Weaves of Ashes-Chapter 170 - 165: Grandfather’s Wrath

Location: Bronze Dragon Territories → Demon Realm Border

Time: Day 215 (Doha Actual) - Midday → Evening | Calendar: 6 Voidmarch, 9938 AZI

An hour later, Heihuo stood in his private chambers, watching his real team assemble while rage still burned hot in his chest.

With or without you, grandfather had said.

Threat. Promise. Warning that Heihuo was expendable if he failed. That years of investment could be written off like bad debt if his grandson didn’t deliver results.

Well.

Heihuo had spent centuries preparing for a moment exactly like this. Building loyalty among dragons who’d follow him instead of the ancient tyrant. Cultivating resources Shanshe didn’t know existed. Waiting for an opportunity that would let him step out of his grandfather’s crushing shadow.

And now that opportunity was here.

His chambers were larger than most dragons’ estates—rewards of being heir to an ancient elder. Bronze-veined walls carved with scenes of conquest. Floor tiles that shimmered with embedded fire crystals. Furniture crafted by master artisans who’d spent decades perfecting each piece. Windows offering views across territories that would—eventually—belong to him.

If he survived what was coming.

If he succeeded where his grandfather expected him to fail.

If he was ruthless enough.

Twenty dragons filled the space. Not lounging casually but standing at attention. Not servants awaiting orders but warriors ready for war. Each one hand-picked over decades. Each one owing Heihuo their position, their power, their future.

Not two elite guards.

Twenty warriors.

Each one loyal to HIM, not to an aging tyrant who thought threats still commanded absolute obedience.

Heihuo studied them with satisfaction. Tiejaw stood at front—second-in-command, veteran of the last Zartonesh war, scarred and deadly and loyal for two hundred years. Beside him, Molten—younger but vicious, specialized in assassination, had eliminated three of Heihuo’s rivals without leaving evidence. Then Copperscale, Bronzeclaw, Firewing, and fifteen others. All elite. All dangerous. All understanding what they’d signed up for.

"Xinglong headed northeast," Heihuo told them. His voice carrying authority grandfather thought belonged only to ancient dragons. Command that came not from age but from certainty. "Demon realm border. We track him. Don’t engage directly. Just follow at a distance."

Tiejaw nodded. Veteran understanding flowing between them without the need for excessive explanation.

"And when he finds the silver queen?" Tiejaw asked. Confirming. Making sure everyone understood the stakes.

Heihuo smiled. Scars pulling skin tight. Reminding him why he’d learned to be careful about witnesses. Why he’d learned patience. Why he’d spent centuries building up to this moment.

"Then we eliminate him and his brothers," Heihuo said. Calm. Matter-of-fact. Discussing logistics rather than murder. "Take the dragonesses—the silver queen and the two shadow dragon sisters. Quickly. Quietly. Leave no witnesses who can testify. Leave no evidence that points back to us."

Murmurs of understanding rippled through assembled dragons. They knew what they’d signed up for. Murder. Treason. Betrayal of sect alliances that dated back millennia. Crimes that would start wars if discovered.

They didn’t care.

Because bronze dragon culture bred ruthlessness. Survival of the strongest. Power respected. Weakness punished. And right now—watching sect tear itself apart, watching grandfather purge dissenters, watching an empire built on lies finally fracture—every dragon in this room understood that old order was dying.

Question was: who would build a new one?

Grandfather looked strong—still a tyrant, still dangerous, still capable of killing anyone who crossed him. Still backed by millennia of accumulated power, resources, and fear.

But Heihuo looked stronger. Younger. Less constrained by ancient alliances and outdated honor codes. Ready to do whatever is necessary to claim power. And—most importantly—he had a plan instead of just reactive violence.

"The queen comes with us," Heihuo continued. "To my holdings in the human realm. NOT to grandfather’s estate, where his spies watch everything. NOT to bronze dragon territories where every move is reported back to the ancient tyrant who thinks he controls everything."

He paused. Let that sink in.

"My holdings. My control. My future."

One of the younger dragons—a recent recruit named Ashscale, barely three centuries old, still learning how bronze dragon politics actually worked—spoke up. Voice uncertain. "But Elder Shanshe’s orders were to bring the queen directly to—"

Tiejaw’s hand shot out like a striking snake. Grabbed the younger dragon’s throat before he could finish the sentence. Slammed him against the wall hard enough to crack stone. Claws digging into scales. Essence signature flaring with killing intent.

"Lord Heihuo’s orders," Tiejaw said quietly. Dangerously. Voice carrying promise of death for further questions. "Are the only ones that matter in this room. Are we clear?"

Ashscale nodded frantically. Eyes wide. Terror bleeding through his essence signature.

Tiejaw held him there moment longer. Making sure the lesson was learned. Then released him. Let the younger dragon slide down the wall, gasping.

