Third Person [POV]
The Grand Imperial Plaza didn't just devolve into chaos; it completely shattered into a high-realm, multi-faction war zone.
The exact millisecond the forbidden golden arrow struck its completely unintended target, the fragile illusion of peace within the Yang Empire violently evaporated. Thousands of common citizens and lower-tier noblemen let out a collective, ear-shattering shriek, abandoning all semblance of high-society decorum as they trampled over expensive silk robes and decorative banquet tables in a frantic, desperate bid to save their own skin.
"Protect the Sovereigns! Establish a defensive perimeter!" the remaining elite palace guards roared, drawing their spiritually infused broadswords and forming a multi-layered human shield around the high imperial throne.
Every single powerful cultivator in attendance immediately activated their primary combat arrays.
The air grew thick, heavy, and suffocating with the sudden clashing of high-realm qi. Foreign dignitaries and visiting Kings from rival empires—who had apparently only attended this coronation to see if the snacks were good—suddenly decided this was the perfect statistical opportunity to launch their own localized killing sprees, slaughtering anyone within arm's reach to destabilize the kingdom.
Yet, amidst the deafening roar of clashing steel, exploding spiritual techniques, and flying heads, the Crown Prince remained completely stationary.
He didn't look at the invading armies.
He didn't look at the foreign Kings. His entire universe had suddenly shrunk down to the exact coordinate of the beautiful, deeply eccentric young man currently lying face-up on the cold, blood-stained marble stage.
A sharp, agonizing physical pain vibrated deep within the Crown Prince's own chest—a bizarre, empathetic resonance brought on by the sight of Xiu Liang pinned to the ground by a weapon of absolute taboo.
He watched the scene play out in agonizing, high-resolution slow motion.
Moving like a man possessed, the Crown Prince took a slow, deliberate step forward, completely deaf to the war raging around him.
He kneeled directly into the pooling crimson, his immaculate cerulean robes soaking in the stains of battle.
Without a single moment of hesitation, he wrapped his hands around the shaft of the forbidden Golden Arrow.
Now, according to the literal physics of the Yang Empire, a tracking arrow coated in an ancient life-sucking curse is supposed to be structurally impossible to remove until the victim is completely reduced to a desiccated husk.
Yet, driven by a sudden, terrifying surge of raw, unadulterated imperial qi, the Crown Prince pulled.
With a sickening, wet slide, he successfully ripped the golden weapon completely out of Xiu Liang's chest.
He didn't understand the mechanical logic of how he had achieved such a feat.
He didn't understand why, despite being hit by a soul-draining weapon, Xiu Liang's face still looked completely flawless, aesthetic, and beautiful as ever—as if he were merely taking a slightly aggressive corporate nap after working a double shift. But the Crown Prince couldn't care less about cultivation logic.
"Wake up," he whispered, his voice dangerously low, his fingers gently brushing against Xiu Liang's pale cheek.
"Open your eyes. Look at me."
But to no avail. The long, thick eyelashes remained completely still. The chest did not rise.
A heavy, suffocating wave of pure, dark celestial energy began to violently emanate from the Crown Prince's silhouette, completely blocking out the sunlight.
A profound, absolute truth suddenly cemented itself within his core:
*This person. This strange, beautiful, self-sacrificing creature who had literally cheated death and space just to take a lethal arrow for him... was his destined soulmate.*
He loved him. It wasn't a question; it was an absolute, immutable law of the universe.
And right on the heels of that love came a wave of pure, unadulterated, catastrophic rage.
The Crown Prince slowly stood up, the pulled arrow snapping in half within his bare hands. His eyes blazed with a terrifying, crimson killing intent that caused the temperature of the entire stage to drop below freezing.
His gaze locked instantly onto the far side of the plaza, where Great General Tang was currently carving his way through the imperial ranks like a madman.
"Tang. Gong. Fai," the Crown Prince hissed, his voice echoing across the battlefield like a literal death knell as he unsheathed his main imperial blade and launched himself directly toward the traitorous patriarch.
Great General Tang, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just officially signed his family's multi-generational death warrant, was currently thoroughly enjoying his own treason.
He was executing loyalist soldiers left and right, making his bloody way toward the throne with an arrogant, triumphant sneer.
The remaining court officials and palace guards watched the General's actions in absolute, horrified shock. He wasn't just fighting the royal family; he was actively slaughtering his own kin, his countryman, and anyone who dared to voice a single syllable of opposition.
It didn't take a high-realm strategist to finally realize the grim reality: The Great General was, in fact, the Greatest Traitor in the entire history of the Yang Empire.
Meanwhile, Lady Jiao Shu—who was still desperately trying to navigate the chaotic battlefield to get close to the Crown Prince and secure her future Empress title—suddenly found her path completely blocked.
Out of the shifting shadows of the plaza, the four elite shadow assassins originally deployed by the eldest son, Tang Gong Rong, materialized directly around her.
"Target secured! Bring the lady to the young master's transport!" Assassin Alpha barked.
