Chapter 872 – "The Princess Walks the Sect"
Two days had passed since that quiet, stolen night beside her sleeping mother.
Without Alex's knowledge, Ying Hua had taken it upon herself to wander the Frost Moon Palace grounds. She wore nothing — not a single scrap of cloth — save for the white choker at her throat. Her grey-silver hair streamed freely down her back, shimmering under the sun, framing the flawless body her father had created with his own hands.
Every step she took seemed deliberate, her posture proud, the sway of her hips unhurried. She didn't cover herself, didn't flinch under the stares — instead, she welcomed them, each glance from the onlookers only confirming the perfection she carried.
Wherever she went, whispers followed: awe from women, scandal from a few, but not a word of protest dared to be spoken aloud. This was the Princess, and even in her nakedness, she carried herself with the dignity of someone untouchable.
At the inner training courtyard, she paused, her gaze sweeping over the assembled female disciples.
"Men," she began suddenly, her voice carrying clear and sharp. "I will tell you what they are worth."
The women stopped what they were doing, their attention drawn to her. Ying Hua stood tall, letting the light play over the smooth curves of her body as if to underline her words.
"They are weak. Foolish. Driven by urges they cannot control. They take what they want and destroy what they touch. Most of them… are unworthy to even exist in the same space as my father."
A murmur spread among the women, but she went on, her tone both cold and certain.
"You should know this — the only man worth anything is him. Every other is beneath your notice, beneath your time. My father is not only the strongest… he is the only one who matters."
She let the silence after her words hang, her presence dominating the space as much as her naked form did.
Ying Hua took a slow step forward, her bare feet soundless on the polished stone, her grey-silver hair swaying behind her like a banner. Her eyes swept over the gathered women, each one caught between staring at her beauty and listening to her words.
"In my mind," she said, her tone calm but sharp enough to cut, "men are worth nothing. Less than nothing."
She let that sink in for a moment, her lips curling into the faintest smirk.
"Even our waste — our poop — is worth more than they are. At least it can nourish the earth. What do other men nourish? Nothing. They only take, corrupt, and poison what they touch."
The crowd stirred uneasily, not in disagreement, but in the weight of the truth she laid before them. Ying Hua's voice never rose; it didn't need to. Every word struck with precision, like a blade to the mind.
"I do not understand why there must be other men in this world. If my father willed it, I would see them all gone. Erased. And the world would be better for it."
Her gaze swept the courtyard again, catching each woman's eyes in turn, forcing them to hold her stare.
"There is only one man worth anything — and he is the one you already serve, or will serve. Every breath you take in his presence is a gift. Every glance from him is a blessing. Every touch from him is a miracle."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the women, some nodding, others whispering to each other with a mix of awe and conviction.
Ying Hua lifted her chin slightly, her voice softening but losing none of its authority.
"When you see other men, remember this: they are beneath you. Beneath us. Beneath him. And if they ever forget their place… remind them."
A slow, reverent silence fell over the courtyard. No one questioned her words. No one dared.
Ying Hua let the silence linger for a few heartbeats longer, the weight of her words settling into the minds of every woman present. Then she took another step forward, her posture regal despite her complete nudity, and softened her tone just enough to shift from command to instruction.
"But listen carefully," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "When you are with my father, keep that reaction in check."
Some of the women tilted their heads, unsure of what she meant.
"Yes — I know the sight of other men disgusts you now. It should. It disgusts me too. But do not overreact in front of him."
She swept her gaze across them, her expression calm but deliberate.
"Father already knows they are worthless. He doesn't need you to gasp, sneer, or scowl every time one of them appears. Your disgust is understood — but in front of him, you must be composed. Controlled. His presence is for devotion, not for petty displays."
Her words landed with quiet force. A few women lowered their heads in acknowledgment, others pressed their lips together, realizing the truth in what she said.
"We serve him best when we are elegant, unshakable, and devoted. Save your contempt for the shadows, where it can be acted upon without disturbing his peace."
