Night fell silently.
The City of White Clouds—its gates tightly shut.
Patrolling orcs yawned,
their iron boots striking the stone road in a loose, sluggish rhythm.
Torches crackled in the night wind,
light and shadow swaying.
Everything looked—
peaceful.
normal.
Precisely because of that,
it felt all the more dangerous.
No horns.
No alarms.
Within the shadows of the city walls,
ten figures peeled away from the darkness—
as if the night itself had come loose.
The first guard sensed something was wrong,
but before he could turn—
his throat was already slit.
No scream.
Only the faint sound of air being cut apart.
His body slowly collapsed.
The torch slipped from his fingers,
rolling a few times across the ground.
The flame flickered once—
and went out.
Inside the city lord's residence, the feast continued.
Wine swayed.
Laughter intertwined.
The crisp clink of cups echoed sharply through the night.
Then—
the door was pushed open.
No shouting.
No struggle.
Only a moment of stunned silence—
and fear, spreading like ink.
At the deepest point of the night—
One.
Another.
And another.
Heads were neatly hung upon the city gates.
Their expressions frozen at the final moment before death—
shock.
confusion.
disbelief.
Before dawn, a patrolling orc looked up.
A roar finally tore through the night sky.
But by then—
it was already too late.
Outside the city, atop a high slope.
The pre-dawn wind howled.
Hong Chen stood upon the hill,
a head hanging in his hand.
Blue flames burned quietly at his fingertips—
no explosion,
no frenzy—
only a calm, consuming burn.
He did not turn back.
His gaze passed through the darkness,
toward the distant Holy City.
His voice was so low
it was nearly carried away by the wind.
"Qin Feng…"
A brief pause.
"Back then… it was this head—"
"that gave the order for the ambush."
As the words fell—
the blue flames tightened.
Fire devoured the head.
Bone shattered.
Ash scattered into the wind.
The night closed in once more—
as if nothing had ever happened.
Only the City of White Clouds—
before dawn—
had completely died.
The Holy City, atop its high walls.
A guard suddenly stopped.
On the distant horizon—
a red glow that should not exist
was slowly rising before dawn.
Not campfires.
Not signal smoke.
But—
an entire city, burning.
"That's… the direction of the City of White Clouds!"
The bells suddenly rang out.
—Dong!
—Dong!
—Dong!
Heavy and urgent,
echoing layer upon layer across the Holy City.
Inside the palace.
Kai was the first to be alerted.
Hong Lei arrived almost at the same time.
Farr, cloaked hastily, wore a grave expression.
The three ascended the walls.
The distant firelight—
was like a wide-open eye,
staring at them from within the darkness.
Kai's throat tightened.
His voice was hoarse:
"It's him… attacking a city again."
Hong Lei did not respond immediately.
His fist slowly clenched.
Farr spoke softly:
"If not him… who else could it be?"
A brief silence.
The night wind poured into the tower.
The candle flames flickered violently.
At last, Hong Lei spoke.
His tone carried a fatigue that bordered on resignation:
"Maybe…"
"the Holy City… should finally do something."
Kai took a deep breath,
as if grasping onto a long-held obsession.
"When my father was alive,
he always wanted to reclaim the City of White Clouds."
"Perhaps—"
Before he could finish—
Farr suddenly turned.
For the first time, his tone was sharp and decisive:
"Yes."
Kai froze.
Hong Lei also looked up.
Farr met their eyes.
"Not a direct confrontation."
"Not chasing Hong Chen."
He spoke slowly:
"But to take advantage of his departure—"
"and enter the city."
The words fell lightly—
yet struck like a heavy hammer within the tower.
Hong Lei's breath hitched.
"You mean… retake the City of White Clouds?"
Farr nodded.
"That city is already dead."
"All that remains… is an empty shell."
He looked toward the distant flames.
"But if we do nothing—"
"the next fire to rise…"
"may be the Holy City."
Kai remained silent for a long time.
Finally—
he looked firmly toward the City of White Clouds.
"Pass the order."
His voice no longer trembled.
"Prepare the army."
The bells of the Holy City
still echoed through the breaking dawn.
