The Throne of Ashes

The Imperial Palace was silent, save for the distant crackle of torches and the faint rustling of silk as Ling Xuefeng moved through the darkened corridors. The air was thick with the scent of incense, but beneath it, there was something sweeter—fear. The kind that seeped into the walls, into the bones of those who remained. The kind that clung to the last, broken remnants of her enemies.

It was time.

She would give them their final audience.

Not as equals, not as adversaries.

But as ghosts of what they once were.

The Emperor – The Hollow Throne

She found him in his private chambers, slumped upon his gilded throne like a marionette with severed strings. The once-mighty ruler of the empire, reduced to a trembling, whispering specter of himself. His robes hung loosely over his frail frame, his skin waxen, his eyes darting at every shadow as though they whispered the secrets of his undoing.

Xuefeng stepped forward, slow, deliberate. Her silk robes trailed like liquid darkness, her smirk as sharp as the dagger hidden within her sleeve.

"Your Majesty," she purred, savoring the way he flinched at the title. "Do you recognize me?"

His lips trembled. "You… you…"

She laughed softly. "You never saw it coming, did you?"

She circled him like a predator savoring its prey. "You thought you were untouchable, that your power would last forever. But you failed to see the cracks forming beneath your feet. And I? I widened those cracks until your empire, your control, crumbled beneath you."

She leaned in, whispering, "I orchestrated every whisper of doubt, every seed of fear planted among your court. I made them question you, doubt your sanity, until even your most loyal advisors abandoned you. And the best part? You did all the work for me."

His fingers clenched the armrests of his throne as if they might save him. But there was no salvation here.

She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "You should. Because I am the last thing you will remember before your mind shatters completely."

She turned, letting him drown in his own madness.

Bai Shenzhi – The Walking Corpse

The scent of decay clung to him like a funeral shroud. Bai Shenzhi, once a man of alchemical brilliance, now sat curled in the corner of his chamber, his skin pallid, his hands trembling as he clutched his tea cup—untouched, untrusted.

Xuefeng approached, her footsteps soft against the polished floor. She did not speak at first. She simply watched.

Waited.

And then—

He looked up, his hollowed eyes wide with terror. "You poisoned me."

She smiled, slow and sweet. "Did I?"

His breath hitched. "I—I tested everything. I—I made sure—"

"Oh, Bai Shenzhi," she cooed, crouching beside him, her fingers grazing the cup he held with such desperation. "That was the beauty of it. There was never any poison."

A strangled gasp left his lips. His fingers spasmed, the cup slipping from his grip and shattering against the floor.

"You did this to yourself," she continued, savoring his horror. "I made you believe that death was creeping through your veins. Every sip of tea, every morsel of food—I let you think it was your last. And your brilliant mind, the same mind that once unraveled the mysteries of alchemy, unraveled itself instead."

She leaned closer, her voice honeyed venom. "I won without lifting a single finger."

His body shook violently, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

She straightened, watching him with the detached amusement of an artist admiring her masterpiece. "Die slowly," she whispered, turning away. "It's the only thing you have left."

Yuwen Zhi – The Fallen Rival

She found him standing on the palace steps, his clothes tattered, his once-sharp eyes dulled with exhaustion. Unlike the others, he had not been locked away. He had been released—forced to walk through the halls of his own disgrace, to feel the stares of those who once feared him turn to pity and contempt.

And now, she would grant him the final gift of understanding.

He turned as she approached, his jaw tightening, his fingers twitching at his side. "Why?"

She stopped a breath away from him, tilting her head. "Because you tried to be me."

His breath caught.

"You thought you understood power, Yuwen Zhi," she continued, her voice a dark lullaby. "You watched me. Studied me. Moved your pieces, thinking you could predict my every step. But you forgot one thing."

She smiled, and it was a thing of cruel beauty. "You are not me."

She gestured to the palace behind him. "I could have killed you, but where would the fun be in that? No, I wanted you to live. To walk these streets as a man who once stood at the peak, only to fall farther than anyone ever thought possible."

She took a step closer, whispering, "I want you to feel this humiliation. To wake up every day knowing that I won. That I am above you. And that you will never, ever touch power again."

His hands clenched into fists, his breath ragged. "You… you're a monster."

Xuefeng laughed. "Perhaps. But I am the monster who won."

She turned, her voice drifting back like a final curse. "Enjoy your new life, Yuwen Zhi. It's all you have left."

The Final Throne

As dawn painted the sky in hues of blood and gold, Ling Xuefeng stood atop the palace balcony, the empire sprawled beneath her like a conquered lover.

She had won.

Her enemies lay in ruins, their minds broken, their fates sealed. And she—

She was untouchable.

With a slow, satisfied smile, she raised her cup of wine to the rising sun.

"To the fallen," she murmured, taking a sip, savoring the taste.

It was exquisite, but it was far from over.

Not all her enemies were beneath her yet.