The camp lay in uneasy silence. Smoke still rose from the torches that had been snuffed out by the Chainbearer's assault. Soldiers huddled in clusters, eyes darting between the shadows and the trio at the center.
Jeng Minh's mind raced. Two choices, yet neither felt safe. Follow Bai Ye into a shadowy world of unknown powers—or comply with imperial summons, stepping into a trap meticulously crafted to end him.
He looked at Xie Yaling first. Her posture was rigid, unwavering, the emblem of imperial authority gleaming even in the flickering light. "If I go with you," he said slowly, "the Emperor will declare me a traitor immediately. He'll send an army after Feng, after the men who follow me."
She didn't flinch. "Then your choice will mark more than your own life. You must decide based on what you value most."
Jeng Minh's gaze shifted to Bai Ye. The masked figure's presence was calm but overwhelming—like a storm that had yet to strike. "And if I follow you?" he asked, voice low. "If I abandon the imperial summons?"
Bai Ye's fingers flexed slightly. "You will awaken the chain within yourself before the old order can sever it. You will be stronger, yes… but danger will hunt you relentlessly. The path will be harder than any battlefield you've faced."
A cold wind swept across the camp, carrying the faint metallic chime that had heralded the Chainbearer's arrival. Jeng Minh felt it reverberate in his chest, like a warning heartbeat. The voice from Lianyin's warning echoed again:
"The blade meant to sever fate is already near you."
He closed his eyes, feeling Zhou Chen's memories, Jeng Minh's instincts, and the pulsing, unfamiliar force inside him merge.
He knew something fundamental: waiting would not save him. Choosing the imperial path meant chains would tighten; choosing Bai Ye meant plunging into darkness without knowing what awaited.
His eyes snapped open. He took a step toward Bai Ye.
"I follow you," he said.
Xie Yaling's eyes narrowed, blade still raised. "You… abandon the Emperor?"
"I abandon the trap," Jeng Minh corrected. "The Emperor has many mouths, many knives. I don't need their summons. I need to control my own fate."
Bai Ye inclined his head once, almost imperceptibly. "Wise. But heed this—the chain will test you, and it will not forgive weakness. If you fail, not only will you die, but all who are tied to your bloodline will feel its undoing."
Feng stepped forward, his voice rough with disbelief. "My lord! This is madness! You can't just abandon the empire. Do you realize what you're doing?"
Jeng Minh's gaze met his general's. "I do. But the empire's chains are not meant to protect me—they're meant to bind me. If I walk into the capital, I am dead the moment I arrive. If I walk with Bai Ye, I might survive… and grow strong enough to face them on my terms."
Feng hesitated, seeing the determination in Jeng Minh's eyes. Then he took a deep breath. "If you lead, we follow."
Xie Yaling finally lowered her blade, though wariness lingered in her posture. "Then I will watch," she said coldly. "And if you step into treason, know that I will be the one to stop you."
Bai Ye extended a gloved hand. Jeng Minh took it. The moment their fingers touched, a surge of energy coursed through him—cold, sharp, and intoxicating.
Visions flashed before his eyes:A throne shrouded in blood.Chains snapping.A blade descending to sever fate itself.And somewhere, deep within, a spark—his own consciousness fighting to remain unbroken.
When the visions subsided, Jeng Minh's resolve was iron.
He turned to his companions. "Prepare the horses. We ride at first light. And everyone… stay sharp. The chain will not rest, and neither will those who wish me dead."
Feng gave a curt nod. "Understood. My sword is yours, Lord Zhou."
Xie Yaling's gaze lingered on Jeng Minh. "Then I will see if your choice is courage… or folly."
Bai Ye's masked face turned toward the forest, where the Chainbearer had vanished. "The old chain will strike again," he said. "And next time, the game will be far more dangerous."
Jeng Minh gripped Zhou Chen's spear tightly. The weight of his new body, the soul of his old self, and the burden of destiny pressed on him. But he didn't waver.
Because for the first time, he realized: he wasn't just a pawn anymore. He was a player. And the game—his game—had only just begun.
As dawn broke over the horizon, casting pale light over the camp, the group mounted their horses.
And in the distance, faint and metallic, the sound of chains dragging across stone echoed through the morning mist.
The chase had begun.