Chapter Two: The Fragmented Jade

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In the midst of a tranquil and profound underground river, it felt as though one had entered a mysterious world isolated from the rest of existence. All around, a heart-stopping silence permeated, a silence as though an invisible net had swallowed every sound, leaving only the roar of rushing water echoing wantonly through the darkness. That roaring, like thousands of troops charging into battle, or countless specters snarling in the night, battered at the eardrums again and again.

In the gloom, the river’s water was nearly black as ink, so deep it resembled the abyss of the universe, a bottomless pit concealing countless untold secrets. Under the faintest glimmer of light, the inky water shimmered with an eerie luster, like pairs of eyes hidden in the darkness, coldly observing everything.

Xiao Chenbi’s face was as pale as paper, drained of all color, as though the river’s darkness had leeched every trace of life from her. Her hands clutched a half-piece of a dragon-patterned jade pendant, her knuckles white and tense, the bones jutting so sharply it seemed they might pierce her skin. The half-pendant gleamed with a cold light in the dimness, its intricate patterns imbued with mystery, each line like an ancient symbol, whispering stories long forgotten. Carried up and down by the rapids, her body was tossed like a leaf in a wild wind, helpless and unable to resist, flung about by the current as it pleased.

The torrent surged and crashed, a furious beast wielding irresistible force. Churning and howling, it sent up white spray like gnashing fangs. It pounded Xiao Chenbi’s body, each blow a bone-shaking impact, water slapping her face so harshly she could barely open her eyes. Each cresting wave felt like invisible hands, wrenching and twisting her, as if to tear her body to shreds. The river seemed alive, malicious and overbearing, dragging her forward with no mercy; she felt as insignificant as a pawn on a vast chessboard, manipulated at will.

It brought to mind the inferno ten years before—a calamity that haunted her memory. The fire’s crackling had sounded like demons laughing, thick smoke rolling in with a brutal finality, engulfing the world in darkness. The acrid fumes invaded her nose and mouth, suffocating her, each breath stabbing her lungs like needles, a pain beyond words, as if her organs would be torn apart. Her eyes streamed from the smoke, her throat burned, and she struggled helplessly in the sea of flame.

Now, the iron nails embedded in her spine were soaked through by the icy water. They glinted with a hellish chill, cold seeping through her skin into her very bones. The chill slithered like tiny snakes deep inside, threatening to freeze her soul. Uncontrollably, her body trembled, teeth chattering, the sound stark in the silence of the underground river. Yet this cold was nothing compared to the shock when Xie Wujiao collapsed in her arms.

Then, sunlight had bathed the land in peace. The sky was sapphire, clouds drifted like spun sugar, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of flowers. Suddenly, a black-feathered arrow whistled through the air—a summons from death itself—piercing his chest without mercy. In that instant, time froze. Xiao Chenbi’s eyes widened with terror and disbelief, unable to comprehend what had just occurred. Xie Wujiao swayed, lips trembling as if to speak, but no sound emerged. Slowly, he fell into her embrace, his gaze darkening. Blood gushed from his wound, spraying her garments with crimson blossoms. The warmth of that blood, the heat of life itself, seared her heart with agony. The scene, a living nightmare, replayed endlessly in her mind, impossible to banish. Each recollection gripped her heart with invisible fingers, the pain suffocating, tears streaming unbidden down her cheeks.

The arrows of the Xie clan—once symbols of duty and honor, guardians of the family’s legacy, emblems of enduring glory—were now pointed at the final heir, loosed with ruthless finality. The arrow shattered not only the hope of the Xie family, but also the faith in Xiao Chenbi’s heart. This tormenting question weighed on her like an unbreakable shackle, pressing on her every moment, filling her with confusion and pain, as if she were lost in an endless abyss without hope or light. Why had this happened? Who was orchestrating it all? The more she pondered, the more tangled her thoughts became, trapping her deeper in agony and bewilderment.

