Chapter Two Remember This

CHAPTER TWO

REMEMBER THIS

“Going into the estate bunkers. Connection might be spotty. ”

That’s the last message from Yizhi. No reply comes when I ask him for an update.

I connect to the Yellow Dragon once more and launch it airborne, praying I’ll make it back to Chang’an in time.

To my agony, I can sense the Yellow Dragon doesn’t have enough qì for the trip and a potential battle, so I’ll have to recharge at Mount Zhurong first. I navigate by feeling for the spirit signatures of the other pilots that came to take back the Zhou province. Before I took off in search of the gods, I told them to stay put near the volcano.

Worst-case scenarios whirl through my mind as I race the Dragon over a blur of mountains and valleys sketched out by moonlight. Yizhi is using the Gao Estate as a base. I falter in my flight when I imagine the Azure Dragon destroying it like I destroyed the Palace of Sages. Yizhi said he went to hide in the estate’s bunkers, but who knows if someone might jump at the chance to betray him? He just killed his father to take over Gao Enterprises. They only swore loyalty to him out of fear—fear of me . But I’m not there. How easily might they be swayed to Liu Che’s side?

Even if I make it in time, how can I continue protecting Yizhi every second, every hour, every day?

Me and Yizhi against the world. It seemed so thrilling when I destroyed the Kaihuang watchtower and the Palace of Sages so the powerful men in them couldn’t kill me first, but a cold new reality presses down on me, heavier by the second. How can two people hold down an entire nation that doesn’t want them as rulers?

In the yīn-yáng realm, Qin Zheng’s spirit form remains passively seated, eyes closed. I have no idea how dependable he’ll be. Dread pounds in me like a frantic heartbeat, louder and louder. Despite the Yellow Dragon’s unbeatable might, I am a human with limits, ones I’m stretching too thin. I was already close to collapsing, and now I have to deal with this .

But I can’t give in. I can no longer drop my guard for a single second.

Soon, Mount Zhurong’s jagged volcano opening cuts into view. Its ashen incline glimmers with shattered Hundun remains. Among them are the Chrysalises that survived the counter-attack, deactivated in their Dormant Forms. Most pilots have their cockpits open and are sitting partly outside, barely visible on my scale. As we get closer, the tiny figures jerk to attention and vanish back inside their Chrysalises. In spurts of light, the army reactivates.

When I dip the Yellow Dragon’s tail into the volcano to draw qì from within the planet, I have no choice but to land on the Hundun remains. Every gleaming shard fills me with nausea, reminding me of the Hunduns’ bursts of anger and grief as we killed them.

“Hey!” The White Tiger leaps toward us in Standard Form, paws thudding against the mountain. Its mouth glows a dark green as it speaks, a mix of Qieluo’s Wood-green qì and Yang Jian’s Water-black qì. “What happened? Why’d you suddenly fly off?”

Right. I didn’t tell them what I’d heard from Yizhi and the gods before leaving in a frenzy. The truth surges in me like bile, burning to spill free, but the unshakable presence of Qin Zheng’s meditating form in the yīn-yáng realm makes me swallow it down. I don’t doubt he’d kill me for letting it slip. I have to wait for a better time.

“I was looking for the gods,” I tell part of the truth through the Yellow Dragon’s mouth, “to see if they really took the Vermilion Bird’s head as you saw.”

The Tiger’s eyes search the stars. “Did you…find them?”

“No.”

Loud metallic echoes cluster over the mountainside as other Chrysalises gather behind the White Tiger in the manner of awaiting command. When I’d first landed back here, before Qieluo and Yang Jian told me about the vanishing aircraft that took the Vermilion Bird’s shattered head, I’d announced my destruction of the Palace of Sages to these pilots. They were dumbfounded, of course, but none of them raised any protest. Having Qin Zheng on my side is an effective deterrent, at least. However, it’s one thing to not defy me; it’s another to actively join me in changing everything about the world we know.

“Qieluo, Yang Jian.” My voice shakes slightly as I address the White Tiger, the only unit to disobey the strategists and come to my aid before I dug up Qin Zheng. “When the Black Tortoise attacked the Vermilion Bird, why did you try to help us?”

They’re quiet for a beat before saying, “Because it was proof that, sooner or later, we would’ve been next.”

Their words reverberate deep inside me. In an instant, I understand what they mean. They’re getting close to twenty-five years old, that mythical age when pilots are allowed to retire. Except it’s an open secret in the army that aging pilots face the prospect of getting “tributed”—deliberately left to die in battle so the Hunduns can physically feel their spirit pressures extinguish, which tends to calm the Hunduns down for a while. Qieluo and Yang Jian may have believed their war accolades could save them from this fate, but the order to purge me and Shimin demonstrated that the government will dispose of any of us the moment we stop being useful, even if we win back a whole province for Huaxia.

