Inside the grand throne hall, silence hung heavy as the emperor sat upon his throne, fingers pressed to his temples. His eyes were closed, brow furrowed in clear frustration as the murmurs of counsel echoed faintly through the golden chamber.
The royal priest stood respectfully at a distance, hands clasped, voice low and measured.
"The first bloom occurred without any casualties… and the second seems to be following the same course. But Your Majesty—we are not gathered here to report peace. There is a problem."
He paused, glancing at the others before continuing.
"Since the Crown Prince's spiritual energy is sealed at present… don't you think there's a possibility that the—"
He never finished.
The emperor's eyes snapped open, sharp as a blade's edge. His gaze alone silenced the chamber.
Without a word, he rose from the throne, each step deliberate as he descended the marble staircase. The long crimson cloak trailing behind him whispered across the polished steps like falling silk.
"There won't be any 'chance,'" the emperor declared, his voice echoing powerfully in the chamber.
"Because it is not the Crown Prince's spiritual energy that guards the seal." He stopped at the final step, his voice growing colder.
"It is the Crown Prince himself."
The priest lowered his gaze, lips pressed into a thin line, as the air in the hall seemed to still completely heavy with the weight of something unspoken.
A young man stepped forward hesitantly, his dark robe edged with the golden embroidery of the imperial court. He raised his hand respectfully, his head slightly bowed. The emperor's sharp eyes flicked to him.
"…Speak, Master Zheng," the emperor said curtly, with a motion of his hand.
Young Master Zheng bowed deeply. "Your Majesty… since the first bloom this year, there have been increasing reports of heightened demon activity near the outer gates. Several lesser demons have managed to escape through the cracks, and it's been observed that those cracks… are widening. If this continues, there is a high likelihood that demons above Tier 8 will breach into our world."
He paused carefully. "And that will be… extremely difficult to contain, especially considering—"
"Considering what?" the emperor cut in, voice thunderous. He stepped forward once more, eyes blazing.
"That we lack hunters with sufficient spiritual energy to fight a demon above Tier 8? Is that what you mean to say, Young Master Zheng? Are you trying to tell me that the sect is producing nothing but cowards and weaklings who cannot kill a single filthy demon?"
Zheng flinched slightly but kept his composure, bowing again. "My deepest apologies, Your Majesty. I didn't mean it that way. It's just that… with the limited number of cultivators reaching the fifth rank, and most having unstable or insufficient spiritual energy….we're finding it difficult to train capable hunters. To reach the highest rank, one must possess exceptional spiritual depth. And currently… we have no such candidates in the recent years."
The emperor's jaw tightened. "So what you're saying," he said coldly, "is that the entrance exams, the training, the bloodlines we've trusted all of it is meaningless because you couldn't find anyone with potential?"
Zheng's gaze dropped to the floor. "It's not that we haven't tried. But there is one individual among us, as of now, who shows the potential to reach the highest divine rank.…"
He hesitated.
"…The Crown Prince."
The hall fell dead silent.
Then the emperor's voice rang out, fierce and unrelenting.
"The Crown Prince is of no use!" he roared, slamming his fist against the golden railing beside the stairs. "Even if he reached the highest rank, he would still be incapable of killing that demon!"
Gasps and shuffling echoed around the chamber as courtiers and priests exchanged glances.
Zheng's eyes widened slightly, but he kept his voice low. "…Your Majesty…"
"I said enough." The emperor's voice lowered, but the fury remained. "He was born for this and still he failed when it mattered most. Potential is meaningless when the heart is weak." He turned away, his cloak sweeping behind him.
Young Master Zheng bowed low and quickly retreated into the silent crowd, careful not to meet the emperor's burning gaze.
The emperor exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. His voice, though quieter, was no less commanding.
"There must be someone else… someone worthy to replace the Crown Prince."
A thought struck him. He turned abruptly, eyes locked on Zheng once again.
"What about the others?" he demanded. "The rest of the princes and princesses. Is there no one among them with the royal bloodline that possesses such strength?"
Zheng hesitated, choosing his words with care. "None among them come close to His Highness in spiritual force or combat instinct… but—" he paused, "there was one who gave him a tough battle during the last internal trials. Someone not of the royal line."
The emperor's brow arched, eyes narrowing. "Who?"
Zheng straightened, his voice resolute.
"Daiyuri."
The emperor blinked at the name, memory stirring. "Isn't she the Seventh Prince's elder sister?"
Zheng nodded. "Yes. After the Seventh Prince was adopted by your brother, Daiyuri was taken in by the Yunhai Clan the very one that resides in the northern highlands."
The emperor's expression darkened. "The Yunhai… Isn't that the third-strongest clan now after second Baihu clan?"