She let the last sentence hang in the air, then slowly raised her chin.
"Remember — in his world, we are his pride. Act like it."
A unified murmur of assent swept through the courtyard, the women's postures straightening as if they'd been given a military order.
Ying Hua turned as if to leave the courtyard, her grey-silver hair catching the sunlight, but then she paused. Without shame or hesitation, she crouched gracefully near the edge of the garden beds that lined the training ground.
The gathered women froze, watching as she relieved herself — not in embarrassment, but with the same serene composure she carried in every act. To them, it wasn't vulgar; it was simply her, the daughter of their Master, whose body was perfection itself.
When she stood again, a faint shimmer in the air seemed to stir around the spot. Before their eyes, the soil shifted — and from the place where she had left her waste, a stem began to rise.
Within moments, a flower bloomed. Its petals were pure white with a faint silver sheen, its center holding a glow like the reflection of moonlight on water. The fragrance that drifted from it was delicate yet intoxicating, the kind that seemed to make the air lighter, purer.
Gasps spread through the courtyard.
"Even her waste…" one disciple whispered in awe, "…gives life more beautiful than anything else."
Another bowed her head.
"It's proof — her very being is a blessing from Master."
Ying Hua glanced back at the flower, then at the women, her lips curling faintly.
"Remember what I told you. Even this," she gestured casually to the blossom, "is worth more than any man you'll ever meet — except for my father."
The women nodded, their awe deepening, as if the small miracle had sealed her words into their hearts.
Under the watchful eyes of the gathered women, Ying Hua's expression didn't change in the slightest as she turned and walked toward the far side of the courtyard. The sun caught on her grey-silver hair, making it shine like strands of moonlight against her bare skin.
She stopped beside a patch of wildflowers growing near the stone wall — their colors vivid against the neatly maintained grounds. Without hesitation or self-consciousness, she lowered herself into a squat, her posture relaxed, the white choker at her throat still gleaming.
The women in the courtyard exchanged glances, but no one dared speak. They all knew Ying Hua never acted without reason.
She relieved herself in a slow, unhurried rhythm, the sound mingling with the faint rustle of petals in the breeze. Time seemed to stretch as she remained there, perfectly at ease, as if the act itself were a statement — a reminder that nothing about her could be shamed, that even her waste was a product of her father's perfection.
When she finally rose, the women saw it — the patch of flowers she had chosen was no ordinary garden. On closer inspection, it was an herb field, more than twenty meters across, its soil rich with life. Several women gasped softly as they recognized rare medicinal sprouts hidden among the blooms.
Within minutes of her leaving the spot, the plants where she had relieved herself seemed to stir, their colors brightening, their stems growing just slightly taller. The change was subtle but undeniable.
One of the senior disciples, voice hushed with awe, whispered,
"That's… a priceless cultivation herb bed. And it's thriving from… her?"
Another nodded slowly, her expression caught between reverence and disbelief.
"Even her waste carries his mark… and gives life."
Ying Hua glanced back over her shoulder with the faintest smile, as if she had heard them.
"Everything from me comes from him. Even this."
Ying Hua took a few steps back toward the group, the faint smirk still on her lips as her gaze swept over the gathered women. Without explanation, she stopped in front of one — a younger disciple whose eyes widened under the Princess's direct attention.
Ying Hua tilted her head slightly, her grey-silver hair sliding over one shoulder.
"You," she said simply, pointing.
The woman straightened immediately, unsure whether to bow or speak.
"Poop."
The word was delivered with the same calm authority she used for every command. The chosen woman blinked, her cheeks flushing faintly, but the look in Ying Hua's eyes made it clear — this was not a request.
The courtyard went utterly silent. No one laughed, no one whispered. They all understood by now: Ying Hua's actions always had meaning, even if it wasn't obvious at first.
