Jiyun

The temple bells had not yet stopped trembling from the evening wind when Prince Jiyun knelt before the altar. Smoke from sandalwood incense curled toward the painted ceiling, where the Dragon of the South Isle stretched across beams of ancient cedar. His armor lay beside him, polished but still bearing the faint stains of the afternoon’s battle. Victory had come swiftly—his strategies precise, his soldiers loyal, the enemy crushed before sunset. Yet triumph did not quiet his heart. As the fourth prince of the Shin Empire and Supreme Commander of the Southern Isle Army, Jiyun had long ago learned that victory invited envy faster than defeat invited pity. He pressed his forehead to the cold temple stone. “Let this victory serve the Empire,” he whispered. “Let my blade remain righteous.” The answer came not as blessing—but as fire. A sharp whistle sliced through the air. Then another. And another. Arrows shattered the temple windows in a rain of sparks. Oil-soaked tips struck the silk banners and prayer mats. Flame roared to life with terrifying hunger. Jiyun sprang to his feet, instincts sharper than prayer. He reached for his sword—but a beam collapsed between him and the entrance, trapping him in a prison of blazing wood. The heat closed around him. This was no foreign enemy. No outsider would dare strike a temple within imperial lands. Betrayal. The word burned hotter than the flames.