At the base of the mountain, I dismounted Hui and sat on a boulder, catching my breath.
Apparently, my genius imagination decided this mountain needed to be steep.
Nearly impossible to climb with a load of gear and regular human legs. Nice going, past me.
I glanced at my horse ..Hui. I'd named him that on a whim.
Why? He was fast, had dark gray skin, and cloudy white eyes that made him look blind. But he wasn't. He just looked dramatic. I liked that. I might keep him.
After a short rest, I got back on my feet and followed the narrowing stone path up.
Gravel shifted under my boots, and the trees thinned into crooked bushes as the climb steepened.
The old carved steps had long been worn into uneven ridges, wind or time or whatever hated symmetrical footing.
My legs burned. Hui was struggling too, so I told him to take the clear road up and wait for me at the top. Smart.
Halfway up, I veered off the path, cutting across a slope of red earth and moss.
Thin, dark red, looked like bog moss, maybe. I just didn't pay attention enough to identify them.
I just wanted a shortcut. I crouched low, my hands brushed roots and dirt until I reached a small platform.
There, I kicked off my boots.
I hadn't tested the Avens abilities yet. I mean, how hard could it be? You just believe you can fly, right?
Wrong.
Flying wasn't about belief. It was math.
Okay, fine, complex math with variables like wind resistance, body posture, momentum, mass distribution… anyway.
Point is, I didn't have time to theorize.
So I leapt.
A grunt left my throat as I threw myself upward, grabbed a rocky outcrop, pulled hard, then jumped again.
Repeat. Again. And again.
Five minutes of that, and I barely made it.
When I reached the edge of the peak, the wind caught me and knocked me off balance.
I tripped and slammed onto a lower platform, about my height away from the top.
I lay there, wheezing.
Somewhere below, Hui's hooves echoed along the road. He was catching up. Good boy.
I dragged myself up to the peak, shoved my boots back on, and stood just in time for the fog to pull back.
Cold sunlight spilled across the cliffs. Ahead of me, a gate emerged from the mist.
It was tall, lacquered black wood with gold trim and red tassels that fluttered gently.
Carved into the lintel were three characters: Lian Wang Fu.
The moment I saw it, I stopped, I looked around.
The terrace curved out like a fan, stone tiles wet with dew.
I could see the rooftops rising behind the gate, tall and serene, framed by weeping pines and hanging lanterns.
The scent of pine needles and faint incense drifted through the air.
The architecture....angled roofs, pale cream walls, latticework so fine it could have been drawn by brush.
It was as exactly how I'd imagined it.
It was perfect.
So perfect it almost moved me to tears.
I exhaled slowly.
A soft tapping sound suddenly came from the right.
I turned and saw two men waiting near the gate.
One stood tall, arms tucked neatly into his sleeves.
His robe was pale ivory with subtle gold embroidery and a dark purple underlayer. Not too flashy. Just Perfect.
A belt wrapped around his waist. His hair was long, sleek, and the same deep violet as his inner robes.
It was pinned with a golden ornament that shimmered under the light.
His skin was so pale it looked like porcelain. His eyes, when they landed on me, were bright but cold.
Like judgment given form.
For a moment, I felt pride.
Then pressure.
"So this is what they meant by trembling before the lords," I muttered, accidentally out loud. Quickly, I raised a hand to cover my mouth and bowed.
I didn't need to be told who he was.
Huang Renjun. Third son of the Emperor.
Beautifully made. By me.
And I'd have to respect him... at least until I finished killing them all.
The other man standing beside him looked older but not old.
Late twenties, maybe. The kind of age where you've seen enough to forget half of it.
He wore a dark blue hanfu, .o ornaments, no fanfare.
His long blue-black hair was tied back with a plain cloth cord, secured by a golden pin similar to the prince's.
He looked more like a quiet scholar than a soldier.
But the way he watched me, told me he didn't miss anything.
They didn't speak right away. That was fine. I didn't mind silence. It gave me time to adjust.
I straightened my collar, brushed the dust from my sleeves, and waited.
The prince's eyes drifted down, first to my boots, then to my hands, then finally rested on my face.
I kept my expression neutral. Not too stiff. Not too loose.
Just enough to avoid giving off a vibe that might get me killed before I even got a glimpse of all my creations in action.
"Not in uniform," the blue-robed man finally said. His voice was clear, well-tempered, polite. Not warm, cold on a good level.
Perfect.
"Not assigned a formal one," I replied. "I came straight from recovery."
He nodded once, eyes trailing up to my hair, still tangled slightly from the wind, long and dark.
"You kept it," he noted. "I thought Northern Avens cut theirs short after admission."
I offered a small smile. "That was a wig. Formal training. Real hair makes flying look more elegant."
"You prioritize form, and not the rules?" He asked, frowning ever so slightly, but I nodded anyway.
"Avens take flying like dancing, it's a culture, Avens who cut their hair are either born outside our home land, or raised with non Avens."
I smiled warmly, "Besides, If you saw Avens with short hair in the sky, it would look boring to watch, No?"
His brow lifted slightly, like he hadn't expected me to answer so directly.
The prince, however, remained silent. His gold eyes never wavered, still studying me like he was watching something happen beneath the skin.
After a moment, the man stepped forward, only a fraction.
"May I ask," he said, his tone shifting just slightly, "your eyes. Avens usually have red or green. Yours are silver….." he paused, tilting his head to view from another angle, "...and black."
I didn't blink.
"My mother was part human. A mage," I said. "She had black eyes. My father's were red. I got a little of both."
Neither of them replied.
Right then, Hui clambered onto the terrace behind me with a loud snort, his hooves clicking against the stone.
He gave an annoyed toss of his head and wandered to the side, snubbing me like he'd done all the work and I was just dead weight.
Honestly? Fair.
The prince's gaze flicked toward the horse for the briefest second, then returned to me.
"I see," he said, his voice smooth.
There was something oddly respectful about the way he said it. "Your appearance isn't what I expected."
"Apologies," I said, just barely raising a brow. "Should I have worn something brighter?"
That earned the ghost of a smile from the man beside him, an advisor, I assumed.
The kind who didn't laugh but appreciated irony.
The prince said nothing. Still as a statue.
But the air around him shifted slightly, heavier now, like he was taking notes of everything I did; every breath, blink, heartbeat.
The advisor reached into his sleeve and produced a small jade tile.
It was engraved with characters and strung with a thin seal-scroll. He unrolled a scroll from his robes and matched the tile against it.
A soft glow lit between them, displaying the characters, 'Verified'.
"You're Han Xueling," he said.
"Yes."
He turned the tile once in his fingers before slipping it back into his sleeve.
"South Wing. Room three. Report at sunrise for assignment review."
"Understood."
He stepped aside the moment I replied.
The prince, however, didn't move. Still stood at the center of the gate, unmoving, eyes locked on me.
I lowered my gaze slightly and bowed. Enough to show respect, not enough to look like I was faking it.
The silence between us stretched longer than expected.
It made me wonder how he'd act if he knew who was standing before him.
Not just Han Xueling.
But the one who wrote every breath he took, his entire existence infact.