The disciple hesitated only for a breath before moving toward the edge of the herb field, clearly nervous but determined not to fail whatever test this might be. The others watched with a strange mix of confusion, curiosity, and reverence.
Ying Hua folded her arms under her chest, watching closely, her expression unreadable — as if she were evaluating more than just obedience.
The young disciple moved to the far edge of the herb field, glancing nervously over her shoulder at the watching crowd before finally lowering herself into a squat. The courtyard was silent save for the soft rustle of the flowers and the faint trickle of water from the nearby fountain.
She relieved herself slowly, her cheeks burning under so many eyes, but Ying Hua's gaze never wavered — steady, assessing, almost clinical. The act felt like it stretched on forever before the disciple finally stood, straightening her posture and stepping back toward the group.
At first, there was nothing unusual. Then, one of the women closest to the spot gasped softly.
"Look…!"
All eyes turned. In the very place where the disciple had relieved herself, one of the herbs — a single stalk among the bed — began to shift. Its stem grew a fraction taller, its leaves gaining a richer green, the edges curling outward as if opening to more light.
The air around it seemed subtly charged, the faint aroma of spiritual energy drifting into the breeze.
One of the older disciples whispered, half in awe,
"How is this possible…?"
Ying Hua smiled faintly, stepping forward so her voice carried over them all.
"Because she has had sex with my father… and became 9th level."
The weight of her words settled over the courtyard. For a heartbeat, no one moved — the truth striking them harder than the sight of the growing herb itself. Ying Hua's tone was not boastful, but absolute, as though she were stating a natural law.
"Everything he touches changes," she continued softly. "Even you."
The women glanced between one another, some with awe, others with a new, sharpened hunger in their eyes.
Ying Hua let the moment linger, her grey-silver hair swaying as she turned her gaze from the single transformed herb back to the crowd. Her voice remained calm, but the weight in her tone made every woman straighten instinctively.
"Do you see?" she said, gesturing toward the thriving stalk. "This is the proof. When you have sex with my father, your body changes. Your cultivation rises, yes… but more than that, your body itself becomes pure."
She took a slow step forward, eyes locking with several women in turn.
"Every flaw is washed away. Every impurity burned out. You become stronger, cleaner, more perfect than before. Even your waste carries his blessing — giving life instead of taking it."
A hush fell over the courtyard. Some women looked almost dazed, others clenched their hands in front of them as if trying to hold in the urge to step forward and beg for their turn.
Ying Hua's lips curved slightly, her voice lowering to something almost intimate.
"Their bodies become more pure when they have sex with their father. That is the difference between other men and him. He is not just a man. He is the man. The only one worthy of touching you, of changing you."
A murmur rippled through the crowd — not doubt, but reverence. The disciples looked at her as though she were not just a daughter, but a living prophet of his will.
Ying Hua let the murmurs fade before speaking again, her tone sharpening just enough to cut through the crowd's daze.
"Do you understand now," she asked slowly, her eyes sweeping over every face, "when I said our poop is worth more than a male?"
A few women shifted uncomfortably under her gaze — not because they disagreed, but because the truth of it now felt heavier, undeniable.
She pointed toward the spot where her own waste had caused the entire herb bed to flourish, and then toward the single stalk that had grown from the younger disciple's act.
"You've seen it with your own eyes. From us, life grows. From them?"
She let the question hang for a heartbeat, then her lips curled faintly.
"Nothing. They create nothing. They give nothing. They are nothing."
Her grey-silver hair shimmered as she tilted her head, the sun catching on the white choker at her throat.
"A pile of dirt has more value than a man who is not my father. Even waste from our bodies carries more worth than they could dream of."
The crowd stayed silent, the air tense with a strange mix of awe and conviction. Ying Hua let her gaze pass over them one by one, making sure no one dared look away.
"Remember that," she finished softly, though her voice carried to every corner of the courtyard. "The next time you see one of them, remember — you are worth more in every way. Even in the ways you think don't matter."