Lady Jiao Shu's eyes widened in sheer panic. While she possessed a decent amount of cultivation, she was primarily a high-society socialite, completely untrained in the brutal logistics of a sudden ambush.
Before she could even channel her spiritual energy to defend herself, a highly potent, high-realm paralyzing drug was forcefully blown into her face.
Her vision instantly blurred, her muscles lost all structural integrity, and she fell completely asleep right into the arms of the enemy shadows, completely failing her heroic fiancé-saving objective.
On the other side of the courtyard, however, the concept of mercy had been completely eradicated.
Xiaofan was moving through the enemy ranks like a literal, high-velocity corporate shredder.
The sight of her beloved gege falling on the high stage had completely snapped the final threads of her sanity.
Her face was an absolute, expressionless mask of stone, her eyes completely vacant as she unleashed the absolute pinnacle of her hidden assassin training.
She didn't fight like a human being; she fought like a perfectly programmed killing machine.
*Swish. Slay. Repeat.*
With every single fluid, ruthless sway of her dual daggers, two to three enemy heads went flying into the air like overripe watermelons.
Within minutes, her pristine dress and her pale face were completely painted in thick, spraying crimson. She didn't blink.
She didn't breathe. Her entire existence had been reduced to a single, mathematical equation:
*The enemy must die to pay for gege's blood.*
Life or death, survival or liquidation—she simply didn't care anymore.
Up on the primary throne, the stress of the entire geopolitical disaster finally reached its breaking point.
The old Emperor, whose drained meridians were already running on a critical 1% battery, let out a harsh, bloody cough.
His life force officially hit absolute zero, and his eyes rolled back as his body collapsed limply against the golden armrest.
The Great Sovereign had died just like that—taken out entirely by a sudden, stress-induced system crash.
The surrounding imperial guards let out a collective wail, catching the old Emperor's body before it could unceremoniously hit the floor.
However, right before his consciousness had completely faded, the old man had utilized the last remaining spark of his energy to scribble a series of highly classified, emergency imperial decrees onto a piece of spiritual parchment, shoving it directly into the wide sleeve of the Head Eunuch—his most trusted, tight-lipped corporate confidant.
=====°°°°°
Xiu Liang [POV]
*"Am I... am I actually dead?"*
I opened my eyes, expecting to feel the excruciating, chest-shattering agony of a forbidden tracking arrow violently drinking my internal organs.
Instead, I found myself sitting comfortably in a highly ergonomic, modern leather office chair, floating inside a vast, blindingly white digital dimension that looked exactly like a top-tier Silicon Valley corporate breakroom.
There was a water cooler in the corner, a giant flatscreen television displaying a live, 4K surveillance feed of the outer empire collapsing into a bloody war zone, and a massive mahogany desk.
Sitting across from me was a floating, glowing neon-blue digital cube that was currently rendering a tiny, pixelated face wearing an HR-approved business suit.
*"System,"* I muttered, casually rubbing my chest to confirm that there was, in fact, no giant hole through my lungs.
*"What exactly is the current status of my physical vessel? Am I currently undergoing formal soul liquidation, or is this just a standard, system-level temporary suspension?"*
System 888 let out a long, highly dramatic digital sigh, its electronic interface emitting a series of exhausted beeps.
*"Ding! Welcome to the System Breakroom, Host! To answer your query: Your physical vessel is currently in a state of high-realm induced clinical comatose. You are not technically dead, but your current medical chart is looking extremely red-flagged. However, because you successfully executed a high-stakes, plot-armor shielding maneuver for the male lead, the core mainframe has officially granted you a temporary, premium pain-reception bypass!"*
I leaned back in the leather chair, crossed my legs, and stared at the surveillance feed on the screen, watching the Crown Prince absolutely obliterate a squad of Tang family soldiers with a single, rage-filled swing of his sword.
*"System... let's be entirely real for a second,"* I said, my tone dropping into a deeply suspicious, analytical corporate growl.
*"Are you absolutely sure that I am not actually the ultimate target of this entire universe's misfortune? Because looking at that screen... things are escalating at a speed that completely violates the basic parameters of a standard background survival mission."*
*"Host, please give your system a single ounce of corporate credit!"* the cube chirped, sending a small flurry of thumbs-up emojis into the white void.
*"You did a fantastic job! Your acting skills were a solid 10 out of 10! The Crown Prince's psychological tracking metrics have officially broken through the upper limits! He is currently 100% convinced that you are his tragic, fallen true love! The plot is progressing beautifully!"*
I gritted my teeth, pointing a stern finger directly at the floating calculator.
*"Listen to me carefully, you little toaster. I took that arrow because you told me the novel would get axed if the male lead died! But if I wake up back in that physical body and my meridians feel like they've been run over by a multi-generational transport carriage, I am going to personally file a formal workplace harassment lawsuit against your entire software developer team! Now tell me the truth..."*
I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing as a sudden, terrifying realization flashed through my modern brain regarding the true identity of my current character vessel.
*"System... are you absolutely certain that I am not—"*