"Anyone else need clarification?" Tiejaw asked. Scanning assembled dragons with cold precision.

Silence. Absolute. Everyone understanding hierarchy perfectly now.

Heihuo watched with satisfaction. Good. Let them all understand reality. Grandfather commanded bronze dragon sect through terror and millennia of accumulated authority. But HERE? In this room? Among these dragons?

Heihuo commanded absolutely.

"Once we have the queen secured," Heihuo said, continuing as if the interruption had never happened, "we establish control. Make her understand that cooperation benefits her far more than resistance. Show her what happens to queens who fall into less... reasonable hands."

He gestured toward the window where smoke still rose from burning estates. Where civil war continued. Where grandfather purged dissenters with brutal efficiency.

"Grandfather would lock her in a cage like he did Xueteng. Force her to create queens through threat and violence until she chooses death over continued slavery. Red dragons would manipulate her through political leverage and trade agreements that trap her in a gilded prison. Green dragons would smother her with false kindness that hides poison underneath."

Heihuo smiled. Cold calculation behind it.

"We’ll be different. Honest. Direct. We have power—she has value. We work together—she restores fertility, creates queens, saves dying species. We protect her from those who’d actually hurt her. From tyrants and manipulators and false friends."

He paused. Met each dragon’s eyes. "Mutual benefit. Sustainable arrangement. Relationship built on partnership rather than slavery."

Lie, whispered voice in his head. You’ll control her just like grandfather would. Just with prettier words. Just with the illusion of choice that hides the same cage underneath.

But pretty words worked better than threats. Heihuo had learned that lesson watching grandfather alienate allies through brutality. Had learned that dragons followed willingly when they believed they had a choice, even if that choice was a carefully constructed illusion.

Control through gratitude lasted longer than control through fear.

Made rebellions less likely. Made escape attempts less frequent. Made willing cooperation more probable.

Better cage was still a cage. But the occupant who believed she’d chosen it was easier to manage than the occupant who knew she’d been forced.

"Questions?" Heihuo asked.

Tiejaw spoke. "What if shadow dragons have more support than expected? What if Demon King gets involved?"

Smart question. Tactical mind still sharp after centuries of war.

"Then we adapt," Heihuo said. "If shadow dragons have reinforcements, we use superior numbers and eliminate them. If Demon King gets involved..." He considered. "We negotiate. Demons value trade. We offer something valuable in exchange. Appeal to pragmatism rather than force."

"And if he refuses negotiation?" Molten asked. Assassin’s mind always planning for violence.

Heihuo smiled. "Twenty bronze dragons can’t take demon palace by force. But we can create chaos. Cause distractions. Extract one dragoness during confusion while demon forces are occupied elsewhere."

Risky. Dangerous. Might trigger a war between dragons and demons.

But Heihuo would have the silver queen. Would have power beyond anything his grandfather could threaten. Would have the future of dragon realm in his claws.

Worth the risk.

"Prepare for departure," Heihuo commanded. "We leave within an hour. Travel light. Move fast. Humanoid forms only—no revealing dragon shapes unless absolutely necessary. We’re merchants traveling the demon realm trade routes. Mundane. Unremarkable. Nothing that draws attention."

Dragons dispersed. Moving with practiced efficiency. Gathering supplies, checking weapons, and preparing for a mission that would either make them legends or get them all killed.

Heihuo turned back to the window. Watched smoke rise from grandfather’s burning empire.

With or without you, grandfather had said.

Fine.

Let grandfather discover soon enough which option he’d chosen.

***

They departed at midday—twenty bronze dragons in humanoid forms, dressed as merchants traveling demon realm trade routes. Mundane clothing that hid expensive silk underneath. Glamours masking essence signatures to appear unremarkable. Weapons concealed but readily accessible.

Moving through neutral territories with practiced ease born from centuries of covert missions.

Heihuo led them northeast. Following intelligence reports, his spies had gathered about Xinglong’s path. Tracking essence signatures, shadow dragons thought they’d hidden but hadn’t quite managed to mask completely.

The terrain shifted as they traveled. Bronze dragon territories giving way to neutral borderlands—land belonging to no one, claimed by whoever had the strength to hold it. Wild territories where law was whoever was the strongest ruled.

Vegetation changed from heat-loving fire orchids and molten maples that thrived in bronze territories’ artificial warmth to hardier species. Ashwood trees with bark like cooling lava. Iron grass that clinked like bells in the wind when essence signatures passed nearby. Plants that could survive temperature extremes and essence fluctuations without withering.

Air cooling as they moved away from bronze territories. Heihuo breathed it in. Let coolness settle into scales. Comfortable. Familiar from centuries of missions beyond grandfather’s sight.

They moved quickly but carefully. Not rushing—rushing drew attention. But not dawdling either. Steady pace that ate kilometers while appearing unhurried.

