Chapter 14: The Devil’s Reckoning

 The deeper the love, the deadlier the war.

The Ash Crown's fortress was carved into the cliffs of Macao — a labyrinth of tunnels, black-market vaults, and whispered executions.

Zhou arrived at the gates alone.

No guards stopped him.

They had orders.

Let the devil in.

Inside, AiLi hung from iron shackles in a room that smelled of rust and blood. Her wrists were raw. Her lips cracked. Yet her spirit had not bent.

Lin Qian entered with slow steps, a blade glinting at her hip.

"You know what the difference is between you and me?" she asked, pouring tea for herself.

AiLi glared. "I don't torture family?"

Lin Qian sipped. "Family is a myth. Blood is just a weapon we haven't learned how to use properly."

She stood in front of AiLi, holding a piece of paper.

A death order.

"For Zhou," Lin said. "Signed by the last of the Deng loyalists. One word from me, and it's executed."

"Then why not kill him?" AiLi asked.

Lin's voice was soft.

"Because I want him to beg first."

Zhou walked the dark halls like a king returning to hell.

No mask. No armor.

Only fury.

A man stepped forward — armed, broad-shouldered.

Zhou didn't hesitate.

One strike.

Throat crushed.

Two more approached.

Zhou moved like smoke and steel — efficient, brutal, silent.

He left a trail behind him.

Not of footsteps.

Of warnings.

AiLi heard the gunfire echo first.

Then the screams.

Then the door exploded open — and Zhou stood there, soaked in ash, face cut, eyes gleaming like hellfire.

She smiled.

"Late."

He smirked. "Fashionably."

He broke the chains with one kick.

She collapsed into his arms.

"I told you not to come," she whispered.

"I lied," he whispered back.

But Lin Qian was waiting.

Sword in hand. Dressed in ceremonial white. Hair braided like a war priestess.

"You kill my men. Burn my house. And steal my sister?" she hissed.

Zhou stepped forward. "You stole her first."

She lunged.

He met her halfway.

Steel clashed.

She moved with deadly precision, trained in ten schools of death.

But Zhou had rage.

And something deeper:

AiLi's scream.

When Lin slashed toward her, Zhou blocked — but took the cut across his chest.

Blood sprayed the floor.

"You're weak," Lin Qian growled. "Love made you weak."

Zhou grinned, eyes red.

"No. It made me dangerous."

He disarmed her in a blink — blade at her throat.

But AiLi stepped between them.

"Don't," she said, placing a hand on his arm.

"She's still my sister."

Zhou's voice was hoarse. "She would've killed you."

"She didn't."

A pause.

Then AiLi turned to Lin.

"You want a crown? Fine. Take mine. Take the legacy. But leave us."

Lin trembled. "You'd walk away?"

AiLi nodded. "Not because I'm afraid. Because I'm done letting their war decide who we are."

Silence.

Then Lin dropped the sword.

And walked away.

No blood.

Just ash.

Back at the penthouse, Zhou's wound was stitched by trembling hands — AiLi's hands.

"You're an idiot," she muttered, wiping blood from his brow.

"You love this idiot."

She didn't deny it.

Instead, she laid her forehead against his.

"We almost died today."

He smiled.

"We didn't."

She whispered, "But what now?"

And Zhou said:

"Now we stop surviving. And start living."