The metallic tang of blood from her wounds, inflicted by cruel punishment, filled the cramped cell with a suffocating odor.

She closed her eyes gently, long lashes casting a pale shadow under the moonlight. She focused all her awareness on her spine, where seventy-two iron nails pierced her like venomous stingers, sending waves of dull pain through her body. Each nail was a merciless executioner, ravaging her nerves and muscles. In her mind, she counted—“One, two…”—each pulse of pain like an invisible whip lashing her, a relentless scourge upon her past.

This was the second time she had become a prisoner. The first ordeal had been a nightmare, forcing her to taste every hardship. Now, fate seemed to mock her, thrusting her once more into this abyss. Her former pride and dreams were shattered, dissipating in the cold cell. She did not know how much longer she could endure, nor what awaited her, but she could only bear it silently, awaiting judgment in the endless darkness.

A sudden, sharp sound rang out—a basin of icy saltwater was hurled without warning onto her torn back. The cold stung like mountain ice in the depths of winter, piercing her wounds with countless needles. Pain surged over her like an unstoppable flood, making her body tremble uncontrollably, muscles spasming from the agony. Her fingers clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, joints whitening from the strain.

The punishing matron crossed her arms, sneering with contempt, her twisted smile like a serpent flicking its tongue in the shadows. Her laughter was sharp and grating, echoing through the prison like steel needles stabbing at the ear. She mocked, “You, a rebel leader, expect healing salve? Look at yourself!”

Saltwater mingled with blood, forming a sinister mixture that trickled down Xiao Chenbi’s wounded back, dripping onto the hard stone floor. The liquid, serpentine and grotesque, slowly pooled into a blurred shape—a phoenix. The faint outline seemed to suggest an indomitable soul still struggling in the cold darkness.

Xiao Chenbi stared at the blood, her gaze complex. Memories flickered before her eyes—glories past, comrades-in-arms, injustices endured—all entwined within her, stirring bitter emotions.

Suddenly, her lips curled, and she let out a low, hoarse laugh, strained from deep within her throat. It was tinged with self-mockery for her former innocence, stubborn defiance that refused to bow even in despair, and a silent challenge to fate’s injustice.

“What are you laughing at?” The matron, already irritated, was infuriated by the untimely laughter. Her brows twisted, eyes blazing, nostrils flaring, her face reddening with rage. Unable to restrain herself, she rushed forward and yanked Xiao Chenbi’s hair violently, venting her anger in the cruel gesture.

Her head jerked painfully, but she gritted her teeth, facial muscles twitching, eyes shining with unyielding resolve. She glared directly at the matron, unwavering and defiant, as if piercing through her.

“I laugh at you…” Xiao Chenbi managed, tasting blood in her throat as she spat crimson phlegm onto the floor, its color striking in the shadowed cell. Her heterochromatic eyes flickered like twin ghostly flames, mysterious and powerful, hinting at secrets untold.

“You couldn’t kill me with iron spikes—why should I fear a basin of saltwater?” Her voice, though weak and raspy, was resolute—a cry from the soul that echoed in the silent corner, a final rebellion against fate, moving all who heard it.

At that moment, from outside the cell, where breath could be heard in the silence, came the tinkling sound of ornaments—a delicate melody, like an invisible hand playing silver bells, pure and calming, yet incongruous in the dank prison. The walls, marked by time and reeking of decay, occasionally rang with the moans of prisoners and clanking chains.

The matron and other female officials, usually formidable within the prison, straightened instantly upon hearing the sound, eyes filled with reverence, then knelt in unison as if rehearsed countless times. They called out in chorus, “Greetings, Phoenix Lord!” Their voices reverberated, tense and subdued.

A figure in pale robes approached, the hem brushing the bloodstained floor. The stains, dark and pungent, spoke of former cruelty, but the robe swept over them as if they did not exist, leaving no trace.

Delicate hands held a gilded food box, exquisitely crafted, its golden patterns shimmering softly in the moonlight, radiating noble mystery.

Xiao Chenbi, sitting in the cell’s corner, needed no glance to recognize the familiar sound and the officials’ greetings. It was Xie Wujiao, once her own prisoner—then humble and helpless before her. Now, time had turned; Xie Wujiao was the new Empress, exalted above all.