Ying Hua's gaze swept the courtyard again, her expression calm but commanding.
"Three more of you. Step forward."
There was no hesitation — three women immediately emerged from the crowd, each moving toward the far edge of the herb field where Ying Hua's own act had proven the land's transformation. They glanced at one another briefly, then obeyed without shame, lowering themselves in different spots among the rare herbs.
The rest of the women watched in silence, eyes fixed on the patches of soil. At first, nothing happened. Then, a ripple of whispers began.
In the center of the field, one of the spots began to stir — the small sprout there splitting into two healthy flower stalks, each blooming with vibrant petals far richer in color than before. The other women's gasps broke the air.
Ying Hua's eyes narrowed slightly, a faint curve touching her lips as she stepped toward the woman responsible.
"Two flowers from one seed," she said, her voice almost approving. "You must have received extra of his semen."
The woman flushed but didn't look away, pride clear in her expression.
"Four hours ago," she admitted, her voice carrying across the courtyard, "I had sex with Master."
A collective murmur spread through the crowd — not of scandal, but of recognition. This was proof, raw and undeniable, of Alex's influence on them.
Ying Hua's tone sharpened slightly, pulling their focus back to her.
"Do you all see now? The more of him you take into you, the more perfect you become. Even here, it shows. This is his blessing — carried in us, shown to the world."
She let the words sink in, the evidence blooming literally at their feet.
The other two women's results soon became visible — one herb grew taller and stronger, the other gained thicker leaves rich with medicinal potency. Each change, though different, stood as undeniable proof of Alex's touch.
Ying Hua stood at the edge of the field, looking over them all with calm, unblinking eyes.
"You understand now," she said, her voice carrying over the courtyard, "why there is no man worth your time but him. Why every other man is beneath us. Beneath you."
Her grey-silver hair shifted in the breeze, the sun catching the white choker at her throat as she lifted her chin slightly.
"From this day forward, you will remember what you've seen. You will honor him with your loyalty, your body, your very being… and you will never again look at another man with anything but disgust."
Without a single word of instruction, the women moved as one — dropping to their knees in perfect unison. The sound of it echoed softly against the courtyard walls. Heads bowed low, their reverence was not only for Alex, but for the woman who stood before them: his daughter, his creation, and now his voice within the sect.
That day, the Frost Moon Palace — already known for its disdain and contempt toward men — felt that disdain sharpen, deepen, and multiply a hundredfold. The seed of their devotion to Alex had been planted, watered, and made to bloom, and with it, their hatred for all others of his gender grew until it was nearly absolute.
Chapter 873 – "Unaware of the Princess's Decree"
As Ying Hua's voice echoed across the Frost Moon Palace courtyard, rallying the women into fervent devotion and deepened contempt for all men but Alex, elsewhere in the palace he was… otherwise occupied.
In one of the long inner corridors lined with paper lanterns, Alex stood pressed against a random female disciple, her back to the wall, her robes bunched around her waist. His hands gripped her hips firmly as he drove into her with steady, claiming thrusts. The faint slap of skin against skin mixed with her breathless gasps, the heat of their joining all the more intense for being in such an open place.
He leaned closer to her ear, his voice calm despite the pace.
"Have you heard anything… unusual in the sect lately?"
The woman shook her head quickly, her voice breaking into a moan.
"N-no, Master… nothing…"
Satisfied for the moment, Alex pulled her closer and they went back to the rhythm, entirely ignoring the fact that several passing disciples had stopped in the hallway to watch. Their stares ranged from shy curiosity to open, hungry interest, but none dared interrupt.
One bolder woman lingered at the edge of the group, her gaze fixed on Alex with an almost trembling intensity. As the random disciple's moans grew louder, she finally stepped forward, bowing low though her eyes didn't leave him.
"Master… when you are finished with her… will you take me as well?"
Alex's gaze shifted to her for a moment — a glance sharp enough to make her knees weaken — before a faint smirk curved his lips.