Heihuo had done this before. Many times. Missions grandfather hadn’t sanctioned. Operations that built Heihuo’s personal power base while appearing to simply follow orders.

Centuries of preparation paying off now.

By evening, they reached the first demon realm outpost.

Border town called Ash’s Edge. Population maybe three thousand—mixed demons, dragons, occasional humans, and even rarer species that drifted between realms looking for opportunity or running from consequences. All conducting business with careful neutrality that characterized frontier territories.

No one cared about realm politics here. No one asked uncomfortable questions. Money talked. Power commanded. Everything else was noise.

Perfect place for bronze dragons to disappear into the background while gathering intelligence.

Heihuo’s team split smoothly. Some stayed in town, blending into taverns and brothels and gambling dens where information flowed like wine. Others pushed ahead, scouting trails Xinglong might have taken. Watching for signs of shadow dragon passage—displaced essence signatures, disturbed vegetation, witnesses who’d seen powerful dragons passing through.

Heihuo himself took a room at an inn called Burning Crown. Appropriate name for a place where the heir to the bronze dragon throne would plot grandfather’s downfall.

He ordered wine and fire-spiced meat. Settled into a corner booth where he could watch the door and listen to tavern gossip while appearing as an uninterested merchant waiting out the evening before continuing his journey.

The conversations swirled around him like smoke—

"—heard Demon King hasn’t been seen publicly in days—"

"—palace on lockdown after he returned. Guards doubled. No one allowed in or out—"

"—my cousin’s in city guard, says something happened down there. King came back... different. Dangerous. Even his own guards are nervous—"

Heihuo’s attention sharpened. Ren d’Aar. Palace locked down tight. King acting different. Unknown journey. And this just right after the magic pulse.

Interesting.

He sipped wine slowly. Processed implications while appearing to focus on food.

If Xinglong was tracking the silver queen to the demon realm, and Ren’s palace was suddenly locked down tight after some unknown trip...

Coincidence? Or connection?

Heihuo’s hand froze halfway to the wine cup.

No, he thought. It can’t be that easy.

But evidence assembled itself like puzzle pieces sliding into place: Shadow dragons felt a magical pulse that originated southeast. Xinglong heading toward the demon realm capital. Ren d’Aar’s palace locked down and refusing visitors. King acting "different" and "dangerous."

The silver queen might be there. Under demon protection. Possibly under the Demon King’s personal protection.

Which meant...

Heihuo’s mind raced through implications. Demon King. Ancient. Powerful. Notoriously protective of anything he claimed as his. Had a treaty with dragons but no particular love for them. History of responding to perceived insults with devastating violence.

If the silver queen had somehow ended up in Ren’s direct custody—if she was under his personal protection rather than just being somewhere in the demon realm—things got significantly more complicated.

But not impossible.

Demons valued trade. Negotiation. Strategic alliances that benefited both parties. Ren was a pragmatist before an idealist. Heihuo could work with that. Offer something valuable in exchange for the silver queen. Establish mutual benefit. Appeal to demon pragmatism rather than honor or morality.

And if Ren refused?

Well.

Twenty bronze dragons couldn’t take demon palace by force. Even Heihuo wasn’t that arrogant or stupid. Demon King in his own palace, backed by the demon realm military, was fight no one won.

But they could cause chaos. Create distractions. Extract one dragoness during confusion while demon forces were occupied. Messy. Dangerous. Might trigger a war between dragons and demons.

But Heihuo would have the silver queen. Would have power beyond anything his grandfather could threaten. Would have the future of dragon realm in his claws.

Worth the risk.

He drained wine. Stood. Time to brief his team about new complications. Time to prepare for the possibility that this hunt might end with blood spilled in the demon realm palace itself.

If that’s what it took to claim his future.

So be it.

***

Back in the bronze dragon territories, Elder Shanshe stood before a communication crystal in his private study.

Pulsing. Glowing. Connected to a spy network that had taken millennia to build. Resources hidden so deep that even most bronze dragons didn’t know they existed.

Reports filtered in with mechanical precision:

Eastern district: Reformers eliminated. Thirty-seven dead in "training accident" when formation collapsed. No survivors to contradict the official story.

Western territories: Loyalist forces securing key holdings. Minimal resistance after examples were made of three reform leaders. Bodies displayed in the town square as a warning.

Southern borders: Deserters tracked to neutral territories. Assassination teams deployed. Expected elimination within three days.

Good. Sect bleeding? Let it bleed. Purge weakness. Keep only dragons ruthless enough to survive what was coming. Only dragons loyal enough—or terrified enough—to follow orders without question.

And quintet: Xinglong sighted heading northeast toward the demon realm capital. Huifu heading toward the Lower Realm. Hulong in human territories. Sisters are splitting north and east.

