The cave was dim, the only light spilling in from cracks in the rocky ceiling above, casting faint, silvery patterns on the damp walls. The scent of earth and faint traces of blood lingered in the air as Chang Sheng Chen leaned heavily against the jagged stone. His breaths were shallow, each movement sending a sharp, searing pain through his battered body. The Empress’s forces had been relentless, and his narrow escape had drained the last reserves of his strength.

Drops of water echoed in the cavern, a quiet rhythm that should have been soothing but instead heightened the oppressive silence. Chang Sheng Chen clutched his side, his fingers slick with his own blood, as he tried to steady himself. His vision blurred, the edges of the cave seeming to shift and sway like a dream. He couldn’t collapse here—there was still too much left undone. Too many lives relied on him.

As he braced himself against the wall, a shadow shifted near the entrance. His heart skipped, a fleeting moment of panic tightening his chest. He forced his head to turn, his fingers instinctively curling around the hilt of his sword, though he barely had the strength to wield it.

Through the mist of his pain and exhaustion, he saw him—a figure emerging from the darkness. The man’s features came into focus with every hesitant step he took, the faint light illuminating a face that seemed almost otherworldly. His expression was unreadable, his beauty sharp and haunting, like a phantom drifting through the night.

Chang Sheng Chen’s grip on his sword faltered as his exhaustion overcame him, yet his eyes remained fixed on the stranger. A faint whisper escaped his lips, hoarse and broken.

“Who… are you?"