The third morning arrived beneath a sky of pale silver, clouds dragging low over the mountains like veils of mourning. Rui stood atop a cliff's edge, the wind tugging at his robes, his silver hair fluttering like threads of moonlight. Below stretched the Valley of Wéi Xiàn...vast, haunting, and eerily quiet.
Birdsong had vanished.
The air felt... wrong.
He turned as Li Yuan approached, dressed not in imperial finery but a traveling cloak of dark crimson, sword slung across his back. He paused beside Rui, eyes scanning the valley below.
"You feel it too," Rui said.
Li Yuan nodded slowly. "This place has seen blood before. It remembers."
They stood in silence a moment longer, until Rui broke it.
"Do you still think this journey was a good idea?"
Li Yuan's eyes didn't leave the valley. "No. But I think it was necessary."
The Night Before
They had camped by the temple ruins the night before—the final stop before entering the valley. The guards had been oddly restless, their laughter too loud, their glances too frequent. Rui didn't sleep. Not really.
He had sat by the embers long after the fire had died, cloak wrapped around his shoulders, heart heavy with unspoken questions.
Li Yuan joined him after midnight.
"You should sleep," Rui whispered.
Li Yuan dropped beside him. "So should you."
"I can't."
Li Yuan glanced sideways. "Are you still afraid of the prophecy?"
"No," Rui said truthfully. "I'm afraid of what it will cost."
They were silent again, listening to the soft rustling of wind through ancient stones.
Rui looked at him, eyes shining in the dark. "What if they're right? What if I really do bring ruin?"
Li Yuan shifted closer, voice low. "Then I'll gladly burn if it means I burn beside you."
Rui stared at him. "Don't say such things"
"Why not?"
"Because you mean it."
Li Yuan's hand found his.
"I do."
Their lips met—not with violence this time, not with frustration or fury. It was tentative, searching, filled with unspoken ache. Rui pressed closer, trembling under the weight of it all. For once, they didn't speak. They simply breathed each other in.
But when morning came, Rui awoke alone.
And he knew something was coming.
Into the Trap
By midday, the imperial convoy entered the Valley of Wéi Xiàn
It should have been a place of beauty—golden grasslands stretching between craggy cliffs, with a silver river carving through the center. But the silence was suffocating. Not a bird, not a breeze. Only the distant clink of hooves on stone.
Rui's horse shifted uneasily. He gripped the reins tighter.
Then he saw it.
A glint on the ridge above them.
"Li Yuan—!"
But it was too late.
An arrow screamed through the air. It struck one of the guards through the throat. Then chaos erupted.
A dozen more arrows followed, raining down from both sides of the valley. Men screamed. Horses reared. The imperial banner toppled.
"Ambush!" someone cried.
Li Yuan was already moving, drawing his sword with fluid grace. He swung from his horse, slicing down a cloaked attacker who had leapt from behind a rock. "Protect Rui!"
But Rui had drawn a blade of his own—sleek and narrow, a gift from the mountain temple. He moved like wind through reeds, precise and elegant, cutting down two men before they touched him.
"Stay close!" Li Yuan barked.
They fought back to back, blades flashing like silver lightning in the dust. Rui's cultivation surged through his veins, awakening with the heat of battle. Runes flared on his arms, ancient and wild, casting bursts of divine light as he moved.
One of the enemy soldiers shouted, "It's him! The silver-eyed witch!"
They pressed harder.
Blood and Betrayal
From the cliffs above, a lone figure watched Minister Yu Lian.
He stood beside a foreign general, arms crossed. "Strike harder," he muttered. "Don't let them escape."
But the general hesitated. "He fights like a god."
Yu Lian scowled. "Then kill him like a man."
Back in the valley, Rui was panting, blood spattering his robe, but his eyes were clear. He saw the betrayal in full now—the missing guards, the oddly sparse escort, the delay in reinforcements. They had never intended for them to return.
He turned to Li Yuan. "This is no mere bandit attack. They sent these men for us."
"I know," Li Yuan growled, cutting down a blade aimed for Rui's throat.
"We have to get out of the valley," Rui gasped. "They're funneling us."
Li Yuan scanned the ridge. "There. The riverbank."
They moved fast, breaking through the outer ring of attackers. Rui summoned a gust of divine wind from the tattoos glowing on his arms, flinging several men into the cliffs with inhuman force.
They reached the river and crossed, soaked and shivering—but alive.
Only a handful of guards remained.
Li Yuan turned back once, eyes narrowing. "This was coordinated. Carefully."
Rui nodded grimly. "They knew where we'd be."
The Aftermath
Night fell again, cloaking the valley in moonlight. The survivors gathered in a cave hidden in the rocks. Rui sat against the wall, robe torn and damp, hair clinging to his face.
Li Yuan crouched before him.
"You're bleeding."
"I'll live."
Li Yuan reached for his hand, then paused. "I'm sorry."
Rui looked at him, voice brittle. "Why? For dragging me into your war?"
"No," Li Yuan said softly. "For making you fall in love with me when I still don't know how to protect you."
Rui blinked, " And who told you I fell with you?" Rui said with a calm, yet sarcastic tone.
"Do you think I didn't notice?" the emperor whispered. "That your eyes burn every time I touch you? That you wake from dreams you never tell me about?"
He leaned closer. "You're more than prophecy, Rui. You're more than the bloodline and the gods. You're mine."
Rui's lips parted—but he didn't speak.
Instead, he looked down.
"You shouldn't say that."
"Why?"
"Because I want to believe you."
The emperor left Rui's side, and went outside the cave. Thinking about how he was betrayed. He knew what was going to happen, but he still felt betrayed by his kingdom. Anger surged through his entire body, forcing him to use cultivation to destroy a nearby mountain top.
This scene drew the attention of the Minister and his assassins.