Suddenly—a sharp, ringing splash broke the silence of the river like thunder. Xiao Chenbi burst from the water, her body slamming onto slick rocks with tremendous force. Coughs wracked her, each one a cry from the depths of her soul, wringing out not only the water in her lungs but also the pain inside her. Her body shook uncontrollably, wet hair plastered to her face, exhaustion and struggle clear in her eyes. The river’s exit led, unexpectedly, to the city’s outskirts—a haunted, chilling burial ground. Cold moonlight shone on mounds of bones, which reflected a ghostly phosphorescence, as if countless vengeful spirits watched from the dark with unspeakable horror. The bones were of all shapes, some broken, some piled together, each telling its own tale of tragedy. The air was thick with decay, nauseating to the point of revulsion.

“Your Highness.” A hoarse, low voice drifted from the shadows, like a ghostly whisper from the depths of hell, laden with mystery and menace. At the sound, Xiao Chenbi tensed, every nerve alert, hairs standing on end. Her hand flew to her sword, knuckles white, her gaze wary and defensive—like a leopard ready to strike. Yet when her eyes found the speaker, she froze.

It was an elderly woman, hunched like a bow, leaning on a bone staff, shuffling out of the darkness with each step labored and slow. Looking closer, Xiao Chenbi recognized her—the shaman who had once served her mother, the Empress. This woman, long thought dead, now appeared before her like a riddle, filling Xiao Chenbi with unease and suspicion.

“I have waited ten years,” the shaman intoned, her voice strange and eerie in the decaying burial ground, each word drawing out the weight of time. Her tattered black robe flapped in the night wind, like the wailing of countless souls. She reached out a hand, fingers gnarled and dry as dead branches, black grime thick under her nails, and gently traced Xiao Chenbi’s mismatched eyes. Her gaze was unfathomable, a black hole concealing secrets, compelling and terrifying. “I’ve waited to see whether the fate of phoenix bone and dragon marrow can truly defy destiny.” Her words, oddly accented, dripped with enchantment, each syllable like a spell, hinting at a secret of earth-shaking consequence waiting for the brave to uncover.

Xiao Chenbi stood motionless among the bones, the air thick with chill, as though countless cold eyes watched her from the dark. Withered grass trembled in the wind, whispering like ghosts mourning the unknown. Suddenly, the shaman’s words stabbed her ears like a blade, bristling with malice. In an instant, anger flared within her, an inferno surging from the depths of her heart, threatening to consume her reason, leaving only a sea of rage.

Without hesitation, she lunged forward, seizing the shaman’s throat in a white-knuckled grip, her fingers taut with barely contained power. Her eyes blazed with fury and resolve, flames threatening to devour the old woman. “What do you know?” she demanded, voice low and cold, each word edged with ice, brooking no denial or deceit.

But the shaman did not cower. She grinned grotesquely, mouth stretched so wide it seemed her face might tear, exposing yellowed, jagged teeth, some broken, some blackened with rot. She cackled, the sound shrill and grating, like metal scraping metal, echoing across the graveyard—a chorus of fiends shrieking in one’s ear. The laughter spread in the wind, shrouding the burial ground in terror.

Slowly, she raised a hand and, with deliberate care, reached inside her robe, as if savoring Xiao Chenbi’s suspense. She fumbled for a moment, then drew out a roll of time-darkened silk. Its edges were frayed and cracked, creased by age, like the wrinkles on an old man’s face. As she unrolled it, Xiao Chenbi felt her heart stop, time itself pausing. Her pupils contracted, shock and disbelief etched across her face, as if witnessing something terrifying. Her gaze locked on the neat, familiar script—her mother’s hand, every stroke engraved in her memory. Those familiar characters now slashed her heart like a blade.

“The bloodline of Xie can suppress heterochromia; if Chenbi is not tamed by sixteen, she must be executed.” This single line cut straight to Xiao Chenbi’s core. It was as if thunder exploded in her heart, her world upended, the heavens collapsing. Dizzy and reeling, her vision blurred, the ground swaying beneath her—a storm threatening to swallow her whole. Below the words was the imperial seal, a bloody imprint glowing in the moonlight, exuding the scent of blood and cruelty—a history of betrayal and slaughter.