Now that can change, and Qieluo and Yang Jian could be my strongest allies.

I raise the Dragon’s head to speak to the wider army of Chrysalises. “Did you all hear what I revealed near the end of the counterattack, about the pilot system being deliberately skewed against female pilots?”

Hesitant murmurs go through the crowd.

“Yes,” the White Tiger says with particular force, its green left eye shining brighter. “It explained a lot.”

“Well, now is the time to create a new system! We can remedy not only this injustice, but others in the old order! May piloting no longer be a sentence to die young!”

Silence stretches uncomfortably long before one Chrysalis lets out a cheer. The rest quickly join in, their voices building to a wall of noise that soars toward the heavens. Many voices sound forced by fear, though. It’ll take some time for them to accept that the world has turned upside down.

That’s okay. I don’t need all of them.

“Liu Che and Wei Zifu are heading for Chang’an,” I say as quietly as I can to the White Tiger. “Will you come with us?”

“ Those brats? We can come, but we won’t be much help against the Azure Dragon. We can’t fly.”

“Just watching our backs is enough.” I bow the Yellow Dragon’s snout toward them. “Climb on, and call some other pilots you trust.”

The White Tiger pounces onto the Yellow Dragon’s head while shouting half a dozen unit names, including the Ocean-Filling Bird, the Quilled Ox, and the Long-Toothed Hog. I vaguely remember some of them from battle broadcasts.

They settle along the Dragon’s long body. Once I feel it’s filled to nearly full with qì from Mount Zhurong, I propel us all into flight.

“The rest of you, make camp!” I call to the army we’re leaving behind.

The original post-counterattack plan was indeed for most of us to stay at the Zhou frontier, spread out across the Kunlun Mountains. Cockpits and radio trucks had packed plenty of rations and supplies for campsites. Additional personnel were supposed to come and restore the Great Wall around the Zhou frontier. I don’t know how much of that will still happen. There’s too much to think about.

I push the Yellow Dragon as fast as it will fly, guiding myself using a trail of crushed trees across the Zhou province. Although it’s impossible to tell in the night, I like to think it’s the exact path stomped out by me and Shimin in the Vermilion Bird this morning, leading me home.

Spots bloom and wane at the edges of my consciousness. The urge to ask Qin Zheng to do this mundane traveling for me bubbles in my mind, but I smack it down. After everything I went through to seize this power, there’s no way I can willingly give up control of it.

Through a small eternity of flying, I pass the Great Wall, then rolling mountains with occasional patches of electric-lit villages and cities. I follow the brightest highways in the dark, which will inevitably lead to Chang’an. What are the ordinary people thinking after hearing their government was toppled? I imagine my old neighbors rushing out their doors, buzzing with the instinct to run for their lives yet drawing a blank on where they’re supposed to go. They’ll find no salvation closer to the heart of Huaxia, where I’ve taken hold. They can’t retreat into the Hundun wilds, cleared for now but still a vast landscape of uncertainty.

Did I really cause this? Did I really break the world beyond repair? My mind drifts as though it can no longer connect with reality.

By the time I reach Chang’an, it feels like I’ve been awake for days. If the Yellow Dragon had eyelids, I’d be struggling to keep them open.

The capital is eerily silent, though every apartment window is bright with lights, making the cluttered buildings look like gleaming pillars. Millions of gawking eyes must be watching anxiously for how the world will change next. Before I took off for Zhou, I issued a curfew, ordering everyone back to their homes and forbidding them from leaving without permission. The streets are empty but for a few patrolling vehicles. Through his family’s connections, Yizhi mobilized the capital soldiers to enforce the curfew. The fact that they’re still complying is a relief. That means Yizhi is safe.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

The Yellow Dragon’s shadow glides over Chang’an’s Main Street, wide enough for six lanes of traffic. We pass Unification Plaza, which has a giant statue of Qin Zheng wielding spirit metal like mercury, placed amid a maelstrom of neon billboards. I try not to dwell on how surreal it is that I’m in a mind link with the exact historical figure that statue is based on.

Using my spirit sense, I feel for a powerful spirit pressure beyond the Chrysalises we’re carrying. Indeed, one such signature speeds closer from the distance. That must be the Azure Dragon. We got here just before it.

“Wu Zetian.” A flat voice suddenly speaks inside the Dragon’s cockpit. It startles me so much that I lose some altitude.