"Indeed, Your Majesty," Zheng confirmed. "Their strength has grown considerably in recent years. And Daiyuri… her rise has been swift. It's not surprising. That someone trained from Yunhai clan, could give His Highness such a battle."
The emperor remained silent for a moment, his fingers twitching against the fabric of his sleeves as he processed the information. Zheng, sensing the weight of the moment, continued carefully.
"She entered the sect at the same time as her brother and His Highness, six years ago. Remarkably, all three of them earned the title of disciples under Ginkgo-Mira, a feat not easily achieved by anyone."
"Then why has no one informed me of this before?"
The officials exchanged tense glances, but it was Zheng who stepped forward, bowing again.
"It was not deliberate, Your Majesty. With her position outside the royal lineage and her clan's recent summons, it may have been overlooked."
The emperor's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing for a moment. Then he spoke coolly.
"I want to see this Daiyuri for myself."
Zheng hesitated, then offered a respectful nod. "My apologies, Your Majesty. She's returned to the Yunhai Clan they're currently handling a series of demon disturbances in the northern highlands. But she's sent word… she will return before the final bloom."
The emperor paused, weighing that, then gave a short nod. "Very well. Then let's wait for her return," he said, his tone sharpening into curiosity. "I'm eager to see the one who managed to fight him."
Then, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Now disperse. I have something else to attend to."
The officials bowed low. The hall fell into stillness as one by one, they filed out in complete silence.
—————
Soft light filtered through the tall windows, casting golden patterns across the floor. The room was still.
The Crown Prince sat silently before an ornate mirror, his back straight but his presence withdrawn. Slowly, his hand rose, fingers grazing the edge of the golden mask on his face.
With a careful motion, he lifted it away.
His eyes remained closed for a moment, as if bracing himself. Then, slowly, they opened adjusting to the soft light that bathed his reflection.
He blinked once. Twice.
His gaze locked onto the mirror.
As though seeing himself for the first time in years, his fingers reached out to touch the reflection. They hovered near his face, trembling faintly before pressing against his cheek.
His eyes flickered with uncertainty.
Then a voice, delicate and bright, echoed through his mind.
.…Your eyes are so beautiful…..
His breath caught, A faint smile touched his lips And for the first time in days, his expression softened.
The Prince stared at his reflection, eyes lingering on his own gaze sharp, but tired… regal, yet fragile beneath the weight they carried. He slowly reached up, brushing his fingers beneath them. Then his eyes drifted down the golden mask resting in his hands. Its surface bore elegant, carved designs and delicate curves polished. Gleaming. Beautiful… and suffocating.
A quiet sigh escaped his lips, soft as falling ash. But the moment of stillness shattered His expression shifted in an instant the softness in his gaze vanishing like a shadow under sunlight.
Footsteps.
He heard footsteps which were quick, heavy and drawing closer with every breath.
THUD!
The doors behind him burst open without a moment's pause and The prince shut his eyes instantly, as if by instinct.
The emperor stood at the threshold for a moment, as if caught in a rare hesitation. For a single breath, he remained still watching in silence.Then, with slow, deliberate steps, he crossed the chamber's edge. Each footfall echoed faintly against the polished floor, the air shifting with the weight of his presence.
The prince did not move. His posture remained composed, his back straight, but he never turned. The emperor's gaze, however, didn't waver. It drifted past him, settling on the reflection in the mirror.
The emperor halted just behind him.
In the mirror, their reflections stood side by side…one with eyes closed, the other with a gaze like fire. Yet for that breathless moment, they looked almost indistinguishable, the resemblance was uncanny. Their features aligned almost perfectly. The curve of their brows, the sharp line of their noses, the same strong jawline, the same quiet weight in their expression.
It was as if the emperor was staring not at his son's, but at his own reflection for a moment. A breath passed. Then another.
Neither spoke. The room, vast as it was, felt impossibly still. Not even the wind dared stir.
Then the silence shattered.
"…Your Majesty," the prince said quietly, eyes still shut. "What brings you here? You could've simply summoned me—"
"Were you looking at yourself in the mirror just now?" the emperor interrupted, voice cold and direct.
The prince's brows twitched. He gave a small nod.
The emperor scoffed, eyes narrowing. "After all these years… Why now? Curious to see if the rumors were true? Were you hoping to finally know whether you really resemble me?"
"It's not what you think," the prince replied evenly, but there was a faint tension in his voice.
"No?" The emperor took a step closer, his tone hardening. "Then what was it? A fleeting vanity? Or perhaps—" he paused, lips curling in disdain, "you wanted to see for yourself that those cursed eyes of yours haven't turned you to ashes yet?"
The prince's fingers curled slightly at his side, but he said nothing.
The emperor's voice grew sharper, cutting. "Do you think just because the mirror doesn't burn you, the world won't either? What use is there in looking at yourself when the very power in your veins makes even the heavens tremble?"