C1 Chapter 1

Under a sky smothered in storm clouds and whipped by violent wind, dust and sand swirled through the air, stinging the eyes of the packed crowd. The prison wagon rumbled in, and people surged aside, snatching up whatever they had—vegetables, fruit, even rocks—and hurling them without hesitation at the disheveled man inside.

It was late fall. Low, heavy clouds blanketed the horizon, and a dead, sour mood drifted over the streets and the square. At noon, the moment arrived.

Just as the blade was about to drop, a flash of white plunged from above, straight for the prisoner on the platform. The newcomer was a slender woman, her face veiled in white gauze, her long hair falling to her ankles. A flexible sword gleamed in her hand. Her eyes were steady as she stepped in and snapped her wrist—at once, the burly executioner crumpled.

“I’m sorry... I’m here to save you. Don’t be afraid...” She didn’t stop to think. She hooked an arm around the man’s neck and leaned in, whispering at his ear like a lover, but...

A sharp whistle cut the air.

Thud!

Whoosh—thud!

Two impacts sank into flesh and bone at the same time—one from below the ribs, one from behind. She lowered her gaze to the familiar arrowhead jutting through her chest, then looked up at the man in front of her as he lifted his head and brushed windblown hair from his forehead.

It was a face she knew—just not the one she’d come to save. This was her enemy, the cruelest man alive. She’d fallen into his hands more times than she could count, and just as many times she’d clawed her way back from the edge of death. She never imagined that this time, she’d collapse at his feet again...

Pressing a hand to her chest, she turned. Just as she expected, the handsome man in flowing white stood atop the wall. In his hands was a crossbow—one she had given him. And in his arm was the little sister she’d found by the roadside and raised herself, the one she’d loved most of all...

Her veil slipped to the ground. A bleak smile touched her beautiful face, and when she spoke, blood stained her lips red.

Pfft!

Before she could finish speaking, a razor-sharp dagger slid across her graceful neck. She never got her answer—her body tipped backward and hit the ground.

Rain began to fall from the sky, mixing with her tears as her blood soaked into the earth...

Why? Heh... maybe she knew now. Because she was the last remnant of a fallen dynasty, the phantom thief the authorities could never catch... They say the hardest thing to get past is the heart. And she lost because of... this...

But she couldn’t accept it...

...

“You monsters—let go of Dean Mother! Let her go!”

In a courtyard bursting with cherry blossoms, under bright, beautiful sunshine, it should’ve been a perfect day. But the moment the men in black stormed in, it turned into hell.

“Dean Mother, I’m scared! Waaah... it’s so scary... Dean Mother... Dean Mother...”

This was Yinghai Orphanage, a place that took in children who’d been abandoned. This was their home, and Dean Mother was their mom.

All the little kids huddled in panic against the wall. A few who rushed forward were kicked hard into the corner—one after another, a neck snapped at an awful angle, and a small life was gone... When Dean Mother saw it, she charged in, furious. Several men grabbed her arms and legs, and right there, in front of everyone, they tore open her clothes and shoved her to the ground.

Zimu clutched the Flameheart at her throat, trembling as she burned every moment into her memory. Then, without warning, someone yanked her up by the collar, and a large hand ripped the Flameheart necklace from her neck.

“No! Please, sir—don’t take it! It’s mine!” Zimu grabbed that hand with everything she had, begging. Don’t take the keepsake her parents left her. Don’t!