The Phoenix's Legacy
The jade pendant pulsed like a second heartbeat in my palm as the truth crashed over me in waves. The candlelight flickered violently, casting our shadows tall and twisted against the ancient bookshelves.
"My mother...the Xuanji Pavilion's last master?" My voice barely rose above a whisper.
Han Sheng's fingers brushed the cover of the Phoenix Cataclysm Scroll, its golden characters gleaming dully. "Not just the master—the architect. Every move you've made since entering the palace was foreseen by her."
A cold realization slithered down my spine. "Even my meeting with the Crown Prince?"
"Especially that." He flipped open the scroll, revealing my mother's precise handwriting beneath an intricate diagram of the palace. "She positioned you like the final piece in a weiqi match. The Prince, Xiao Jing, even the Emperor—they're all playing her game without knowing it."
The diagram shifted—names connected by blood-red lines forming a web of conspiracy. At its center, my name stared back at me in stark black ink.
"The 'Pear Blossom Nightmare' wasn't just a code phrase." Han Sheng produced a tiny silver key from his sleeve. "It's the trigger."
The key fit perfectly into a hidden compartment within the reunited jade pendant. With a soft click, it released a miniature scroll no larger than my thumbnail. Unfurled, it revealed four terrifying words:
"The Emperor is dying."
Han Sheng's voice turned grave. "Your mother discovered the poison in his tea years ago. Slow-acting, untraceable. Administered by none other than—"
"Xiao Jing." The pieces snapped together. "That's why she withdrew her troops. She knows the throne will soon be empty."
"And your dear Crown Prince?" Han Sheng's smile was razor-thin. "His birth records are falsified. He's not the Emperor's son at all."
The revelation hit like a physical blow. All this time, I'd been a pawn in my mother's posthumous scheme—one designed to topple dynasties.
"What do you want from me now?" I demanded.
Han Sheng knelt abruptly, pressing his forehead to the cold stone floor—the ultimate salute to a superior.
"To serve the true heir. The one your mother chose years ago." His eyes burned with terrifying conviction as they lifted to meet mine. "You."
Outside, the wind howled like a grieving spirit. Somewhere in the palace, a bell began to toll—the signal that the Emperor had taken ill.
The game was entering its final stages.
And I—
I was no longer the player.
I was the prize.
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