“Leave us.” His cold voice, like a string tempered by frost, rang out, devoid of warmth. The walls seemed to amplify it, echoing with invisible, chilling authority. Guards and prisoners alike shivered, heads lowered, retreating hurriedly.

Once the footsteps faded, silence returned. A crisp click signaled the food box opening. Xie Wujiao, clad in white, stood out amid the gloom. He picked up a pair of silver chopsticks, gently lifting a piece of amber-colored candy, its delicate sheen alluring under the moonlight, tempting one to taste its sweetness.

He strode steadily to Xiao Chenbi. She, clad in rags and dried blood, looked all the more striking beneath the moon. Xie Wujiao offered the candy to her bloodied lips—soft in gesture, yet impossible to refuse.

“Arsenic?” Xiao Chenbi raised her head, lips curling in a cold smile, her wary gaze like a wounded beast—no longer naive, but hardened by betrayal and suffering, questioning every approach.

Xie Wujiao regarded her silently. As he moved, his wide sleeves fell away, revealing the cold gleam of a nine-ringed lock on his wrist. The intricate patterns shimmered in the darkness, whispering unknown stories. He locked eyes with Xiao Chenbi, calm and deep as a lake. “If I meant to kill you, I should have done so ten years ago, when you locked me in the beast cage.”

In the oppressive gloom, the drip of water from damp walls was starkly clear. Xiao Chenbi and Xie Wujiao stood face to face, their breaths audible.

Suddenly, as if compelled by an unseen force, Xiao Chenbi seized Xie Wujiao’s hand and bit his fingertip fiercely, drawing blood that spilled warmly, flooding her senses with its metallic tang.

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At that moment, Xie Wujiao exhaled softly—a sound so faint it would have gone unnoticed but for the silence and Xiao Chenbi’s intense focus. The breath carried pain and surprise, as he had not expected such a sudden act.

“There’s an underground river beneath the prison,” Xie Wujiao whispered, his lips nearly touching her ear, words guarded. “At the third quarter of midnight, the sluice will open.”

As he spoke, the distant sound of a watchman’s clapper echoed—each beat marking time, urging decisions. Should she trust Xie Wujiao, or remain doubtful? The dilemma weighed heavily.

Xiao Chenbi released her bite, blood still staining his fingers. She licked away the droplets, eyes locked on him, suspicion lingering. “Why should I trust you?”

Without hesitation, Xie Wujiao tore open his collar, exposing a pale chest with a conspicuous arrow scar, winding across like a centipede—inflicted by Xiao Chenbi herself at fourteen, a moment of reckless youth now haunting them both.

“Because…” Xie Wujiao leaned close, his warm breath brushing the phoenix-shaped birthmark behind her ear. The touch sent a subtle shiver through her. He spoke, voice low and strained, “On the night your mother ordered the massacre of my family, when flames consumed our estate, I searched for you in the inferno and carried you out.”

Suddenly, the clapper ceased, as if time itself had paused. The prison corridor outside erupted in firelight—a blazing inferno spreading like a dragon, casting terrified faces in a crimson glow.

“Rebels are storming the prison!” someone shouted, panic shattering the calm.

Xie Wujiao acted swiftly, pressing a cold object into Xiao Chenbi’s palm—a half piece of dragon-patterned jade, its exquisite carving glowing in the firelight. She recognized it instantly; it matched a piece she had worn as a child.

“Remember,” Xie Wujiao said, his gaze full of hope and worry, “Survive and reach the pawnshop on Vermilion Bird Avenue. There you’ll find…”

He was interrupted by the shriek of arrows—a sharp warning as three black-feathered shafts streaked toward him, swift as specters, their deadly intent unmistakable.

Xie Wujiao staggered, grunting in pain as blood spilled from his wounds. Xiao Chenbi reacted instinctively, reaching to catch him, her hands coming away stained with his warm blood, her heart plunging into despair.

Her gaze fixed on the arrowhead—a familiar crest engraved there: the Xie family emblem. Confusion and agony overwhelmed her. Betrayal from within, or something more? Questions churned as she clung to Xie Wujiao, desperate to give him strength.

