Chapter 167: The Generals of Heaven Descend
The Plains Before Dawn
Mist clung to the charred fields where Hei Long had shattered the empire’s first army. The ground still reeked of ash and blood, but silence now lay heavy over the plains. Only the watchtower remained, a lone shadow against the paling sky.
But beyond the mist, the earth trembled. Not with thousands of boots, but with fewer — heavier — steps. Each one pressed deeper into the soil, as though the world itself bowed before their weight.
The Generals of Heaven had come.
Their Arrival
The first appeared at sunrise: General Feng Jiutian, the River-Splitter. His blade was a slab of steel taller than a man, etched with scars of rivers it had once parted. When he walked, the mist curled aside as if unwilling to touch him.
Beside him strode Lady Huo Lian, the Phoenix Wreath. Flames crowned her shoulders, her robes unburned, her steps leaving scorched prints in the earth. Her eyes glowed red, as though her blood itself was fire.
The last came in silence: Xuan Mo, the Blade of Stillness. No aura, no flame, no roar — only quiet. Yet every soldier, every disciple who followed behind faltered when he passed, for the air around him felt like the edge of a sword drawn across the throat.
Three legends, walking to erase inevitability.
Hei Long’s Stand
From the tower’s balcony, Hei Long watched. Cloak rippling, cord at his wrist swaying. His eyes did not widen. His breath did not shift. He looked upon the empire’s greatest weapons as though seeing kindling piled for a fire.
"Good," he murmured. "At last, they send something worth burning."
Behind him, his women readied.
Qingxue strapped her sword tighter, pride blazing hotter than fear.
Yexin spun her fan, illusions shimmering at her fingertips.
Yuran whispered prayers as her hands glowed, her light trembling but steady.
They stood together, sparks bound into flame.
Hei Long stepped forward, his voice carrying across the plains:
"You call them generals. I call them tinder. Let the heavens descend... and burn."
The Battle Begins
The River-Splitter swung his colossal blade. Earth split. Rivers screamed. The land itself turned against Hei Long.
The Phoenix Wreath raised her arms. Flames poured down from the sky, drowning the plains in crimson fire.
The Blade of Stillness unsheathed nothing — yet every heartbeat stuttered, every breath threatened to end beneath invisible steel.
And against them, Hei Long raised his hand.
The battlefield bent.
Shadows swallowed flame, fire curled back upon itself, silence shattered against inevitability.
The Generals of Heaven had descended.The empire had unleashed its sharpest blades.
And fire rose to meet them.
The River-Splitter Strikes
General Feng Jiutian moved first. His colossal blade roared downward, cleaving not only stone but the land itself. A fissure tore through the battlefield, rivers surging as though dragged by his will. The ground beneath Hei Long split into chaos.
But Qingxue was already there. Steel clashed with steel, her sword screaming as it met a river-splitting strike. The impact threw her back, her knees buckling, but her pride flared hotter. She spat blood, raised her blade, and shouted:"I am his edge — and no river will drown me!"
Her sword flashed again, carving against impossible weight. Each strike shattered boulders and split currents, her loyalty anchoring her strength.
The Phoenix Wreath Descends
Lady Huo Lian raised her hands, and the heavens themselves burned. Flames poured downward in crimson pillars, scorching the battlefield into molten ruin. Her laughter was a hymn of destruction.
But Yexin answered fire with fire. Her fan snapped open, illusions blooming into dozens of phantom women wreathed in foxfire. They danced between the flames, scattering heat and light into chaos.
"You’ll need more than pretty fire to outshine me," Yexin mocked, her laughter carrying through the inferno. Illusions twisted into mirrored flame, swallowing Huo Lian’s power until the phoenix’s wings faltered.
The Blade of Stillness
Xuan Mo did not move. His eyes closed, his silence deeper than death. Yet suddenly Qingxue staggered, her breath caught — Yexin clutched her chest, her laughter stilled — Yuran’s prayer broke.
An invisible cut. The world itself severed.
Hei Long stepped forward. His cloak shuddered, his gaze locked on the silent general. "You wield absence," he said. "But absence bends to inevitability."
The cord at his wrist glowed. The silence cracked. Sound returned in a thunderclap. The Blade of Stillness faltered — for the first time in centuries.
Yuran’s Anchor
Through flame, through steel, through silence, Zhao Yuran’s trembling hands glowed brighter. Every cut Qingxue suffered, every scorch Yexin endured, she healed. Her threads of spirit light wove into the battlefield itself, stitching cracks in the land, binding shadows to form.
Her voice shook but carried: "Even if the heavens fall, I will hold us together."
And the Generals faltered. Not before strength. Not before fire. But before the healer who refused to break.
Hei Long’s Step
At last, Hei Long raised his hand.
The rivers froze mid-surge. The phoenix flames bent back toward their master. The silence of Xuan Mo collapsed into a scream.