And in the distance—
Hong Chen had already left.
But the choice—
he had placed it
firmly in their hands.
夜,悄然落下.
白云城,城门紧闭.
巡逻的兽人打着哈欠,铁靴踏在石道上,节奏松散而迟缓.
火把在夜风中噼啪作响,光影摇晃.
一切看起来——
和平.
正常.
正因为如此,
才显得格外危险.
没有号角.
没有警报.
城墙的阴影之中,
十道身影自黑暗里分离,
仿佛夜色本身剥落下来.
第一名守卫刚察觉到异样,尚未来得及回头——
喉咙已被割开.
没有惨叫.
只有空气被切开的细微声响.
他的身体缓缓倒下.
火把从指间滑落,在地上滚了几圈.
火焰轻轻一晃,
随即熄灭.
城主府内,宴席仍在继续.
酒液摇晃.
笑声交错.
杯盏相击的清脆声,在夜里显得格外刺耳.
下一瞬——
门被推开.
没有怒吼.
没有挣扎.
只有一瞬的错愕,
以及恐惧,如墨般迅速蔓延.
当夜色最深之时——
一颗.
又一颗.
再一颗.
头颅被整齐地挂上城门.
它们的表情,凝固在死亡前最后一刻——
惊愕.
困惑.
不解.
破晓前,巡城的兽人抬头.
咆哮声,终于撕裂夜空.
但那时——
已经太迟了.
——
城外高坡.
破晓前的夜风猎猎.
红辰站在山坡上,
手中提着一颗头颅.
蓝色的火焰在他指尖静静燃烧,
没有爆裂,
没有狂暴,
只是冷静地吞噬.
他没有回头.
目光越过黑暗,望向遥远的圣城.
声音低得,几乎被风吹散.
"琴风..."
短暂的停顿.
"当年,就是这颗头——"
"下令埋伏的."
话音落下.
蓝炎骤然收紧.
火焰吞没头颅.
骨骼碎裂.
灰烬随风散去.
夜色重新合拢.
仿佛什么都没有发生.
只有白云城,
在破晓之前,
彻底死去.
——
圣城,高墙之上.
城卫兵忽然停下脚步.
远方天际,
一道不该出现的红光,
在破晓前缓缓升起.
不是营火.
不是烽烟.
而是——
整座城,在燃烧.
"那是...白云城的方向!"
钟声骤然响起.
——当!
——当!
——当!
厚重而急促,
在圣城上空层层回荡.
王宫内.
凯最先被惊动.
洪雷几乎同时赶到.
法尔披着外袍,神色凝重.
三人登上城墙.
远处的火光,
像一只张开的眼睛,
正从黑暗中注视着他们.
凯的喉咙发紧.
声音低哑:
"是他...又攻城了."
洪雷没有立刻回应.
他的拳头,缓缓收紧.
法尔轻声道:
"不是'他',还能是谁."
短暂的沉默.
夜风灌入城楼,
烛火剧烈晃动.
洪雷终于开口,
语气里带着一种近乎认命的疲惫:
"也许..."
"圣城,也该做点什么了."
凯深吸一口气,
像是抓住了一段旧日的执念.
"父王在世时,
一直想收复白云城."
"也许——"
话音未落.
法尔忽然转身.
语气第一次如此果断而锋利:
"对!"
凯一愣.
洪雷也抬起头.
法尔直视他们.
"不是正面迎击."
"不是追击红辰."
他缓缓说道:
"而是趁他离开后——"
"入城."
这一句话,
落得很轻.
却像一枚重锤,
砸在城楼之中.
洪雷呼吸一滞.
"你是说...夺回白云城?"
法尔点头.
"那座城,已经死了."
"现在,只剩空壳."
他望向远方的火光.
"但如果我们什么都不做——"
"下一次燃起的,
就可能是圣城."
凯沉默良久.
终于——
他坚定地望向白云城的方向.
"传令."
声音不再颤抖.
"准备军队."
圣城的钟声,
仍在破晓中回荡.
而远方,
红辰早已离开.
却把选择——
亲手留给了他们.