Chapter 171: Crowns in the West
The Nobles Stir
The west did not kneel. While the south smoldered in ash, the noble houses fortified their manors, hoarding food and weapons, each proclaiming themselves heirs to the empire. Some declared themselves kings of their valleys, others emperors of "new dawns." Banners stitched in midnight silk or golden thread fluttered over towers.
But beneath the noise of proclamations, fear gnawed at their foundations. They knew what had burned in the south. They whispered of the man who had turned a throne of relics into dust. Still, pride makes fools of men — and pride is what the west wore as its armor.
The Watchtower Decides
In the fractured tower, Hei Long’s women gathered again.
Qingxue stood at the window, gazing toward the western hills. "Steel fortresses. Fortified manors. They think themselves mountains." She drew her blade, the edge glinting like ice. "Then let me be the avalanche."
Yexin smirked, illusions shimmering faintly at her shoulders. "Nobles are easier than sects. Feed them lies, show them shadows, and they’ll tear each other apart before you even arrive."
Yuran knelt at Hei Long’s side, her hands folded. "They’ll send envoys first. Gold. Daughters. Poison hidden in gifts. I will keep you whole until their masks fall."
Hei Long turned from them, cloak trailing across cracked stone. His voice was calm, merciless.
"They call themselves kings. But crowns born in panic are crowns already burning. I will not march on them. I will let them march on me. And then, I will show the world what happens when ash crowns itself."
Sparks Between Them
But as silence returned, sparks kindled hotter than war.
Qingxue’s pride bristled when Yexin smirked too long at Hei Long.Yexin’s laughter sharpened when Yuran knelt too close, her trembling devotion louder than steel.Yuran’s breath caught when Hei Long’s shadow lingered over the others more than her.
Not rivals. Not sparks. Fire. But fire threatened to burn itself as much as the world.
Hei Long did not soothe. He let it smolder. He let it bind. His silence weighed heavier than crowns.
The World Tilts
Envoys already raced from the west. Their horses foamed at the mouth, their hands carried gilded letters, their tongues ready with bribes.
But the fire had begun to move again.
The nobles thought themselves mountains. Hei Long would show them mountains still crumble before inevitability.
And the world braced for another crown to burn.
The Noble Gambit
The western nobles had always wrapped themselves in silks and walls, convinced their wealth could buy heaven’s blessing. But the fall of the southern coalition forced their hand. They would not march yet. They would test
.So they sent an envoy.
A gilded carriage rolled across the northern plains, guarded by knights in polished steel, banners stitched with lions and stags fluttering above. Within rode Lord Helan’s heir, draped in velvet, carrying letters sealed in gold. His tongue was sharp with practiced diplomacy, his hands trembling beneath the weight of dread.
The envoy’s words were simple: "Ally with us. Take a noble crown. Rule as emperor by our side, or be hunted as a usurper."
The Watchtower Audience
The carriage stopped before the broken tower. The heir stepped inside, his guards left behind. He expected a hall of ministers, a throne of jade. Instead, he found Hei Long seated in shadow, cloak trailing across cracked stone, three women at his side — steel, foxfire, and light.
Qingxue’s blade lay unsheathed across her lap, eyes sharp as she sized him up.Yexin smirked, illusions flickering in the corners of the chamber, her fan hiding laughter.Yuran knelt closest to Hei Long, her glow faint but steady, hands folded as if in prayer.
The envoy’s voice quivered. "My lords offer you legitimacy. Marry into our house. Take the west as your throne. Together, we rebuild the empire."
Hei Long did not answer. His silence pressed down heavier than walls. The cord at his wrist swayed once, twice.
The Women Speak
Qingxue’s voice cut first, cold steel. "You offer him crowns as if inevitability kneels to gifts."
Yexin’s laughter followed, sharp and mocking. "Legitimacy? From you? The world already knows who it bows to."
Yuran’s whisper was softer, but firmer still. "He doesn’t need your crown. He already burned the last one."
The envoy trembled. His gold-sealed letters shook in his hands.
Hei Long’s Verdict
At last, Hei Long raised his gaze. His words were quiet, merciless.
"You built crowns from fear. You offer them to me as chains. Fire wears no chains. And inevitability does not beg."
He raised his hand. The letters burst into ash. The envoy dropped to his knees, choking on smoke.
"Tell your lords," Hei Long said, his cloak rippling, "their walls will not save them. Crowns built in panic burn fastest."
The envoy fled, stumbling into the night, his guards scattering like frightened dogs.
Fire Moves West
Hei Long turned to his women, his eyes glimmering.
"The south is ash. The west builds crowns of fear. Then we march west. And when their walls fall, the world will learn again: inevitability does not kneel."
Qingxue tightened her grip on her blade. Yexin smirked, her illusions already weaving flames. Yuran pressed her trembling hands together, whispering steady prayers.
The tower’s shadow stretched westward.The nobles’ crowns had already begun to burn.
The Fortress of Helan
The western nobles gathered their strength behind walls older than dynasties. Lord Helan’s fortress, carved into the side of a mountain, loomed like a black crown above the valley. Its gates were ironwood, bound with spirit seals. Towers bristled with archers, their arrows tipped with poison. Relics glowed faintly along the battlements, centuries of hoarded power woven into stone.