“Why do you think the Xie family was exterminated?” The shaman’s breath reeked, foul as a rotting corpse, making Xiao Chenbi gag. The old woman’s face nearly touched her ear, voice low and hoarse, like a demon’s whisper haunting her soul. “Because your mother discovered... Xie Wujiao was the true ‘dragon marrow.’” The words sent chills through Xiao Chenbi, trembling from fingertip to core, as if plunged into an ice cell.

In the dead of night, as she fled in panic, faint torchlight flickered in the distance—the pursuers drawing near. The pinpricks of light pierced the darkness like predatory eyes, tracking her every move.

Startled, she had no time to think. She snatched the silk, hastily stuffing it into her robe. In her confusion, her hand brushed the jade pendant Xie Wujiao had given her. Instantly, it burned hot as fire, the heat searing through her clothes. She jerked her hand back, startled.

A sudden realization dawned—perhaps the pendant was guiding her. Without hesitation, she staggered toward Vermilion Bird Avenue, exhaustion and fear dragging at her steps. As she ran, the shaman’s crow-like laughter pursued her: “You think he saved you out of kindness? That boy from the Xie family only wanted the seventy-two nails in your spine!” The words pierced her heart like arrows, her steps faltering, pain and confusion darkening her gaze. But in the next moment, her eyes hardened with resolve, and she pressed on.

At last, she reached Vermilion Bird Avenue. The once-bustling “Yongchang Pawnshop” was now a ruin, its door rotted and riddled with holes, barely standing. In her urgency, Xiao Chenbi kicked the door open, sending dust billowing into the dim air, choking her with every breath.

Through the haze, she glimpsed an old woman behind the counter, her single eye sharp, white hair tangled, face lined like parched earth. Without looking up, the old woman asked coldly, “What do you wish to pawn?”

Xiao Chenbi drew a steadying breath, then slammed the half jade pendant onto the counter. The clear ring of jade on wood made the old woman jerk her head up, her one eye widening in awe and fear as if confronted by something sacred and terrifying. Her hands trembled as she lifted a black lacquered box from beneath the counter, its surface smooth and mysterious even in the faint light. With utmost care, she opened it, revealing an arrow identical to the one that had pierced Xie Wujiao’s chest. The arrowhead bore the Xie family crest, carved with exquisite detail, gleaming with authority; the fletching was bound with a gold thread once used to tie Xiao Chenbi’s childhood hair—a thread that still shone faintly in the gloom, whispering of ancient, enigmatic tales.

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“That night, ten years ago...” In the dim room, candlelight flickered as the old woman’s withered hands gripped the box, nails digging deep into the wood, nearly warping it with force. Her voice was low and trembling, each word laden with the weight of a decade. “The young master of the Xie family used this arrow to kill the late emperor who was strangling you.”

Xiao Chenbi’s ears rang, a swarm of bees buzzing, pain shooting through her skull. She froze, eyes clouded with shock and confusion. She remembered why she had been deposed—her mother’s cold words echoing: “You committed regicide.” But no matter how she tried, she could not recall that night; only darkness and fog shrouded her mind. If it was Xie Wujiao who struck the killing blow, who had driven the cold iron nails into her spine? The question loomed, heavy and mysterious, suffocating her with its weight.

At that moment, the clamor of armored soldiers approached outside, each step pounding on Xiao Chenbi’s heart. She knew the pursuers had arrived. The old woman grew urgent, flinging open a trapdoor behind the counter with frantic decisiveness. “Go!” she ordered. Without hesitation, Xiao Chenbi leapt into the passage.

At the entrance, painted in blood, was the Xie family crest—its vivid red jarring amid the gloom, as though inscribed with fresh sacrifice, a silent testament to tragedy and valor, foreshadowing peril and uncertainty in the road ahead.

