The morning mist covered the slopes of Mount Huashan. In the midst of the silent fog, in front of a simple wooden hut, Yun Xia sat motionless. His gaze was empty, staring straight into the valley, as if he no longer cared about the passage of time. His body was still, but his soul was in turmoil. The sounds of war, the screams, and the clash of swords still echoed in his memory.
Behind the door of the hut, Cia Sun observed the boy with contemplative eyes. The Golden Lion, the legendary warrior who once shook the martial world, knew well that physical wounds healed faster than wounds of the soul. He did not rush to train Yun Xia, because he knew that the boy did not need strength right now—he needed hope.
It had been seven days since Bao An entrusted Yun Xia to Cia Sun, then descended the mountain to disappear. Since then, Cia Sun had quietly watched over Yun Xia. Every day, he prepared meals, invited him to talk, even told him stories from his past. But Yun Xia remained silent.
Until the eighth morning, something changed.
"You know, Yun Xia," Cia Sun said as he sat beside him, bringing two cups of warm tea. "You may not be able to trust anyone right now, and that's understandable. But every wound, no matter how small, takes time to heal. You are not alone."
Yun Xia slowly turned his head—the first time since he arrived at the hut. His gaze was still hollow, but there was a faint glimmer, a sign that his soul had begun to hear the world again.
Cia Sun continued, "Your father, Emperor Yun Hao, once told me that you are the last light of the Han Dynasty. But being the light doesn't mean you have to shine right now. You only need to keep that flame alive."
Yun Xia gripped the teacup in his hands. Its warmth spread through his body, slowly melting the cold that had long frozen his heart. He didn't reply, but he no longer turned his face away.
In the days that followed, Yun Xia slowly began to open himself. He started answering simple questions. Then he listened more attentively when Cia Sun told his stories. Until, on the fourteenth day, for the first time, Yun Xia asked, "Master Cia Sun, is it true… that my father has fallen?"
Cia Sun looked deeply at him, then slowly nodded. "He chose to die as an Emperor, not as a captive. But he left his message and his hope through you."
Yun Xia lowered his head. Silent tears fell. Cia Sun said nothing. He simply placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. And at that moment, the heavy stone that had crushed Yun Xia's chest began to crack.
Meanwhile, far from Mount Huashan, the once grand and blood-soaked palace of the Han Dynasty was now fully occupied by the forces of the Ming Dynasty. The banners of the Han had been lowered, replaced by the dragon-crowned insignias—the symbol of Ming's dominion.
In the grand, now-ruined main hall, Zhong Yi stood tall. He gazed at the shattered throne of the Han Dynasty without emotion. Victory had been achieved, but for him, this was merely one step in Emperor Yong Li's grand plan.
Before him, a soldier in war attire knelt. "Commander, all areas within the royal city have been secured. There is no further resistance."
Zhong Yi nodded. "Good. Jian Ma, starting today you will govern this region as the provisional governor of the Ming Dynasty. Ensure the troops maintain order. The people must not rebel, but they must not be oppressed either."
Jian Ma, the young and ambitious traitor, eagerly accepted the order. "I will carry out your command to the best of my ability, Commander."
Zhong Yi then looked up at the darkening sky outside the palace. "I will return to the capital. His Majesty must hear of this victory directly."
The journey back to the Ming Dynasty's royal palace was swift. Special escorts, elite troops, and heralds traveled ahead of Zhong Yi to ensure the victory celebration could be prepared promptly.
Sure enough, when Zhong Yi arrived at the main courtyard of the Ming Dynasty palace, thousands of soldiers were already lined up. The drums of victory thundered, and palace maids scattered flower petals from both sides of the palace road.
On the main stairs stood a figure whose power was undeniable: Emperor Yong Li. Though still relatively young, his ambition burned far greater than his predecessors. He wore a golden robe embroidered with a black dragon, the symbol of power and invincibility.
Zhong Yi knelt before the Emperor. "Your Majesty, the Han Dynasty has fallen. We have taken control of their capital."
Emperor Yong Li laughed heartily. "Excellent! Outstanding!"
He descended the stairs and approached Zhong Yi. "You have carved history, Zhong Yi. With the fall of the Han Dynasty, our path to complete domination over the entire continent is now wide open."
"I have merely carried out Your Majesty's command."
"Not just following orders," the Emperor replied with a satisfied smile. "You have fulfilled the dream of our forefathers. Now, only the Yuan Dynasty and the Tang Dynasty remain as potential threats. Both must fall within the next five years at most."
Emperor Yong Li returned to his throne. He sat and raised his cup of victory wine.
"Let us celebrate, but remember: true victory is achieved when no enemies remain. And remember, within the shadows of the Han Dynasty's ruins, there may still be remnants of resistance."
Zhong Yi nodded. In his heart, he understood the Emperor's meaning. There would always be those who sought to reignite the small flame from the ashes of the fallen dynasty. And if they were not extinguished early, that small flame could become a raging blaze.
But Zhong Yi did not yet know that the flame was now being carefully guarded atop Mount Huashan, by a boy named Yun Xia and an old warrior named Cia Sun.
On those same mountain slopes, Yun Xia was beginning to adapt to his new life. He helped prepare meals, chop wood, and even began participating in morning meditation with Cia Sun. In his heart, revenge slowly transformed into determination.
And one night, when the stars shone their brightest, Cia Sun called Yun Xia to the front yard.
"Yun Xia, today I no longer see you as a weak child. You are starting to rise. And now it is time for you to decide—will you embrace your destiny as the last heir, or will you let history bury your family's name?"
Yun Xia stood tall. "I will train, Master. I want to honor my father's name and all those who have fallen. But… not for revenge. I want to stop the cruelty, like that brought by the Ming Dynasty."
Cia Sun smiled. "That is the answer I've been waiting for. Starting tomorrow, your training begins. But remember, a sword is not everything. A clear heart is the greatest strength of a warrior."
And that night, under the starlight and the whispers of the mountain wind, a small flame called hope began to burn once more.
Meanwhile, in the former Han Dynasty palace, now part of the Ming Dynasty's territory, tensions were quietly building. Jian Ma, one of Zhong Yi's trusted commanders, had been assigned as the temporary ruler of the former Han palace until Emperor Yong Li appointed a new official.
However, the uneasy calm was suddenly disturbed when a spy, assigned to comb through the kingdom's documents and archives, came bearing shocking news.
"My Lord, we have found a major gap in the execution records of Emperor Yun Hao's descendants. There is one name missing and unaccounted for."
Jian Ma, who was sitting on the throne, immediately stood. His sharp gaze tightened, and his jaw clenched.
"Who?"
"The youngest son, My Lord. His name is Yun Xia."
The room fell silent for a moment. Jian Ma clenched his fist, his expression tensing.
"He must not be allowed to live! Find him and eliminate him!" he roared, his voice shaking the room, causing his guards to tremble.