Tie Ling's laughter echoed softly through the chamber, though her words carried the weight of sincerity.
"I have heard stories about you since I came to this realm. Many people praise you, Father."
Taiyi studied his daughter's face as if trying to memorize every curve and feature. Her silver hair shimmered in the lamplight, strands so much like his own that it stirred both pride and regret in his chest. "Does your mother know about this?" he asked gently.
Tie Ling shook her head, eyes sparkling with mischief. "No. She doesn't. I saw a picture of you hidden in her library and began asking questions. And then… I found books written about you. Stories of the Heavenly Emperor who once ruled the realms." She nestled closer into his arms, smiling.
Taiyi chuckled softly, brushing her hair back from her face. "Books may carry my name, but to me, you are proof I ever lived at all. No matter how the world sees me, you will always be the child who tugged at my robe when the storms frightened you."
Her expression softened. "Mom and I once went back to Qin state in the mortal realm. She was… different there. Nostalgic. Her eyes seemed lost in memories."
Taiyi's smile dimmed. "I went back as well. But I could not stay. The Heavenly Dao rejects me, Ling'er. The longer I linger in mortal soil, the more the world pushes me away. But still…" He paused, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. "Some places never fade. Even when history erases names, the land remembers."
Tie Ling's breathing slowed, her lashes fluttering as sleep claimed her. Even in slumber, her small hand clutched tightly at the edge of his sleeve. Taiyi sat unmoving for a long time, letting the quiet warmth seep into him, before carefully laying her upon her bed.
He remained for a moment longer, watching the rise and fall of her chest, before vanishing into the night.
---
The War Council....
Far from the Fire Realm, the atmosphere was entirely different. The valley camp pulsed with restless energy. Fires burned high, casting harsh light over rows of soldiers polishing armor, sharpening weapons, or simply staring grimly into the flames. War banners swayed against the night sky, their shadows stretching long across the earth like the claws of some unseen beast.
Within the great command tent, voices clashed louder than steel. Generals and lords pounded fists against the wooden table, their faces flushed with outrage.
"Our men are still broken from the last campaign!" one general roared. "We agreed to time for recovery, yet here we are again, summoned for another slaughter!"
"The reserves are depleted," another spat bitterly. "If we march now, half our soldiers will collapse before reaching the battlefield. This is madness."
The heated arguments died the moment Elliot entered. His steps were steady, deliberate, and each man bowed his head as he strode to the throne at the center of the tent. He sat, silent, his cold eyes sweeping the assembly. The weight of his presence pressed down until the last murmurs choked into silence.
"My lord," one of the bolder generals finally spoke, voice cautious, "we no longer possess the resources for another war. Unless we deploy the elites, we stand no chance of victory."
"Oh?" Elliot's voice was calm, almost amused. "And why is that?"
The general swallowed hard. "The soldiers are wounded, the veterans exhausted. We need time, my lord. Without it, this war will cost us dearly."
Elliot's smile spread—calm, merciless. "Then deploy the elites. Heal the wounded at the Holy Spring. In one month's time, we march."
A heavy silence filled the tent. Faces paled, jaws clenched, yet none dared to object further. Orders were orders.
As the commanders dispersed, Elliot remained seated, his gaze drifting toward the night beyond the tent flaps. In the depths of his soul, he felt the pull of the Heavenly Dao—the chain that bound him, the voice that whispered commands. Taiyi had returned. His presence alone sent tremors through the heavens. And as long as Taiyi lived, Elliot knew, the Dao would never allow peace.
"This will be my final battle," he murmured to himself. "But if I must end… let it be against a foe worthy of remembrance."
---
🌌 The Rooftop Confrontation
The Fire Realm was quiet, its flames subdued beneath the canopy of stars. Taiyi's divine sense swept through the realm until he found her—not in her chambers, but alone upon a rooftop, a jug of wine beside her, her phoenix robes flowing like fire in the night wind.
He approached without a word, settling beside her and lifting the jug before she could protest. The wine burned down his throat, sharp but not unpleasant, before he passed it back.
Feng Jiu did not look at him, her gaze fixed upon the heavens. "When did you return?"
"Just now," Taiyi replied, his voice low. "I was with Tie Ling. Thank you… for carrying her burdens when I could not."
Her grip tightened on the jug. "And where were you while I carried them alone?"
The words struck like knives, but Taiyi did not flinch. He leaned back on his palms, watching the stars as if they might offer him refuge. "In battles you could not see. Against enemies you could not fight. Every choice I made was to keep you both hidden, safe."
Feng Jiu finally turned, her eyes sharp as blades. "Safe? Do you know how many nights she cried, asking where her father was? Do you know what it is to answer questions with silence because the truth would break her?"
Taiyi's chest tightened. He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. The rooftop wind carried the weight of their silence before he spoke again.
"I did not return because I was not strong enough. If I came back too soon, I would have led destruction to your door. I needed to climb higher, to carve out a strength that even the Heavenly Dao itself would fear. Only then could I stand before you as a man, not a hunted shadow."
Her lips trembled, but her eyes held firm. "Strength… Always strength. When will you ever fight for us, Taiyi? Not for the realms, not for the heavens—but for your family?"
Taiyi froze. The question pierced deeper than any blade. He thought of the mortal days with her, of laughter around fires, of Tie Ling chasing butterflies across meadows. Days when he had no throne, no burden, no Heavenly Dao pressing down upon him.
Quietly, he answered. "I fight because I want to return to those days. To be free, unfettered. To hold you both without fear that the sky itself will strike us down. That is my dao."
Feng Jiu's expression softened, though tears welled in her phoenix eyes. For a long moment she simply stared at him, as though searching for the man she had once loved.
"I don't know if I can believe you," she whispered. "But I want to. Give me time, Taiyi."
He nodded, rising to his feet. "Then time I will give. Tomorrow, prepare yourself—we are going somewhere."
Before she could ask where, his figure dissolved into the night, leaving only the faint warmth of his presence lingering beside her. Feng Jiu lifted the jug of wine and drank deeply, her tears falling silently into the firelit wind.