Mount Cangshan had been the site of the Blue Wind Empire's founding ceremony five hundred years ago, and now it was the site of the empire's funeral. Yun Che stood on the ancient stone dais where his ancestors had sworn their oaths of fealty, and looked out over the valley below.

Tents. Thousands of them. The rebel army of Feng Zhan, the general who had once been his father's most trusted commander, had camped at the base of Mount Cangshan while they waited for imperial reinforcements that would never come. The empire was already dead. They just hadn't buried it yet.

And in the center of the rebel camp, flying above the largest tent, was the banner of the Profound Handle's Xiao clan.

Yun Che felt something cold settle in his chest. It wasn't surprise. He had known the Profound Handle was backing the rebellion. It was anger — a clean, focused anger that burned away the last traces of the desperate, hopeless prisoner he'd been for three years.

The empire was his birthright. The betrayal was personal. And for the first time since his fall, he let himself think about the future.

Not revenge. Not justice. Not even restoration.

He thought about what kind of world he wanted to build when this was over.

It was a strange thought to have while standing on a mountain overlooking the instruments of his family's destruction. But somehow, the thought steadied him more than any cultivation breakthrough ever could.

He descended the mountain alone, walking through the trees as the sun set behind him, and he began to plan.