"Wait here."
The watching crowd stirred as the promise hung in the air, the rhythm of his movements against the wall not slowing in the slightest.
Alex's pace quickened, his grip on the first woman's hips tightening as he drove into her with deep, final strokes. Her breath came in broken gasps, her nails digging into the wall beside her. With a low groan, he buried himself to the hilt and released, spilling a hot rush of seed deep into her womb.
Her body trembled against him, and as he slowly pulled back, she quickly pressed one hand between her thighs, holding herself closed to keep from losing too much of his essence. Her flushed face and shaking legs made her look as though she could barely stand.
But Alex didn't pause. His gaze shifted immediately to the woman who had dared to ask, her eyes wide and breath quick from anticipation. Without a word, he reached for her, pulling her forward into the same spot against the wall where the first woman still leaned, catching her breath.
He pushed the second disciple's robe aside in one smooth motion, baring her completely before lifting her leg to hook over his hip. The moment he entered her, she gasped sharply — the sound raw and unrestrained.
The bystanders pressed closer now, their eyes locked on the scene, some biting their lips, others breathing harder as they took in the sight. The narrow hallway echoed with the wet sound of their joining, the steady slap of skin meeting skin amplified in the still air.
The second woman clung to his shoulders, her voice breaking into moans almost immediately.
"Ahhh… Master… mmm… so deep… haaah…"
Alex's eyes stayed locked on hers, each thrust deliberate and forceful, as if to make sure every watcher understood what it meant to be chosen.
Alex's thrusts grew harder, the rhythm quick and relentless, each deep drive pulling a louder cry from the second woman's lips. Her head tipped back against the wall, eyes half-lidded, her breathing ragged as the heat between them built to an unbearable peak.
"Ahhh… Master… mmm—haah… I'm… I'm…!"
Her voice broke into a high, shuddering moan as her climax tore through her, her body tightening around him in pulsing waves. Alex's hands gripped her hips firmly, holding her in place as he pushed through her peak, burying himself one last time and releasing deep inside her.
She gasped at the sudden rush of warmth flooding her womb, her legs trembling as she clung to him for support. When he finally eased back, she quickly dropped a hand between her thighs, pressing against herself to keep his seed from spilling too quickly, her cheeks flushed and lips parted in breathless satisfaction.
Around them, the bystanders' stares had turned almost fevered — some shifting on their feet, others visibly squeezing their legs together — the sight of two women in a row leaving them more than a little undone.
Alex, however, stood calm and steady, his gaze sweeping over the crowd as if silently daring the next to step forward.
The first woman, still flushed and shaky from earlier, slipped away from the edge of the hallway crowd. She moved down a quieter side passage, her steps unsteady but purposeful, until she spotted another female disciple — a close friend judging by the way the two's eyes lit up at seeing each other.
Without hesitation, she leaned against the wall and let her robe fall open, baring herself completely. Her legs parted slowly, deliberately, until the glistening evidence of Alex's release was visible between her thighs.
Her friend's breath hitched, eyes drawn immediately to the sight.
"You… you just came from Master, didn't you?" she whispered.
The first woman nodded, a faint, breathless smile on her lips.
"Yes… and I don't want to waste a drop."
She reached down, parting herself with one hand as the other gently guided her friend closer. The second woman knelt without further prompting, her lips meeting the slick heat between her friend's thighs. She drank in the warm mixture, her eyes closing as if savoring it.
When she had gathered the last of it, she rose slightly, their mouths meeting in a deep, messy kiss. The first woman sighed softly into it, accepting the "offering" her friend now fed back to her.
"Mmm… perfect," she murmured against her friend's lips. "It's still warm."
The two shared another lingering kiss before pulling apart, each of them looking faintly dazed — as if they'd just shared a sacred act.
Cutting back to the main hallway, Alex had just eased the second woman down from the wall, her legs still trembling as she stepped aside to join the cluster of flushed, wide-eyed onlookers.