In the days that followed, Xiao Chenbi—driven by turmoil and pain—escaped through the icy underground river. The current threatened to swallow her frail form, the cold biting deep, each breath agony, but she held fast to one belief: survive and uncover the truth.

She clawed forward, gripping whatever she could, feet seeking purchase on the riverbed, determined no matter the exhaustion or obstacles.

At last, after a grueling struggle, she emerged from the narrow river outlet into the dawn. The light flickered at the edge of night, distant mountains shrouded in mist, as if painted in delicate ink.

Every muscle protested as she dragged herself toward Vermilion Bird Avenue, the city tense with patrols and shouts. She moved like a startled deer, pressed to the walls, hiding in shadows, fearful of discovery.

Finally, she reached the pawnshop. The half-open door creaked, the air inside musty with years of accumulated scents. She pushed it open, the copper ring clinking, hinges groaning in the silence.

Inside, dim rays of sunlight fell through cracks, illuminating heaps of relics—ancient porcelain, rusty blades, faded scrolls. The elderly shopkeeper, hair grizzled, sat behind the counter working his abacus. Surprised at her appearance—disheveled, muddy, clothes torn—he soon regained composure, eyes calm with experience.

“What do you need, miss?” he asked, voice deep and hoarse.

Xiao Chenbi, breathless, trembling, took out the half jade and handed it over. “I’ve come to retrieve something,” she said, urgent and weary.

He examined it carefully in the weak light, nodding with steady assurance. “Follow me.”

Leading her to the back, amidst faded scrolls and dusty clutter, he stopped at an old chest. The wood was worn, paint chipped, lock rusted. He opened it, revealing a yellowed ledger and a letter.

Xiao Chenbi lifted the ledger, pages fragile and edges curled. She read through blurred ink, discovering records of secret court transactions—goods, payments, all veiled in secrecy. Her brows furrowed, sensing a vast conspiracy enveloping the court.

She opened the letter, its paper aged, seal broken. As she read, her eyes widened in shock. The Empress’s order to annihilate the Xie family had been manipulated by treacherous ministers, who fabricated crimes for their own gain, deceiving her into a fatal decision.

Xie Wujiao, always quiet, had endured everything in pursuit of evidence to clear his family’s name, suffering alone to bring truth to light. The letter also referenced a mysterious organization, a hidden hand manipulating the government, placing spies in key positions to seize power.

Xiao Chenbi shivered, realizing a fierce struggle was ahead.

She stood in the empty hall, fists clenched, knuckles pale, heart roiling with anger and guilt. Rage burned within, while remorse strangled her breath, recalling overlooked details that now stabbed at her conscience.

She regretted her naïveté, her trust in false promises and lies that led to the Xie family’s destruction. Tears welled up, but she stubbornly held them back, determined to be strong and seek justice.

She vowed to expose the mastermind lurking in the shadows, to avenge the Xie family and atone for her own unforgivable mistakes.

After leaving the pawnshop, Xiao Chenbi urgently sought information about the mysterious organization. She combed the city, following every lead, questioning anyone who might help. Those who had known the Xie family shook their heads in sympathy, warning her of the organization’s secrecy.

Rumors placed its headquarters in an ancient castle deep in the mountains, surrounded by traps and guarded fiercely. The traps were like lurking demons, the guards like wild beasts, their eyes cold and vigilant.

Xiao Chenbi did not hesitate. She knew the road ahead would be perilous, but her resolve left no room for retreat. She packed carefully—knife for defense, light clothing for weather, food and water for survival—then set out for the castle.

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On the journey, she faced countless hardships. Storms raged, winds howled, rain drenched her, each step a struggle. She clung to trees and rocks, advancing inch by inch. Fierce beasts attacked, forcing deadly battles—her knife flashing as she fought with determination and courage. Each confrontation was a matter of life and death, but she pressed on, driven by her vow to avenge the Xie family and redeem herself.

At last, breathless but resolute, Xiao Chenbi arrived at the ancient castle. It stood like a stern elder amid wild grass, its gates massive and studded with iron, tightly sealed. The guards were clad in black armor, their plumes trembling in the wind, spears glinting, eyes sharp as they scanned the surroundings.

She hid behind withered shrubs, observing the patrols. With cunning and patience, she noted that every half hour, the guards changed shifts, during which the gates briefly opened—a fleeting opportunity.

