"Great Marshal!"
The shout cut through the cold air like a blade.
Left Leopard strode forward, mud still clinging to his boots, a long wooden box cradled in his arms. His eyes burned with excitement—too bright for a battlefield that still smelled of ash and blood.
"The Great Virtuous Teacher spoke true," he said, voice trembling. "There was treasure in the palace well."
Zhang Xin turned.
His gaze fell upon the box.
Long. Narrow.
Wrong.
"This… came from the well?" he asked, his tone already cooling.
"Yes," Left Leopard nodded eagerly. "Recovered from the depths, just as you commanded."
Zhang Xin stepped closer, suspicion flickering beneath his calm.
The Imperial Seal had a presence. A weight. Even unseen, it pressed upon the mind.
This box… felt empty.
"Open it."
The lid creaked.
Inside—
Iron.
A blade, rusted and dull, lay quietly within.
Zhang Xin stared.
"…This is your treasure?"
Disappointment settled like frost.
Left Leopard quickly spoke, almost defensively.
"Great Marshal, this sword endured years beneath water and yet barely rusted. Such resilience—this is no ordinary weapon!"
Zhang Xin said nothing for a moment.
Then shook his head.
"The treasure I seek… is not this."
"Search again," he ordered flatly.
The sword might be valuable.
But it was not that.
Not the thing that could command the world.
Left Leopard hesitated.
Then, almost as an afterthought, he reached into his robes and pulled out a piece of jade.
"Then… could it be this?"
Zhang Xin's breath stopped.
The world narrowed.
The battlefield, the soldiers, the smoke—
—all faded.
Only the object remained.
Round above.
Square below.
Dragons coiled in silent authority.
A corner mended with gold, like a wound that refused to heal.
His hand moved before his mind did.
He seized it.
Turned it.
And saw the characters carved beneath:
"Received by Heaven, may it live long and prosper."
For a moment—
he said nothing.
But something inside him shifted.
Something ancient.
Cold.
Inevitable.
"This…" Zhang Xin's voice was low, almost reverent. "This is the Imperial Seal."
Left Leopard blinked.
"This stone?"
Zhang Xin laughed once—short, sharp.
"Stone?"
He raised it slightly.
"This is the mandate of Heaven, cast into form."
He spoke then—not as a general, but as a man standing at the edge of history.
Of Qin Shi Huang, who unified the world and carved this seal from the legendary He Shi Bi.
Of Liu Bang, who received it when Qin fell, and with it, the right to rule.
Of Wang Mang, who could not crown himself until this very seal lay in his hands.
Each name—
Each dynasty—
Bound to this single object.
Not because jade held power.
But because men believed it did.
"Legitimacy," Zhang Xin said quietly, "is not born. It is recognized."
He turned the seal in his hand, eyes reflecting its pale light.
"For centuries… the world has agreed that this decides who is emperor."
Left Leopard scratched his head, still struggling.
"One thing… decides all that?"
Zhang Xin did not answer directly.
Instead, he told the story.
Of Bian He, who found the jade and lost both legs for it.
Of kings who mistook treasure for stone.
Of loyalty mistaken for deceit.
Of truth buried beneath ignorance—until blood forced it into the light.
When he finished, silence hung heavy.
Left Leopard looked at the seal again.
This time… with fear.
Zhang Xin stood still, the jade resting in his palm.
For a moment, he allowed himself to feel it.
The weight.
Not of stone—
—but of expectation.
Then his gaze shifted.
Back to the box.
Back to the blade.
Something about it… stirred memory.
He picked it up.
Despite the rust, the metal felt cold. Steady.
Unyielding.
At its base, faint characters remained.
He narrowed his eyes.
Read them.
"Zhongxing…"
Revival.
Restoration.
Zhang Xin inhaled slowly.
"This… is no ordinary sword."
Left Leopard leaned forward.
"What is it?"
Zhang Xin's voice hardened.
"An Emperor's Sword."
Silence.
Then—
Left Leopard dropped to his knees.
The movement was sudden. Absolute.
His voice trembled—not with doubt, but certainty.
"Today, Great Marshal has obtained the Imperial Seal… and the Emperor's Sword…"
His head lowered deeply.
"—this is Heaven's will."
The wind howled faintly beyond the ruined palace.
Ash drifted like snow.
An empire, broken and bleeding, waited for its next master.
"Congratulations, Great Marshal."
Left Leopard's voice echoed against the stone.
"You can be crowned emperor."
Zhang Xin did not answer.
He stood there—
Seal in one hand.
Sword in the other.
Between Heaven…
…and the world.