Before he could speak, a new figure stepped forward through the parting crowd — the Frost Moon Palace Sect Master herself. Her presence alone commanded silence, but the way she carried herself now was nothing like the untouchable image her disciples were used to.
She met Alex's eyes, her tone soft yet heavy with intent.
"Husband… I also want to have sex."
A ripple of shock passed through the assembled women, quickly replaced by heated anticipation as they realized this was no jest.
Without waiting for permission, the Sect Master loosened her sash and let her robes fall away entirely, baring her elegant, mature form for all to see. Gasps and sharp intakes of breath echoed along the hallway, but no one dared turn away.
Alex stepped toward her, his hands finding her waist before pulling her close. She pressed against him eagerly, her lips finding his in a deep, hungry kiss. Then, with the kind of confidence only she could carry, she shifted until her back was against the wall, lifting one leg to hook around his hip.
He entered her in a single, smooth motion, the sudden joining pulling a sharp gasp from her lips.
"Ahhh… mmm… yes…" she breathed, her voice trembling but strong enough for all to hear.
The wet sound of their bodies meeting echoed down the hall as Alex began thrusting into her, their position forcing every movement to be deep and hard. She clung to his shoulders, her head tipping back as her moans spilled freely, her voice rising with each pounding stroke.
The watching disciples could hardly breathe — some biting their lips, others squeezing their thighs together — as their Sect Master, normally the embodiment of poise and authority, surrendered herself completely in front of them.
Alex's thrusts grew heavier, each one slamming her back against the wall in a rhythm that made the entire hallway echo. Ling Shuanghua's moans rose with every movement, her arms tightening around his neck as if holding on for her life.
"Ahhh… haaah… Alex—! Mmm… more—ahhh… yes!"
Her voice trembled, but there was no mistaking the raw pleasure lacing each word. The crowd watched in rapt silence, the wet, rhythmic sound of their joining filling the space as his pace became relentless.
Her breathing quickened, legs quivering against him, until her entire body tensed in his arms.
"Ahhh—! I… I'm—ahhhhnnnn!"
She climaxed hard, her back arching as a wave of ecstasy tore through her, her walls tightening around him in desperate, pulsing grips. Alex held her in place, thrusting through her peak until his own release surged.
With a deep, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt, spilling a hot, heavy rush of seed deep into her womb. Ling Shuanghua gasped at the heat filling her, her nails digging into his shoulders as she rode out the final aftershocks.
When he finally eased back, a few drops of his essence slid down her inner thigh, catching the eyes of more than one onlooker. The Sect Master's flushed, dazed smile made it clear — she had been claimed, publicly and completely, in front of her own disciples.
The hallway was silent for a heartbeat… then filled with the sound of hurried, uneven breathing from the crowd. No one would forget what they had just witnessed.
It had been seven days since the events that reshaped Frost Moon Palace.
Seven days since Alex's presence, actions, and touch had rippled through every hall, training field, and heart within the sect.
The transformation was no longer just physical — though the altered landscapes, the endless herb gardens, and the expanded space still left disciples awestruck each morning. It was deeper, woven into the very way the women here looked at him.
Everywhere Alex walked, eyes followed — not with idle curiosity, but with an open, unashamed devotion. Disciples who once treated him as an honored guest now greeted him as something far greater, the man who had given them more than any sect leader, god, or ancestor had before.
They loved him for the changes:
For the training fields where time moved a thousandfold, turning days into lifetimes of cultivation.
For the herbs and resources they had only heard of in legends, now growing at their doorstep.
For the alchemy lessons that gave even the weakest disciple the skill to make perfect pills.
But they also loved him for the way he treated them — as women worth empowering, as people worth protecting. For the way he gave strength not to demand their service, but to grant them freedom in a world where strength was the only currency.
