The storm arrived before the Emperor did.

Rain hammered the palace rooftops while thunder rolled across the mountains surrounding the capital. Once the seat of order, the palace had become a den of indulgence.

Wine stained marble floors. Silk banners hung torn and crooked. Music echoed through halls where generals once stood. Drunken nobles lounged across stolen furniture beside painted courtesans.

They had grown comfortable.

Because Li Xuanye had been gone for months.

Because everyone believed the Black Dragon Emperor was dead.

And no one feared a dead man.

Then the palace gates exploded inward.

Silence swallowed the celebration.

A figure stood within the storm.

Tall. Broad. Motionless.

Lightning illuminated dark gray skin marked by countless scars, long black hair whipping in the wind, and pale eyes set within black scleras. Black smoke curled from his body—not from fire, but from rage.

Li Xuanye had returned.

A bloodied sword hung at his side, rain washing crimson from its blade as he surveyed the ruined palace.

People began to run.

“The Emperor!”

“He’s alive!”

Xuanye ignored them.

Each step echoed through the halls as servants and nobles scattered before him. The smoke around him thickened as he made his way toward the imperial chambers.

The doors stood open.

Laughter drifted from inside.

His hand touched the frame.

Wood splintered.

The doors exploded inward.

Silence followed.

His council lounged throughout the chamber, drinking and laughing inside the emperor’s own suite. Men who had once sworn loyalty before heaven itself.

Then his gaze found the bed.

Yùlán.

His wife. His empress.

Pinned against the silken sheets.

One man covered her mouth while another held her down as she struggled beneath them.

The moment she saw Xuanye, relief flooded her face.

The man above her turned.

“Y-Your Majesty—”

Xuanye moved.

One moment the traitor stood beside the bed.

The next he crashed through a lacquered screen hard enough to shatter bone.

Chaos erupted.

Councilmen reached for weapons or fled for the doors. None escaped.

Months of war and bloodshed poured into the fury consuming him.

A traitor lunged.

Xuanye crushed his throat.

Another drew a sword.

The emperor’s blade flashed once.

The weapon fell.

Its owner followed.

Screams filled the chamber, then vanished one by one until only thunder remained.

Rain battered the windows.

Blood stained the floor.

Bodies lay motionless throughout the room.

And at the center of it all stood Li Xuanye, the Black Dragon Emperor—alive, victorious, and furious beyond measure.