The lords within feasted still, draped in silks, cups of wine in their hands. They boasted that Hei Long was a fire that would gutter against stone. Pride echoed in their halls. But beneath the bravado, fear coiled.
Fire Arrives
Hei Long came at dusk. No army. No banners. Only his cloak trailing across the valley floor, the cord at his wrist swaying like the measure of doom. Behind him walked Qingxue, Yexin, and Yuran — not sparks, not rivals, but flames bound tighter than crowns of gold.
The fortress gates closed with a thunderous crack. Trumpets sounded. Arrows blackened the sky.
Hei Long did not raise a hand. He spoke only once:
"Stone is nothing. Stone burns."
The Sword Against Walls
Qingxue surged forward, her blade gleaming silver in the twilight. She cut through arrow volleys as if they were reeds, sparks spraying across the battlements. Each strike rang like thunder, steel screaming against stone until cracks spiderwebbed along the fortress gates.
"I am his edge!" she roared. "And no wall can stand before me!"
The nobles’ soldiers faltered, their chants breaking beneath the sound of her blade.
The Fox’s Storm
Yexin laughed, her fan snapping open. Illusions poured into the fortress, storming the towers. Dozens of Yexins danced across battlements, mocking voices echoing from every wall. Soldiers loosed arrows into smoke, blades into shadows, their formations crumbling under phantom assaults.
"Your walls mean nothing!" she shouted, her laughter cutting sharper than arrows. "You’re already burning, and you don’t even see it!"
The Healer’s Light
Yuran knelt at the valley floor, her hands glowing faintly. Spirit threads wrapped around the fortress foundations, pulling at the seals carved into stone. The relic wards sputtered, their glow fading under her trembling devotion.
"Even stone crumbles," she whispered, blood on her lips. "And I will hold fire steady until it does."
The gates groaned, ironwood cracking.
Hei Long’s Step
At last, Hei Long raised his hand.
The fortress shuddered. Towers bent. The ironwood gates split in two, falling like broken teeth. Shadows spilled through the cracks, swallowing torches, banners, and nobles’ pride alike.
Inside, lords dropped their cups, their wine spilling across polished floors. Their crowns of silk and gold turned to ash before the fire’s step.
"You call yourselves kings," Hei Long said, his voice calm, merciless. "But crowns built on stone burn fastest."
His cloak flared. The fortress of Helan collapsed, stone falling into dust, banners consumed by shadow.
Aftermath
When dawn broke, nothing remained but ash and ruin. The fortress was gone. The noble houses scattered, their crowns shattered, their heirs fleeing into the mountains.
Hei Long stood at the center of the ruin, his women at his side, fire bound brighter than armies.
"The west has fallen," he murmured. "The next crown will burn."
And the world trembled, for inevitability had devoured stone.
Whispers Across the Sea
The empire’s south was ash. Its west had crumbled. And with each crown burned, the world beyond its borders grew restless.
Foreign kings held midnight councils, their torches flickering as voices rose in fear."The empire has fallen!" some cried. "Now the fire will cross our borders."Others whispered greedily, "If inevitability consumes the east, we can strike its flanks. While the shadow burns, we carve what remains."
But one truth silenced them all: armies, relics, and legends had already fallen. What defense could foreign crowns offer when the throne itself lay in ruin?
The Watchtower Watches
Hei Long remained unmoved. He did not send envoys. He did not raise banners. He stood in the fractured tower, his cloak trailing, his women burning brighter in his shadow.
Qingxue polished her blade, pride colder than steel. "The kings will gather. Armies, alliances, crowns of desperation. Let them. I’ll cut their borders the way I cut their thrones."
Yexin lounged against a broken pillar, illusions flickering like foxfire. "Kings are easier than nobles. They’ll tear each other apart before we even step into their halls. And when they do, I’ll already be laughing from their thrones."
Yuran knelt between them, her trembling hands steady as she lit incense. "Even if they all rise at once... I will keep us whole." Her voice was soft, but her glow steadied the air itself.
Hei Long’s silence pressed down heavier than crowns. At last, he spoke:"They scramble like carrion over ash. Let them. Fire does not cross borders. Fire erases them."
The First Move
From the east came the first emissary — a foreign king’s rider, bearing silks and gold. He knelt before the watchtower’s broken gate, his voice shaking.
"My master offers alliance," he said. "Gold, soldiers, a crown shared. Only spare his kingdom when your fire spreads."
Qingxue’s blade gleamed. Yexin’s laughter hissed. Yuran’s glow brightened faintly.
Hei Long raised his hand. The silks turned to smoke. The gold to ash. The rider fled, his horse screaming into the night.
"Kings offer crowns," Hei Long murmured. "Crowns burn. And inevitability remains."
The Horizon
The empire was gone. The nobles scattered. Foreign kingdoms trembled.
Hei Long stood at the center of it all, his women bound tighter than armies, their jealousy and devotion fusing into flame.
"The world believes it watches me," he said, cloak rippling in the wind. "But inevitability watches the world. And soon... it will burn."
The horizon glowed faintly, as if the dawn itself had caught fire.