She hurried through the tunnel, footsteps quick and anxious. Moisture beaded on the damp walls, drops slipping down to splash on the ground—a relentless ticking, like the footsteps of time, urging her onward. The air was thick with earth and decay, the stench nearly unbearable, making her wrinkle her nose.

Her mind echoed with the revelations just learned—the massacre of the Xie family, once so prosperous, now annihilated in a single night; Xie Wujiao’s death, the one who had meant everything to her, now forever beyond reach; her mother’s secret edicts, and the sinister plots lurking behind them. Everything tangled together, an inextricable knot.

She didn’t know where the passage led—only that darkness and danger lay ahead, secrets waiting to be uncovered. But a fierce resolve burned in her heart: she would find the truth, avenge the innocent dead, vindicate Xie Wujiao and herself, no matter the cost or peril.

As she pressed deeper into the winding tunnel, the light grew ever dimmer, a heavy black curtain descending. Only a slender beam might now and then filter through cracks in the ceiling, a ghostly finger tracing her way. The floor was slick with water, some pools deep enough to soak her shoes. She stepped with utmost care, testing each spot before moving, wary of shattering the silence or triggering hidden traps. Fallen stones and broken branches littered the path, shadows shifting with every movement.

Suddenly, a faint sound came from ahead, barely audible—perhaps someone in soft-soled shoes, perhaps the wind sighing through the tunnel’s mouth. Instantly, Xiao Chenbi froze, holding her breath, listening as intently as a cat. The sound drew nearer, each step pounding in her chest like a frantic bird. She gripped her sword, knuckles whitening, ready for battle.

When the shadowy figure finally appeared, she was rooted to the spot. Before her stood a young man in black, the darkness of his garb blending into the tunnel. His face was masked, revealing only bright, sharp eyes, cold and determined as stars on a winter night. He too paused when he saw her, the air between them growing taut.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” Xiao Chenbi demanded, her authority quiet but unyielding, sword raised in warning.

The man was silent for a moment, gathering his words, then replied in a steady, low voice, “I’m here to help you.”

She frowned, suspicion knotting her heart. “Why? Why should I trust you?” Her gaze probed his eyes, searching for any sign of deceit.

He slowly drew a jade token from his robe, holding it out to her. “Xie Wujiao asked me to give this to you.”

Taking it, Xiao Chenbi examined the token—the lines, the luster, every detail etched in her memory. A surge of feeling swept through her: longing for Xie Wujiao, and suspicion toward this stranger.

“How is Xie Wujiao?” she asked, voice trembling, bracing for the answer she dreaded.

The man shook his head, sorrow shadowing his face. “He’s dead. But with his last breath, he told me to find you, protect you, and tell you that not everything is as it seems. He wanted you to persist, to uncover the truth.”

Her eyes filled with tears, pain slicing through her as she remembered Xie Wujiao dying in her arms. “Who are you, really?” she asked, voice choked.

He hesitated, lost in memory, then answered, “I was a retainer of the Xie family, raised alongside Xie Wujiao. We played and trained together. To avenge my family, I’ve lived in enemy shadows, enduring danger and loneliness, searching for a chance. Now, I’ve found it. Together, we can uncover the conspiracy and clear the Xie family’s name.”

In the flickering torchlight, Xiao Chenbi saw the unwavering resolve in his eyes. Her doubts, tangled as they were, began to dissipate. She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Very well. Together.”

Side by side, they pressed on through the damp, musty passage. Moss glowed faintly on the walls; the man pointed out hazards, while Xiao Chenbi stepped with utmost caution, wary of hidden traps.

At last, they reached a heavy stone door, its surface rough and scarred by time, carved with strange, ancient symbols. The man crouched, scrutinizing the markings, tracing their lines, his brow furrowed in concentration. At last, he smiled—he had found the key. With practiced hands, he pressed several precise points on the door.

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A low, rumbling groan sounded, as if the earth itself sighed, and the stone door slowly parted. Beyond lay a vast chamber, thick with the air of ages. Ancient artifacts lined the walls, some ceremonial, some arcane. In the center, towering shelves were crammed with books and scrolls, a secret archive lost to time.

