Prologue: Let Us Raise Our Glasses to the Gentle Breeze!-Above the Galaxy(Willow Whisper)

Imperial Square. The wind howled with bitter cold, and the atmosphere was grim and forbidding.

The Phoenix Empire’s legendary God of War, Supreme Commander Tang Li, had rebelled. Today, he and his family, along with his loyal followers, were to face execution.

For years, Tang Li had held high office, renowned for leading his troops from the front and for his illustrious military achievements. He inspired unwavering loyalty in many. After deliberation by the Empire’s Military Council, it was decreed that he and his family would be put to death by the most ancient of punishments: fire. The execution would be broadcast live to the entire nation, both military and civilian, as a warning to all.

It was said that this manner of death was morbidly spectacular. The condemned would writhe in agony within their cages, unable to escape those unbreakable prisons, until finally, before the eyes of the masses, they would be reduced to cinders, their ashes scattered to the wind.

The enormous square was packed so tightly that not a drop of water could trickle through the crowd. Faces were tense, and all eyes strained toward the temporary platform erected at the center.

Upon the platform, piles of dry wood were stacked high, and atop them stood a row of cages forged from the Empire’s latest breakthrough in technology: Chromium-Gold alloy. These metal cages could not be split by blades or melted by fire; even the newest model laser weapons would take a very long time to cut through.

Tang Li’s cage stood at the very center, towering and prominent—its strength many times that of the others.

Within his cage, Tang Li’s limbs were bound fast by chains of the same unyielding metal, leaving only his head free to move. There were no cries, no pleas for mercy; he understood such things were now meaningless.

He gazed with deep, wordless affection at his wife, who clutched in her arms their newborn child, not yet three days old.

Yes, not even the infant would be spared.

If the roots are not destroyed, the grass will grow again with the spring wind.

“I’m sorry.”

Tang Li’s throat had long since been poisoned hoarse; he could make no sound. But his wife, Chen Yan, could read the words from his lips.

Chen Yan was gaunt and haggard, her eyes brimming with tears as she shook her head desperately. She mouthed to her husband that it was all right, that they were a family, and that even in death, they would die together.

Yet, no matter how hard she tried, only muffled, indistinct whimpers escaped her lips.

Even the luxury of a final farewell was denied to them, words now useless.

But perhaps words were unnecessary. After ten years as husband and wife, twenty years together, their souls had long since become one. A single glance could express all their hearts wished to say.

“The hour has come. Begin the sentence!”

The black-clad, masked inspector barked out the order. At once, a dozen burly men bearing torches surged forward from all sides and set the wood beneath the cages ablaze.

With a roar, the wood—soaked in accelerant—erupted into a fierce blaze, and the raging fire quickly engulfed the massive chromium-gold cages.

Clutching her child, Chen Yan strained to press herself closer to her husband, closer still, as close as possible.

Her husband’s embrace was the safest, warmest place in the world.

It had always been so. It was so even now.

At the foot of Green Mountain, a humble farmhouse.

A man in plain clothing sat in the yard, cradling a delicate, exquisitely formed infant. The baby was swaddled in a vast, black cloak, its tiny body unable to move, staring wide-eyed at the man and the world around.

The man’s expression was desolate; his face ashen, with a deep trail of tears at the corner of his eye.

After a long, silent interval, he suddenly seized a bottle of liquor from a nearby table and poured himself a full cup.

He raised the cup, let a few drops fall into the infant’s mouth, and said, “From today on, we are family. Come, little fellow, let’s celebrate together.”

The fiery spirit burned the baby’s throat, making his face flush red and bringing forth a wailing cry.

Unmoved, the man drained the rest of the cup in one gulp. Facing the clear breeze and bright moon, he sang in a hoarse voice:

“A general’s hundred battles leave his name in tatters. On the riverbank, I look back over ten thousand miles, old friends forever lost.

The chilly wind of Yi River moans bleak and cold, and the assembly’s robes gleam white as snow. The hero’s mournful song is not yet finished, and the birds that wail understand such grief, their tears never dry, their cries stained with blood.

Who will join me in drinking beneath the bright moon?”

From inside the house came the long-suppressed sobs of a woman.

It was as if she were humming a harmony.