The Decree
The Empress's voice spread like a knife through silk. Another decree was posted before dawn, carved into jade plaques and carried through every street of the capital:
"Hei Long will stand trial — not of strength, but of loyalty. His flames will swear before the court whether they are his… or the empire's."
No one misunderstood. It was not their swords the Empress sought to break this time. It was their bond.
The Court Gathers
The great hall was filled to breaking. Nobles in layered silks, sect masters with their disciples behind them, ministers fanning themselves nervously. The crowd was hungry for a fracture, for proof that the empire was not bending beneath one man's shadow.
At the dais, the Empress sat enthroned, her veil crimson, her expression unreadable. Yan Yiren lingered at her side, her smile faint, her eyes sharp.