Cautiously, Xiao Chenbi and the man entered, treading lightly so as not to disturb the silence. They began their search, eyes darting over the shelves for any clue. Xiao Chenbi carefully opened a yellowed book, scanning the pages for useful information, while the man pored over records, missing nothing.

Suddenly, they heard commotion outside—voices approaching rapidly. They exchanged wary glances, then ducked behind a bookshelf, pressing close together, barely daring to breathe.

Moments later, armored soldiers burst in, eyes fierce, blades drawn, boots thudding ominously. They searched the chamber, scanning for any sign of their quarry. Xiao Chenbi and her companion held their breath, hearts pounding.

As the soldiers neared their hiding place, the man sprang out with a roar, striking like a tiger and felling several before they could react. Xiao Chenbi joined in with a cry, her sword flashing with cold light, and the room erupted in chaos.

Swords clashed, shouts filled the air. Though both fought valiantly, the sheer number of enemies began to wear them down. Sweat streamed from their brows, breath coming fast. When all seemed lost, a sudden, powerful presence surged from the far corner—a tide of energy that made every heart tremble.

On the darkened street above, a mysterious figure appeared, shrouded in mist as if stepping from another world. Dressed in snowy robes that fluttered in the breeze, he carried a sword whose blade gleamed with icy light, hinting at countless fierce battles. His gaze was deep and intimidating, as sharp as starlight, radiating awe and mystery.

A horde of vicious soldiers pressed in on Xiao Chenbi and her companion, weapons raised, snarling threats. At that perilous moment, the stranger intervened. Moving like a white flash, he weaved through the soldiers, swordplay fluid as running water, each stroke powerful and deadly. Wherever his blade passed, enemies fell, their screams echoing down the street.

In the tension-charged night, the stranger fought alongside Xiao Chenbi and her companion, his every strike breaking the enemy’s ranks. Xiao Chenbi matched his skill, her sword seeking vital points, while her companion fought with equal bravery, their teamwork flawless.

At last, under the stranger’s lead, they drove the soldiers back. Panting, they leaned against the old, vine-covered wall, sweat soaking their clothes, grateful to have survived. Their eyes brimmed with curiosity—who was this mysterious savior?

“Who are you? Why did you help us?” Xiao Chenbi broke the silence, his voice hoarse but steady, eyes wary as he searched the stranger’s face.

The stranger smiled, a gentle curve that seemed to have a calming magic, as warm as spring sunlight, easing their fear. “Who I am is unimportant. What matters is that we share the same goal. I am here to uncover the truth. In this seemingly peaceful world, too many secrets and conspiracies lie hidden. Only by joining forces can we bring everything to light.” His voice was calm and powerful, filled with confidence and resolve.

At his words, Xiao Chenbi and her companion exchanged a glance—a spark of trust and shared determination passing between them. Together, they resolved to pursue the truth.

They made their way to a hidden archive on the city’s edge, walls high and thick, doors rusted shut, as if guarding endless secrets. Inside, the air was thick with dust and the scent of old books; the weak light cast ghostly shadows among rows of shelves crowded with records and tomes.

They divided their tasks. Xiao Chenbi scoured the shelves, eyes sharp for any detail, opening each book with care. Her companion tackled the mountain of documents on the table, scrutinizing each page. The stranger searched every corner, checking for hidden clues—examining the floor, walls, and any sign of a mechanism.

At last, Xiao Chenbi found an old, faded book in a dusty corner. Brushing off the dust, he opened it and found critical clues—threads of mystery weaving together, pointing to a secret organization behind everything.

This organization operated from the shadows, its hand behind the Xie family massacre and Xiao Chenbi’s downfall—a conspiracy orchestrated from the darkness. With fierce resolve, the three vowed to follow the trail and expose the truth.

But as they searched, the organization was already aware of their movements. In the archive’s darkest corners, pairs of sinister eyes watched, full of malice and calculation. A fiercer, more brutal contest was about to begin...