The warehouse was little more than a skeleton of wood and dust, but it offered warmth and quiet—luxuries rare for fugitives. Rain dripped steadily outside, tapping against the broken shutters like an impatient visitor.
Sitori Feiyue sat cross-legged near a dim lantern, unrolling a tattered map over a crate. Her fingers traced faded ink with the precision of a scholar, the eyes of a warrior.
Chu Yunzheng munched on a half-burned bun he'd "liberated" from a sleeping vendor. He watched her with idle curiosity.
"Don't suppose that map says where to find treasure and answers, does it?"
Feiyue didn't glance up. "It might."
He leaned closer. "You ever relax?"
"No."
"Huh." He took another bite. "Kinda hot."
Before she could respond with a scathing remark, a soft knock echoed from the back door—three taps, pause, two.
Feiyue was up in an instant, blade drawn.
Chu put down his bun and moved to the side, hand near the hidden darts in his sleeve.
The door creaked open.
A tall figure stepped inside, his face partially covered by a soot-streaked cloth. In his hand was a blacksmith's hammer. But his eyes—soft, weary, intelligent—spoke of more than forgework.
"Qingya," Feiyue greeted. "You came."
He nodded once. "You said the Crescent Flame resurfaced. That means time is shorter than I thought."
Chu blinked. "Wait. The same Qingya who forged weapons for the border rebels? The one with a price on his head?"
Qingya's eyes twitched with amusement. "That was a younger, angrier version of me. Now I just fix plows and pretend I don't miss the fire."
Feiyue gestured to the map. "What do you know about this?"
Qingya stepped forward, kneeling beside her. "The Ember Vault. Thought it was a myth until a week ago. Someone paid handsomely for blueprints of the old capital—specifically the underground tunnels beneath the southern ruins."
Feiyue's gaze sharpened. "And?"
"I followed the money," Qingya said simply. "It led me to a symbol carved into the foundation stone of a collapsed watchtower—half a crescent, flame beneath. Crescent Flame."
Feiyue's heartbeat quickened.
"What's inside the Vault?"
"No one knows for sure. But rumor says the last Grand Astrologer of the previous dynasty hid a part of the 'Tianji Scroll' there. Along with… other things."
Chu straightened. "Other things?"
"Secrets. Names. Records of those who betrayed the Nine Tribes during the Purge."
Feiyue sat back. Her mother's words echoed in her mind.
"If truth cannot protect you, let it burn those who pretend to own it."
She looked at Qingya. "Where's the Vault entrance?"
Qingya hesitated. "That's the problem. The symbol I found—someone else had already been there. Recently. They'd carved over it, left only ash and blood."
Chu tilted his head. "So, someone's ahead of us."
Feiyue frowned. "Or watching from the shadows."
Qingya pulled something from his sleeve: a sliver of stone etched with strange glyphs. "This was left behind. I don't recognize the language, but it's old. Pre-dynasty old."
Feiyue reached for it, and the moment her fingers brushed the glyph, the lantern's flame flickered violently.
Qingya jumped back.
Chu stared. "What was that?"
Feiyue's eyes had gone distant—like something ancient had just looked through her. She let go.
"I've seen these glyphs before," she said softly. "In the forbidden chamber beneath the Fox Court."
"Then it's tied to your people," Qingya murmured.
Before anyone could speak further, the window exploded inward.
A dagger whirled through the air—Feiyue caught it in one smooth motion.
Chu was already on his feet. "We're getting real popular."
A shadow dropped from the rafters, followed by three more.
Masked, silent, dressed in raven-black leather—Crescent Flame assassins.
Feiyue moved like wind.
The first attacker lunged—she parried, countered, and used his momentum to send him crashing through a stack of crates. Chu ducked under another's blade, kicking up dust to blind him, then delivered a spinning backfist to the jaw.
Qingya grabbed his hammer. "I really didn't want to use this again."
He smashed the third attacker into the wall with a grunt.
The fourth—a female assassin—moved with supernatural speed, drawing two curved blades. Feiyue barely blocked the flurry, matching each strike with calculated precision.
Then Chu did something ridiculous.
He tossed a pouch of fireworks—yes, actual fireworks—into the middle of the room.
They exploded with a scream and a burst of colors.
Blinded, the assassins staggered.
Feiyue struck fast. One to the throat. Another to the ribs. Then silence.
Breathing hard, she looked at Chu.
"Fireworks?" she asked.
He grinned. "I don't do boring."
Qingya wiped his hammer on a cloth. "We need to move. Now. They'll return with more."
Feiyue nodded. "To the ruins?"
"No," Qingya said. "Too obvious."
He pulled a second map from his coat.
"We go to the Forgotten Mine first. That's where the clues lead next."
Chu stretched. "Sounds like a terrible place."
Feiyue smirked. "Perfect."