The household of Liang awoke to the beat of war drums echoing faintly from the northern horizon. Though Jiangdu still stood unscathed, every heart within the city knew that danger crept closer with each passing day. Soldiers marched through the streets, and even children played at swordfighting with sticks, mimicking the warriors they saw patrolling the gates.
Inside the manor, Liang Yue sat before the silk scroll her mother had left behind. She traced the faded ink with delicate fingers, memorizing each brushstroke. The words whispered of balance, breath, and the spirit of the blade—teachings that stirred something fierce inside her.
Her chamber door slid open abruptly. Lady Yun, Yue's stepmother, entered in a flourish of embroidered robes. Her eyes swept the room with disdain before settling on Yue.
"You neglect your duties again," Lady Yun said coldly. "While other young ladies of noble houses practice their embroidery, you lock yourself away. Do you intend to bring further shame to this family?"
Yue bowed politely, though fire simmered beneath her calm. "The world burns, Lady Yun. Embroidery will not save us when the enemy reaches Jiangdu's gates."
Lady Yun's eyes narrowed. "And do you think you, a girl, will save us with a sword? Foolish child. You were born to marry well, not to fight."
Yue's lips curved in the faintest of smiles. "Then perhaps I was born wrong."
Lady Yun gasped, scandalized. "Such insolence! I will tell your father of this rebellion." With a swish of her sleeves, she stormed out, leaving Yue alone with her racing thoughts.
When evening came, Yue returned to the abandoned courtyard. Old He awaited her, a bamboo staff in hand. He had trained her in secret for weeks now, each lesson sharpening her body and mind. Tonight, his face was grave.
"Your strikes grow stronger," he said, watching as Yue lunged and turned, the wooden sword whistling through the air. "But strength without discipline is a double-edged blade. Tell me, Yue—why do you seek this path?"
She paused, breathing heavily. Sweat gleamed on her brow, yet her eyes shone with unyielding light. "Because no one else will. My father bows to the court, my stepmother hides behind silk, and the ministers bleed us dry. If the House of Liang is to survive, someone must fight for it. If that burden falls to me, then so be it."
Old He studied her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Your resolve is clear. But resolve alone is not enough. To walk the martial path, you must be ready to bear pain, loss, and betrayal."
"I am ready," Yue whispered.
The old steward smiled faintly, the wrinkles of his face deepening. "Then tonight, you no longer train as a child in secret. Tonight, you take your first step as a cultivator of the blade."
He showed her how to steady her breath, how to sink her spirit into her dantian, and how to let her qi flow through her limbs. Yue closed her eyes, focusing. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, as the night wind stirred the blossoms overhead, she felt a warmth unfurl inside her chest, like a spark catching flame.
Her wooden sword glowed faintly beneath the moonlight.
Old He's eyes widened. "So it awakens… the bloodline truly sings within her."
Yue opened her eyes, startled by the faint shimmer. "Uncle He, what is this?"
He shook his head. "Not yet. In time, you will know."
Before she could question further, a shout rang from the manor gates. Servants scurried, voices rising in panic. Yue rushed with Old He toward the commotion.
At the entrance, a group of wounded soldiers stumbled in, their armor dented, their faces streaked with blood. "The northern armies advance!" one cried, collapsing to his knees. "Villages have fallen… Jiangdu may be next!"
Gasps rippled through the household. Lord Liang appeared, his face pale but stern. He ordered the soldiers tended to, but Yue saw the tremor in his hands.
As chaos spread, Yue stood at the edge of the courtyard, her heart pounding. War was no longer a distant rumor. It was here, pressing at their gates. And though her father forbade it, though her stepmother scorned it, Yue knew what she must do.
She touched the wooden sword at her side.
If no one else will protect the House of Liang, then I will.
And far away, in the darkened roads beyond Jiangdu, Wei Chen walked steadily toward the city, his blade at his hip. Smoke still clung to his cloak, the memory of battle etched into his eyes. Each step brought him closer to the House of Liang—closer to the girl who would change his fate.
The threads of destiny pulled tighter.