Now, when his shadow passed over the frost-paved courtyards, whispers of "Master" carried on the cold air like a prayer. Even those who had never spoken to him in private dreamed of it. The ones who had been chosen… they walked differently, shoulders straighter, eyes shining with pride.
The entire palace was shifting into something more than a sect — it was becoming his. And they all knew it.
Chapter 874 – "The Faith of the Princess"
What Alex didn't know — at least, not yet — was that in the days since his changes to Frost Moon Palace, Ying Hua had quietly planted the seeds of something far larger than simple loyalty.
It began in the courtyards and training halls, in whispered conversations and private gatherings. The women who listened to her weren't just hearing a daughter speak about her father. They were hearing a prophet describing a living, breathing divinity.
Ying Hua's grey-silver hair shone under the lantern light as she stood before them, her bare form carrying no shame — only the weight of her words. She had spoken of men before, but now her thoughts about them were no longer scattered in passing remarks; they had crystallized into doctrine.
"There is only one truth," she told them. "Only one man worthy of breath, of thought, of devotion. All others are beneath the dirt — beneath even the waste our bodies discard. My father is everything. The sun in our sky. The ground beneath our feet. The air in our lungs."
The first time she said it, the women had fallen silent. The second time, they had begun to nod. By the third gathering, they were repeating the words back to her like a chant.
She instructed them to carry this truth quietly — not to force it in Alex's presence, but to let it shape their actions. Every bow they made to him was now a bow to the center of their faith. Every glance they cast at another man was weighted with the silent judgment that he was nothing.
What began as a few dozen followers had, by the seventh day, swelled into hundreds. And every one of them moved through the palace with the same quiet, burning conviction: they did not serve a sect master, or even a husband. They served him.
Ying Hua's latest gathering was just dispersing when a commotion erupted at the edge of the frost-paved courtyard. Heads turned as the sound of hurried footsteps broke the stillness, followed by the sharp creak of the outer gates.
A lone disciple staggered inside, her robe torn and streaked with dirt and dried blood. In her arms, she carried the limp, pale body of another woman — her sister disciple.
Gasps spread through the gathered crowd, some rushing forward, others frozen in place. Ying Hua stepped toward her, her grey-silver hair glinting in the afternoon light, her expression unreadable.
The survivor dropped to one knee, still cradling her fallen comrade. Her voice trembled but carried enough to be heard by all.
"I… went out to explore the area as I always do. It was quiet at first, but… a rival sect was waiting."
Her eyes darkened, jaw tightening.
"They ambushed us. I… I couldn't protect her. She—" she glanced down at the lifeless form, her voice catching for a moment, "—she died before I could get her back here."
A murmur of grief passed through the crowd, but the survivor's tone hardened.
"I didn't run. I killed them. All of them. Every last one in that sect. They will never touch us again."
The courtyard fell silent, the only sound the faint whistle of wind between the frost-carved pillars. Ying Hua's gaze swept over the women, then lingered on the survivor.
"Bring her inside," she said quietly. "She will be honored. And you…" — her eyes locked on the survivor — "will tell me everything about who they were and where they came from."
The survivor bowed her head, clutching the body tighter as she nodded.
The courtyard was still thick with tension when a sudden pulse of mana swept through the air — heavy, unmistakable. In the next instant, a ripple of light folded reality, and Alex appeared in their midst.
The women instinctively stepped back, clearing a path as his gaze fell on the scene before him. His eyes lingered on the survivor for only a heartbeat before locking on the lifeless body in her arms.
He stepped forward, his presence so absolute that no one dared to speak. Slowly, he knelt beside the fallen disciple, brushing a lock of hair from her pale face. His expression was unreadable, but the air around him began to thrum with raw power.
Without a word, Alex placed one hand over her heart and the other over her forehead. A brilliant, layered light began to pour from his palms — not a single color, but shifting, weaving threads of gold, silver, emerald, and deep violet. The ground beneath them seemed to hum, and the very air grew warm and heavy.