She waited, heart pounding, until the shift came. As the gates parted, she slipped inside like a shadow, swift and silent.

Within, the castle was a maze, eerie and oppressive. Flickering torches cast wavering light, stretching her shadow long. The air stank of damp and decay. She moved lightly, careful not to make a sound.

Low voices drifted to her ears, distant and mysterious. Her nerves taut, she followed the sound, heart racing, until she found a secret chamber at the end of a narrow corridor. The half-open door glowed faintly, beckoning her toward hidden secrets.

She listened, then placed her hand on the cold, aged handle and gently pushed, entering with barely a sound.

Inside, candlelight flickered on the walls. Several figures in black robes sat around a rustic round table, faces masked with sinister, intricate designs.

They hunched together, voices hushed and tense. The door’s creak broke their conversation; they turned as one, startled.

“Who are you? How did you get here?” one demanded, rising sharply, voice edged with tension.

Xiao Chenbi stood tall, gaze icy, scanning the group. “I’m here to expose your plot,” she declared, her voice clear and resolute, echoing like a hammer in the silence.

The leader scoffed, laughing coldly. “You? You think you can stop us?” His tone was full of disdain.

The room’s oppressive atmosphere deepened as Xiao Chenbi gripped her sword tightly, knuckles pale with determination. Her eyes burned with righteous fury, as if to ignite the darkness.

A fierce battle erupted. The robed figures sprang from the shadows, blades flashing as they attacked. Xiao Chenbi, fearless, fought back with skill and courage, her sword whistling through the air, each strike a protest against evil.

The clash of weapons sparked, ringing out as she dodged and countered, sweat soaking her, resolve unbroken.

After a prolonged struggle, she subdued the conspirators. They lay scattered, groaning in defeat. Xiao Chenbi, breathing heavily, tore off their masks, revealing one as a court minister—one who had always appeared upright, now exposed as the mastermind behind the organization.

He had colluded with foreign enemies, seeking to overthrow the court, his actions vile and shameful.

Xiao Chenbi carefully gathered evidence, her resolve unwavering, and hurried back to the capital. She traveled tirelessly, fearing any loss of proof. At last, she arrived, presenting her findings to the Emperor.

The Emperor, seated on the throne, grew furious upon hearing the truth, slamming the table in outrage. He immediately ordered elite troops to arrest the minister and his associates.

With their capture, the Xie family’s injustice was finally cleared. The shadow over them was lifted, and Xiao Chenbi’s heroism brought her honor across the capital.

Meanwhile, Xie Wujiao, wounded by the three black-feathered arrows, hovered between life and death. The arrows carried a potent poison, spreading through his body with relentless pain. Blood pooled dark and foul, his breathing labored.

Despite the best efforts of the physicians, using rare herbs and careful treatment, Xie Wujiao remained frail, his once robust form now gaunt, his complexion pale as paper, lips tinged blue, every breath a struggle.

Xiao Chenbi watched over him day and night, caring with tenderness. By day, she prepared nourishing medicine and fed him carefully, wiping his brow with gentle hands. At night, she stayed at his bedside, holding his hand to ward off nightmares, attentive to his slightest movement.

During this time, their relationship changed. Where once there was hatred and misunderstanding—burdens that had weighed on them—now, through shared hardship, they learned to understand and trust each other.

Xiao Chenbi admired Xie Wujiao’s resilience, his defiant gaze inspiring her. He, in turn, felt the warmth of her care, her gentle words comforting him. Old grievances faded away, replaced by mutual understanding and open hearts.

Days passed, and peace returned to the capital. The streets grew lively again, vendors and children’s laughter blending into a harmonious scene. Xiao Chenbi and Xie Wujiao, united by their trials, walked hand in hand, their love deepened by adversity.

They strolled through the city, watching people prosper. Shops bustled, faces smiled, children played joyfully. The couple found comfort in the hard-won tranquility, knowing it was the fruit of their shared effort.

The half jade pendant lay quietly in Xie Wujiao’s arms, its dragon carving vivid, as if ready to soar. It bore witness to their journey—meeting, understanding, loving—through storm and trial. It became a symbol of their love and fate, forever cherished as their most precious memory…