Chapter LXXXIX - The Man Who Came Through the Storm
The first rider burst from the blizzard like a blade cutting through white silk.
Then another.
Then another.
Silver wolf cavalry.
Imperial elite.
Prince Rui's personal guard.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Because everyone understood:
He was here.
—
The stranger smiled.
Almost happily.
As though this moment had been expected for years.
Then the sound of hoofbeats stopped.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Absolute.
And through the swirling snow—
a black horse emerged.
Its rider wore dark armor dusted with frost.
Snow clung to his cloak.
His sword hung at his side.
And his eyes—
his eyes found Shen Li immediately.
Always immediately.
The moment Prince Rui saw her standing unharmed—
something inside him relaxed.
Only slightly.
Enough.
Because for three days he had ridden almost without rest.
Driven by instinct.
Driven by fear.
Driven by her.
Dangerous man.
Very dangerous man.
Then his gaze shifted.
Toward the stranger.
And every trace of warmth vanished.
—
The guards stepped aside instinctively.
Not because they were ordered.
Because Prince Rui looked like winter itself.
Cold.
Merciless.
Terrifying.
The stranger laughed softly.
"It's been a long time."
Prince Rui dismounted.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Then:
"Not long enough."
Silence crashed across the camp.
Because clearly—
they knew each other.
The realization unsettled everyone.
Including Shen Li.
Then Prince Rui finally walked forward.
Not toward the stranger.
Toward Shen Li.
Always first.
He stopped before her.
Looked her over carefully.
Searching.
Checking.
Confirming.
No injuries.
No blood.
No harm.
Only after satisfying himself completely did he speak.
His voice was low.
Rough.
Dangerously emotional.
"Princess Rui."
The words carried a hundred unspoken fears.
Shen Li's chest tightened painfully.
Then softly:
"Your Highness."
For a moment—
everything else disappeared.
The assassins.
The storm.
The conspiracy.
Only them remained.
Then Prince Rui reached out.
And touched her cheek.
Warm fingers.
Gentle.
Almost disbelieving.
As though reassuring himself she was real.
The gesture shattered what remained of Shen Li's composure.
Because suddenly—
she realized how frightened he must have been.
—
Then Prince Rui stepped in front of her.
Shielding her completely.
The movement was instinctive.
Immediate.
Absolute.
Only afterward did he look at the stranger again.
And the atmosphere turned lethal.
"Wei Jian."
The name echoed softly through the storm.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The stranger bowed slightly.
Mockingly.
"Prince Rui remembers me."
"Unfortunately."
The answer made several guards tighten their grips on their weapons.
Because Prince Rui sounded like a man discussing an execution.
—
Then Shen Li quietly asked:
"Who is he?"
Silence.
The storm howled.
Then Prince Rui answered.
Without looking away from Wei Jian.
"A ghost."
Interesting answer.
Terrifying answer.
Then:
"Seven years ago he died."
Wei Jian smiled.
"Clearly not."
Prince Rui's expression darkened.
Because that wasn't the point.
The point was:
He should have died.
Which meant someone powerful had hidden him.
Protected him.
Used him.
The realization settled heavily.
Then Wei Jian spoke again.
"You survived."
The words sounded strange.
Almost disappointed.
Then:
"You weren't supposed to."
Absolute silence.
Because suddenly—
there it was.
The truth.
Not hidden anymore.
Not implied.
Direct.
Prince Rui had been marked for death seven years ago.
And Wei Jian had known.
—
The Black Sparrow's face hardened.
Because she remembered now.
Old rumors.
Old orders.
Old disappearances.
Then softly she whispered:
"You were there."
Wei Jian looked amused.
"Of course I was there."
Then his gaze returned to Prince Rui.
And for the first time—
the smile vanished.
Only seriousness remained.
"I delivered the order."
Silence crashed across the camp.
The world stopped.
Because suddenly—
the mystery of seven years finally stood exposed.
Then Wei Jian quietly finished:
"The order to kill Prince Rui came through me."
No one breathed.
No one moved.
Not even the storm seemed loud enough anymore.
Then Prince Rui asked the question everyone wanted answered.
The question buried beneath seven years of war.
Seven years of blood.
Seven years of survival.
"Who gave it?"
Wei Jian smiled.
Small.
Dangerous.
Almost triumphant.
Then he answered:
"The answer is waiting in the capital."
And before anyone could react—
he moved.
Fast.
Far too fast.
A hidden blade flashed.
The assassins exploded into motion.
The storm erupted into violence.
And Prince Rui's sword cleared its sheath.
At last.
The confrontation truly began. ??????