“Wu Zetian.” The voice speaks more loudly, echoing in the cockpit. It sounds artificial, like a text-to-speech program. But where precisely is it coming from? My wristlet? “You are forbidden from destroying the Azure Dragon or killing the pilots inside. They must be returned to the Han frontier to ensure the integrity of your Great Wall. Your Han province sent a significant number of Chrysalises to reinforce the Sui-Tang counterattack. It cannot lose another Prince-class unit.”

What?

“Do not think of disobeying this command. There will be consequences.”

I almost scoff, but then Yizhi’s smiling face crosses my mind. I don’t know where he is right now. I truly can’t risk it.

I stumble into a thunderous landing over the ruins of the Palace of Sages, the one place in Chang’an where I can reasonably park the Yellow Dragon. Rubble rolls down Mount Ziwei as I coil the length of the Dragon’s body around it. The White Tiger and the other Chrysalises leap off, attention whipping toward the Azure Dragon’s incoming spirit signature.

Defeat it without destroying it. That’s not impossible. Back in the Kunlun Mountains, Qin Zheng defeated the Water Emperor by sapping its qì dry, not making a single scratch. The Azure Dragon should be even easier. It’s made of Wood-type spirit metal, the leakiest type.

The sheer sound of it reaches us first, a parting of the night air like a monstrous roar. Then its long body streaks in across the cosmos like a skeletal dragon chiseled out of jade, one eye socket glowing Fire red and the other Earth yellow. Massive bat-like wings flap from its back, and its bare spine trails into a lashing, bony tail. Its chest looks like a bulk of spirit metal clasped by an exposed rib cage, which reminds me disturbingly of—

No. Don’t think of that. Don’t think of him.

With a blinding burst of light, the Azure Dragon transforms into Heroic Form. Its front claws split and shudder into four bony arms. Its wings grow wider. Its antlers lengthen. Its skeletal body wrenches itself into bipedal orientation, adorned with red and yellow highlights. The clashing colors blur against the night as it dives toward us, wings spreading against the stars.

I crouch down on the Yellow Dragon’s many claws before springing into battle. According to the battle broadcasts that constantly played in my house, the Azure Dragon should be about fifty meters tall in its Heroic Form. Yet from my current perspective it doesn’t look much bigger than a human. Its four arms cross over its chest to snap off four of its ribs, which then sharpen into swords.

Maneuvering the Yellow Dragon is much harder after my brief reprieve, like trying to pick up a heavy weight again after dropping it due to muscle-ripping pain.

“We don’t need to fight!” I shout through the Yellow Dragon’s mouth while dodging sword strikes. “The old government doesn’t deserve your loyalty! If you join us, we can change the war system so you won’t get tributed once you’re in your twenties!”

“We will never join you, harlot!” the Azure Dragon yells back, mouth glowing orange from a blend of Earth yellow and Fire red.

Harlot? What is going on with their vocabulary?

“We could give your families massive plots of land in the Zhou province!” I throw out a promise. I’ll think about the logistics later. “We did just free the whole thing, you know!”

“We will not be tempted by the darkness!”

My confusion about the overdramatic way they’re talking scatters when I remember Liu Che is fourteen and Wei Zifu is thirteen.

There’ll be no reasoning with them.

I pounce toward the Azure Dragon, aiming to sap it dry and get this over with. Yet it swerves behind me with shocking speed, wings sailing on the air. I turn, grabbing at it, only to miss by an embarrassing distance.

Oh, no . Wood-type Chrysalises are the fastest, so fast the Yellow Dragon can’t keep up. It’s like trying to swat a fly with a brick column I can barely lift. I twist the Yellow Dragon around with much difficulty and retreat toward the palace ruins. Maybe I can bait a battle closer to the ground, which will—

The Azure Dragon catches up before I reach the mountain and lands a pair of crisscrossed strikes on the Yellow Dragon’s head. Pain singes into me. I reflexively grasp my spirit form’s head in the yīn-yáng realm.

In a wild rush of color, the Azure Dragon vaults off the Yellow Dragon’s snout—too fast for me to sap any qì—and flips in the air. Its four swords blaze red with Liu Che’s Fire qì, extra destructive as it channels through Wood-type spirit metal. Too late, I remember Wood has a type advantage against Earth.

Briefly upside down, the Azure Dragon delivers another two slashes near its previous cuts. I double over in the yīn-yáng realm from the scalp-tearing sting. The Yellow Dragon crash-lands in a messy heap over Mount Ziwei, narrowly avoiding the White Tiger and the other Chrysalises we brought. The ones who can do ranged attacks blast their qì at the Azure Dragon, but it dodges with swift jerks of its skeletal body and comes for me again.

The absurd possibility that I might lose by having a Chrysalis that’s too big quivers at my core.

No. No way.

I can’t. We can’t.