"You are called Heaven’s Generals," Hei Long said. His cloak flared, shadow swallowing horizon and sky alike. "But Heaven itself burns when fire rises. And I am inevitability."
The battlefield split in two — one half smoldering ruin, the other swallowed in shadow.
And the Generals of Heaven, who had never bowed to throne or empire, found themselves facing a man the world itself could not refuse.
The River-Splitter’s Desperation
Blood streamed from General Feng Jiutian’s lips, but his roar shook the battlefield. Planting his colossal blade into the torn earth, he called upon its final secret — a technique forbidden even among sect masters. Rivers surged unnaturally, climbing skyward in twisting serpents of water that turned to blades.
"Even inevitability can drown!" he bellowed, hurling torrents at Hei Long.
But Qingxue met them. Her sword cut through the roaring serpents, sparks flashing against liquid steel. Her arms bled, her knees buckled, but her pride burned. "If he cannot drown, then neither can I!"
Each swing shattered a river-blade until the current itself knelt at her feet.
The Phoenix Burns Herself
Lady Huo Lian’s flames grew brighter, no longer crimson but white-hot, her phoenix wreath devouring even the air. Her robes blackened, her hair burned, her very body turning to cinders. Yet her laughter echoed above the flames.
"I will burn brighter than your inevitability!"
The inferno surged toward Hei Long — but Yexin’s laughter answered it.
Her illusions twisted into phoenixes of her own, flames folding against flames, reflections scattering Huo Lian’s fire until the general’s body staggered. Yexin’s fan snapped shut, her smile sharp through exhaustion. "Your fire blinds. Mine deceives. But his consumes."
And the Phoenix Wreath crumbled into ash.
The Blade Breaks
Xuan Mo remained still. His silence deepened until even the screams of dying soldiers vanished. The world itself trembled in anticipation of a single strike.
The cut came unseen. Qingxue stumbled, Yexin gasped, Yuran collapsed to her knees.
But Hei Long stepped into the silence. Shadows wrapped around the invisible blade, and inevitability severed absence itself.
"You are stillness," Hei Long said. "But stillness dies when fire moves."
His hand closed. The Blade of Stillness cracked. Xuan Mo fell.
The Generals Fall
The plains quaked. Feng Jiutian’s rivers scattered back into the earth. Huo Lian’s flames guttered into smoke. Xuan Mo lay broken, his silence gone.
The Generals of Heaven — the empire’s sharpest blades, the Empress’s last bulwark — lay defeated.
Hei Long stood among them, cloak trailing, cord at his wrist glowing faintly. Behind him, Qingxue bled but unbowed, Yexin smirking through exhaustion, Yuran trembling as her light anchored them all.
The battlefield lay in ruin, but fire remained.
Hei Long looked north, toward the palace, his voice calm and merciless.
"Heaven’s Generals have fallen. The throne is next."
Whispers in the Capital
News of the battle traveled faster than any courier. By the time dawn broke over the palace spires, rumors were already carving through the city like knives. The Generals of Heaven are dead. Some claimed their bodies still smoldered on the northern plains. Others whispered they had vanished into shadow, erased as though the world itself had disowned them.
Merchants closed their stalls. Nobles barred their gates. Sect disciples whispered behind trembling fans. The empire had watched its greatest blades unsheathed... and shattered.
The Court in Uproar
Inside the palace, the ministers argued until their voices cracked.
"Three women and one man!" one spat, eyes wide with terror. "They have undone centuries of imperial strength!"
Another shouted back, "No — this is her will! The Empress allows this to test us. She could crush them any moment."
But the words rang hollow. Beneath their shouting, fear coiled like smoke.
Yan Yiren stood silently at the Empress’s side, her gaze flickering with something more complicated than loyalty.
The Empress Alone
In her private chamber, the Empress set aside her veil. For the first time in years, her expression broke. Anger, yes — but also something colder, sharper.
"They were meant to be legends," she whispered. "Now they are warnings."
She turned her gaze toward the northern horizon, where even she could feel the tremor of inevitability that lingered after Hei Long’s victory.
"This will not be war of armies," she said. "This will be war of thrones."
Her fingers tightened around the jade of her throne’s armrest until it cracked.
The Fire’s Refuge
In the watchtower, Hei Long’s women lay battered but unbroken.
Qingxue’s sword rested across her knees, notched and bloodstained, but her pride shone fiercer than steel.Yexin’s fan trembled in her hand, her laughter brittle but alive, her illusions still flickering at the edges of the room.Yuran’s hands glowed faintly as she tended wounds, her breath ragged but her resolve unshaken.
Hei Long stood at the center, cloak trailing, the cord at his wrist swaying in the silence.
"The empire trembles," he said softly. "They sent their armies. They sent their legends. And still, they could not break inevitability."
He looked at them — not rivals, not sparks, but fire.
"The throne itself will move next."
And the three women knew: the world had already changed.