The war was over. But peace had never come easily.
Sheng Long stood tall in the heart of the imperial court—no longer in armor, but cloaked in the full authority of the people's trust. His dragon pendant glinted at his chest, reflecting the judgmental glow of the high ceiling's golden chandeliers.
The traitors knelt before him, bound and silent, but their eyes still flickered with dangerous ambition. Among them were nobles, high-ranking military officers, and a few royal advisors… including a distant cousin of the Empress herself.
An Li had not been among them. Her fate, Sheng Long had decided, would be handled separately.
"This court convenes to decide the fate of those who conspired against the Empire and allied with the Zerg," Sheng Long said, voice steady and unwavering.
Around him, murmurs stirred in the balconies above—survivors, citizens, journalists, and remnants of the royal family now stripped of power. No emperor sat on the throne behind him. That seat remained empty. A statement.
"You were willing to let our people burn. To betray your blood and banner for power," Sheng Long continued. "The people will see justice."
He wasn't interested in vengeance. He wanted healing. But he would not let what happened be buried under politics.
Some would face exile. Others imprisonment. A few, likely execution.
And then came the real question—the Empire's future.
"Effective immediately," he declared, "the authority of the old royal family is suspended. A provisional council will be formed, representing both the frontier and core planets. The people will have a voice in their future."
It wasn't democracy. Not yet. But it was a beginning.
---
**Later That Night – Training Grounds**
The moonlight spilled over the silent sparring yard, broken only by laughter and the echo of clashing practice blades.
Yan Shuo leaned on his spear, sweating, grinning. "You're not half bad, Lu Jian."
Lu Jian grinned, hair tousled, a smear of dirt across his cheek. "You say that after I beat you in three straight rounds?"
"You're fast. I'm just… distracted," Yan Shuo muttered, pretending to adjust his gloves.
"By what?" Lu Jian asked, his voice casual—too casual.
There was a pause.
"…You," Yan Shuo said simply, meeting his eyes.
Lu Jian blinked. And then his ears turned pink.
"Next round?" he asked, voice cracking slightly.
Yan Shuo chuckled. "Yeah. But if I win this time, you owe me dinner."
"And if I win?"
"I'll still buy you dinner."
Lu Jian rolled his eyes, but his smile was softer than before.
Some things, like love, didn't need declarations or fanfare. They started with small moments—shared laughter, trust forged in training yards, and the promise of something more after the chaos.