All searching. All following that pulse, they’d felt. All probably still blind, operating on instinct rather than confirmed intelligence.

And Heihuo following Xinglong with his two elite guards exactly as—

Communication crystal pulsed again. Different frequency. Urgent. An emergency channel that is only activated for critical intelligence.

Shanshe’s massive hand moved to the crystal. Activated secure channel. "Report."

"My lord," his head of intelligence said. Voice tight with tension that came from bearing bad news to a tyrant. "Lord Heihuo didn’t take two guards."

Shanshe went very still. Dangerously still. Like a predator that had just spotted prey.

"Explain."

"Our watchers counted at least twenty bronze dragons leaving with him. Disguised as merchants. Moving in coordinated formation. All from his personal forces—dragons who’ve served him rather than the sect directly."

Silence.

Long.

Dangerous.

Then Shanshe’s fist smashed into the table. Crystal cracking beneath impact. Wood splintering like breaking bones. Essence signature exploding outward in a wave that rattled the entire estate and sent nearby dragons scrambling for cover.

"TREACHEROUS WHELP!"

His grandson. His heir. His investment of centuries of training and resources, and carefully cultivated authority. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Betraying him.

Of course, part of Shanshe’s mind whispered coldly. Analytical even through rage. Of course he is. You made him ruthless. Made him ambitious. Made him willing to betray anyone for power. You just didn’t think he’d betray YOU.

The rage burned through him like wildfire, consuming dried grass. Heihuo thought he was clever. Thought he could use chaos as cover for a coup. Thought he could claim the silver queen for himself and leave Shanshe with nothing but burning territories and diminished authority.

Fool.

Arrogant. Stupid. FOOL.

But also... Shanshe had to admit with bitter satisfaction... exactly what he’d trained his heir to be. Opportunistic. Ruthless. Willing to betray family for power.

Just like Shanshe himself had been at that age.

The difference was: Shanshe’s grandfather had been weak. Old. Deserving of being overthrown.

Shanshe was neither.

He activated a different crystal. Emergency channel connected to resources he’d kept hidden even from his heir. Final contingency. Enforcers who answered only to him. Dragons so loyal—or so terrified—that they’d follow any order without question or hesitation.

"Deployment order," Shanshe commanded. Voice cold. Measured. Carrying the promise of absolute brutality. "Follow my grandson. Track him to the demon realm. Don’t let him see you. When he captures the silver queen, wait until he’s secured her."

He paused. Let the weight of the next words settle.

"Then eliminate his entire team. Every dragon. Leave no survivors who could testify. Make it look like a demon realm attack or a shadow dragon ambush. Something that deflects blame from bronze sect."

"Including Lord Heihuo?" the enforcer asked. No surprise in voice. No judgment. Just confirmation of orders.

"ESPECIALLY Heihuo," Shanshe snarled. "I want proof. I want his head. I want every dragon in this realm to know what happens to those who betray me. To those who think chaos makes me weak. To those who confuse the current crisis with permanent vulnerability."

Silence on the other end. Then: "Understood, my lord. And silver queen?"

"Bring her to me," Shanshe said. "Intact. Unharmed. Ready to restore bronze dragon dominance. Along with my grandson’s head mounted on a pike as a warning to any other ambitious fools."

Communication crystal went dark.

Shanshe stood alone in his study. Watching fires burn across territories he’d ruled for thirty-five thousand years. Watching an empire built on lies, violence, and ruthless pragmatism threaten to collapse.

Two hunting parties now. Neither knowing about the other.

Heihuo thinking he was betraying his grandfather for personal gain. Planning coup while his grandfather was distracted by a civil war.

Shanshe’s enforcers preparing to kill Heihuo and everyone loyal to him. Planning to eliminate the threat while making it look like an accident or enemy action.

All converging on the same target.

You wanted to play this game, Shanshe thought coldly. Wanted to prove you’re worthy of being heir by betraying me when I appeared weak.

Fine.

Let’s see if you’re ruthless enough to survive what’s coming.

Because Shanshe was.

He’d survived Zartonesh invasions. Outlived countless enemies. Built an empire on lies so convincing they became truth. Enslaved queens and murdered rivals, and did whatever was necessary to maintain power.

One grandson’s betrayal wouldn’t stop him.

Nothing would stop him.

Elder Shanshe would have his silver queen. Would restore bronze dragon dominance. Would rebuild the empire from the ashes if necessary. Would purge every disloyal dragon—including treacherous heir—and find a new successor who understood that betraying the ancient tyrant required more than opportunism.

Required actually being more ruthless than the tyrant himself.

And anyone—anyone—who stood in his way would learn exactly why he’d ruled for thirty-five thousand years.

By being more ruthless than anyone else could imagine.

Even his own blood.

Especially his own blood.