The onlookers held their breath as the light seeped into her body, her skin regaining a hint of color. Her chest shuddered once, twice — and then, with a sudden gasp, she drew in a ragged breath.
A ripple of awe broke through the crowd. The once-lifeless disciple blinked, confusion flickering in her eyes before she realized where she was — and who knelt before her. Tears welled instantly, spilling down her cheeks as she tried to speak.
Alex's voice was calm, almost gentle.
"You're safe now."
Behind him, Ying Hua's expression shifted — part reverence, part fierce satisfaction. The man she worshipped as everything had once again proven why no one else in existence could compare.
Alex helped the revived disciple to her feet, his hand steady at her back as she swayed. He spoke to her quietly — words meant only for her — until the fear in her eyes softened into relief. With a final nod, he stepped back, his gaze sweeping over the gathered women one last time.
"She lives because you are mine," he said simply, the weight of those words sinking into every heart present.
Then, in a shimmer of spatial light, he was gone.
The courtyard remained still for a heartbeat after his departure, as though the air itself was reluctant to move. Then Ying Hua stepped forward, her grey-silver hair catching the sun, her bare skin unashamed before them.
"Do you see now?" she began, her voice clear and carrying to every corner. "Do you understand what it means to belong to him? Death itself bends before my father. No other man could do this. No other man would."
She paced slowly before them, her gaze sharp and unblinking.
"Every rival sect, every enemy, every fool who dares to touch us should know — we are untouchable because we are his. Without him, you are prey. With him, you are eternal."
Her tone deepened, taking on the rhythm of ritual.
"You saw her lifeless. You saw her rise. Remember this the next time you doubt. Remember this the next time you wonder why I say that other men are nothing. Even in death, he is the only one who matters."
The women stood transfixed, some trembling, others clenching their fists in fervor. The survivor, still pale but alive, stepped forward and knelt at Ying Hua's feet without hesitation.
The sight only strengthened the Princess's voice as she raised her arms to the crowd.
"This is why we follow him. This is why no one else is worthy of your breath, your thought, your love. You are his — and you will live and die by that truth."
The courtyard erupted, not in chaos, but in a unified cry of agreement, the sound rolling like thunder through the Frost Moon Palace.
Ying Hua stood perfectly still for a moment, letting the echo of their voices fade into silence. Then she lowered her arms slowly, deliberately, her expression settling into something solemn.
"From this day forward," she said, her voice steady and resonant, "we will no longer be just a sect within a sect. We will be a faith."
The crowd hushed, their eyes locked on her.
She stepped toward the center of the courtyard, the frost underfoot gleaming in the light. With a slow sweep of her hand, she gestured for the women to form a circle around her. They obeyed instantly, moving until every one of them stood facing inward, their gazes fixed on the Princess.
"Kneel," she commanded.
The sound of hundreds of knees striking the frost was sharp and unified.
Ying Hua walked among them, her grey-silver hair trailing like a banner, her bare skin marked only by the white choker at her throat.
"You will speak these words after me," she said, her tone carrying the weight of a vow.
She paused, then began, her voice slow so every word could be repeated:
"I reject all other men."
The circle echoed her in perfect unison.
"I devote my heart, body, and soul to him alone."
Again, the words repeated, stronger this time.
"His will is my law. His touch is my blessing. His name is my prayer."
The final chorus of voices shook the air, the courtyard thrumming with their conviction.
Ying Hua stopped at the center again, raising her chin.
"Rise — as Daughters of the Faith. From this moment, you are more than disciples. You are the shield and voice of the only one worthy of your loyalty. You will spread his truth quietly but without hesitation, and you will crush any who mock or challenge it."
As they stood, their faces had changed — sharper, prouder, eyes bright with the fire of new purpose. The air between them felt heavier, charged with something far more dangerous than simple obedience.
The Faith of the Princess was no longer just whispered devotion. It was now an organized movement.