The Night Before Her Trial
Li Xueyan had once stood proudly in the Moonlight Tower, watching snow fall over the golden city. The world had seemed still. Peaceful. But her spirit had been in turmoil.
That night, General Han Rui, her second-in-command and most trusted brother-in-arms, had sneaked into the palace.
"You need to leave. Now," he said. His voice was tight, eyes filled with urgency.
Xueyan shook her head. "If I run, I admit guilt."
"They're already preparing your verdict," Han Rui hissed. "They forged letters. You've been framed."
"By who?"
Han Rui hesitated.
"…The Empress. And Minister Lu."
Her grip tightened on the stone railing. "And the Emperor?"
Han Rui didn't speak.
Silence was louder than any answer.
That was the night she truly died.
Not when the exile was declared.
Not when the guards stripped her of armor and rank.
But in that moment—when she realized the man she had loved had known, and done nothing.
🩸 Present — Back in the Snow
The air crackled.
The snow beneath her body began to glow.
Symbols—ancient and feminine—etched themselves around her form, a massive yin sigil pulsing with violet light. Her blood soaked into the snow and became ink, spreading across the ground like an offering.
Her chest heaved. Her breath returned—not weak, but hot like steam in the winter air.
"You should be dead," a voice whispered from nowhere, "But you are not done."
She tried to move, but the world tilted. Instead, her mind was pulled elsewhere—beneath the veil of her reality.
🌿 Inside Her Inner World — The Realm of Echoes
She opened her eyes.
And stood in a world untouched by man or beast.
A realm made of silence, wind, and memory.
A soft mist hugged the earth. Trees shaped like women's arms twisted upward toward a colorless sky. Stone lanterns floated mid-air, each one flickering with a memory—not of her life, but of others.
"Help me—don't let them take my child—!"
"I burned for him, and he married my cousin—"
"They called me mad when I spoke the truth."
Cries of women long dead echoed from lanterns that bobbed around her like fireflies. Each one glowed with grief, rage, and loss.
A staircase made of bone-white stone led her to a moonlit courtyard, where a massive tree stood. Its branches dripped with crimson blossoms that pulsed like heartbeats.
Beneath the tree sat an altar.
And above it floated a black book—its pages fluttering open, glowing.
Emotion-Devouring Cultivation: Forbidden Scripture of the Forgotten
She stepped closer.
Each page told a story of pain turned into power.
"The woman who swallowed her grief and rose above kings."
"The wife who wept for ten winters, then poisoned her husband's bloodline."
"The daughter who turned abandonment into a weapon of rebirth."
The more she read, the more the words sank into her flesh like fire tattoos. Her veins lit up with symbols. Her fingers trembled.
And then the final line:
To those who have no home, no justice, no name—take this curse, and shape it into your crown.
Suddenly, the shrine cracked open—revealing a hidden pill chamber, stone shelves covered in dust and ancient medicines. Bottles, spiritual stones, and glowing herbs lined the walls. At the far end, a basin carved from obsidian overflowed with spiritual spring water, glowing with gentle blue light.
"Drink," the voice said. "And you will rise."
Xueyan cupped her hands. The water was cold, but not painful. It hummed—like a lullaby she had forgotten.
As it touched her tongue, heat exploded in her chest.
Her body arched. Her bones cracked and realigned. Every old wound burned away—healed by rage, love, and the hopes of every woman who had ever been silenced.
Back in the Frozen Vale — Present
Her body shuddered on the snow. Her fingers curled.
The symbols in the snow vanished, but her eyes opened—no longer human.
They were violet with gold threads, glowing faintly.
She rose slowly. Steam rose from her skin. She looked around—and saw the mountain shift. An avalanche had crushed the path behind her. The guards who had exiled her were buried.
It wasn't luck.
It was retribution.
And she felt no guilt.
She stood at the edge of the world—blood-stained, reborn, unnamed.
And she spoke:
"The girl you betrayed is dead. The general you buried is ash."
She turned to the north, where mountains awaited.
"I am Ye Qingran now. Shadow Queen of the Forgotten."
Her voice echoed through the vale like thunder.
''Let the empire learn to fear the women they abandoned."
And with a single step, she vanished into the storm.