“Qin Zheng, tell them to stand down! They’ll listen if it’s your voice!” I cry in the yīn-yáng realm. No matter how much I don’t want to surrender my hold on the Yellow Dragon, it’s slipping from me. I’m too worn out.

Qin Zheng’s spirit form remains still, eyes closed. In my increasingly hazy view through the Yellow Dragon’s eyes, the White Tiger leaps while swinging its dagger-ax but misses the Azure Dragon.

“Qin Zheng!” I shake his spirit form. “Do something! They’ll kill you, too!”

He makes no move. But he has to be conscious, or he wouldn’t be in the yīn-yáng realm with me.

Don’t make me beg , I scream in a deeper level of my mind.

Though…is that exactly what he wants?

I contemplate forcing his hand by just letting go of the Yellow Dragon, but I have a feeling I won’t be able to stop from dropping all the way to unconsciousness if I relaxed like that. I can’t risk it. I have to stay awake.

There’s no more room for pride.

My hands slacken on his shoulders and slide down to his chest. “Qin Zheng, help me. Please.”

His eyes flash open. He pinches my chin and lifts it.

“Remember this lesson, little girl.”

The Yellow Dragon’s gargantuan weight lifts from my mind. Before I can collapse in relief, my perception of the real world shifts entirely. I panic at first, thinking Qin Zheng threw me out of the cockpit—except I’m still with him in the yīn-yáng realm. Yet nothing else is the same. Everything, from the trees to the rubble to the battling Chrysalises, got larger in an instant. My passive awareness of the Yellow Dragon perceives an utterly different shape, no longer long and serpentine but humanoid .

With no more control over it, I can only piece together what happened by what passes through its point of view. Golden arms glimmering under the full moon, patterned with small squares like Qin Zheng’s spirit armor. Flapping flashes of massive wings that rival the Azure Dragon’s.

The Azure Dragon now looks equal in size, yet it’s screaming incoherently and diving away from us. When we twist in the air in pursuit of it, I glimpse the scene back on the mountain.

Finally, what Qin Zheng did sinks in. In less than a second, he separated a smaller, humanoid subunit out of the Yellow Dragon. The rest of it slumps on Mount Ziwei like a husk, its head hollowed out. Bewildered looks from the other Chrysalises swing between it and us.

My view of the others reels away when Qin Zheng takes the Azure Dragon spiraling through the night, locking the subunit’s arms around it. Stars and city lights blend into a dizzying vortex. Distantly, many screams rise from the masses.

With a harsh wrench to the side, Qin Zheng avoids the residential blocks and lands in Unification Plaza, destroying the statue of himself. Every billboard and window shatters on the skyscrapers nearby, drawing another wave of screams. The Plaza plunges into a darkness it likely hasn’t seen in years.

“You dare raise your blade against your emperor?” he roars through the subunit’s mouth, pinning down the Azure Dragon. “Open your cockpit!”

Its forehead pops open, revealing Liu Che and Wei Zifu, faces blanched under pure moonlight. I don’t think they’re aware we’ve been commanded not to kill them or damage their Chrysalis beyond salvaging.

“How did you do this?” I ask Qin Zheng in the yīn-yáng realm. I don’t even know what to call this subunit. My mind stutters at the idea that a higher transformation of a Chrysalis could be smaller . Not to mention the instantaneous way he produced it.

Qin Zheng’s eyes narrow. “It seems there is much they no longer teach pilots.”

“No, they—We—You can reconnect this with the rest of the Dragon, right?”

“Obviously. It operates by the same principle as spirit armor.”

But spirit armor is pre-made. This subunit didn’t exist within the Yellow Dragon before he conjured it into existence. Whether a detached part can reconnect to a Chrysalis depends a lot on how clean the break is. This subunit doesn’t match the hole in the Yellow Dragon’s head at all.

I’m about to ask more jumbled questions when a cold realization hits me: if launching this subunit was an option all along, I didn’t need to crush my family along with the Palace of Sages. I could’ve scooped them out of the way before destroying everything else with more strategic and controlled damage.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was possible?” I grab Qin Zheng in the yīn-yáng realm. “Before I crushed the Palace, you must’ve felt how conflicted I was—why didn’t you stop me ?”

His gaze roves over me. “Because I wished to see if you would do it.” The corners of his mouth curl ever so slightly upward. “I wished to see what lengths you would go to for power.”

I know I’m too exhausted to think clearly. I know I’m not in my right mind. I know it’s unfair to pin any responsibility on him when I made the choice. Yet, with a broken scream, I punch his spirit form in the face. He falls backwards. I clamber over him and go for another blow, then another, then another.

In the middle of my fifth swing, he yanks my arm away and clamps my spirit form against his.

“That’s enough.” His fingers dig like claws into my back.

Before I can make a noise, he tears my spine out.