"And that former fiancé of hers—keep him under close watch. Now that we have something on him, he'll obey our every word. Keep him under control, and when she finally realizes I've been using her… he'll be the perfect weapon to threaten her with."
Xie Ran said coldly, then he threw something on the floor. A portal appeared, and he and the shadowed figure stepped through it before vanishing.
Meanwhile, in the grand audience hall, Mo Tian concluded the court meeting with the council and officials. As he stepped down from the throne, a servant hurried to Yin Zhi's side and whispered something into his ear.
The ever-smiling Yin Zhi froze. His eyes turned sharp, the warmth draining from his face.
"Your Majesty," he said quietly, each word deliberate, "this servant has urgent news that cannot wait."
Mo Tian's brows lifted. "So serious? Come—let's speak in the study."
Without another word, the two men made their way to the imperial study.
Inside, Mo Tian walked to the carved ebony chair and sat, His tone was calm, almost detached. "Your face is darker than storm clouds. Sit. Speak."
Yin Zhi lowered himself into the seat opposite. "Your Majesty, the guard you assigned to watch Her Majesty, the empress, has returned with troubling news."
Mo Tian immediately knew who he meant — Feng Ling. His eyes narrowed. "What happened?"
"The guard reports that she met with Prince Xie Ran," Yin Zhi said, voice low. "They spoke for some time… and it appeared they reached an agreement. But our men couldn't get too close without exposing themselves. But it was clear… they were plotting something."
Mo Tian's gaze darkened, his voice low and edged with ice. "It seems we have a traitor among the palace guards—and those overseeing the portal. How else could my beloved brother stroll into my palace without a single soul noticing? They've clearly forgotten how I deal with incompetence… daring to grow careless under my watch."
A cold smirk tugged at his lips, though his face remained unreadable, as if the news of his new wife conspiring with his brother was of no consequence.
"Yin Zhi," he continued, "seize every guard responsible for guarding the palace gates and the portal today and throw them into the underground dungeon. And also send someone to bring the little witch here—if she resists, all the better. I want to hear from her own lips what she and my dear brother are plotting."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Yin Zhi replied, bowing before walking out of the study.
Mo Tian leaned back, his expression unreadable, but his mind sharp. No wonder he had felt her excitement, fear, and wariness earlier in the courtroom—this was the cause.
His voice dropped to a low murmur, each word edged with cold intent. "Little witch… let's see what surprise you have for me." A faint crimson light flickered in his eyes, the kind of gaze that sent instinctive fear crawling down one's spine.
Meanwhile, in the Upper Realm, where Celestial Immortals and Earth Immortals coexist, balance teetered on a fragile edge. The Celestial Immortals ruled from the skies, upholding law and order. The Earth Immortals, in contrast, were wild, unruly, and defiant.
High above, in the Sacred Sky Domain—the heart of Celestial Immortal territory—a golden palace gleamed in the light of the heavens.
Inside, two women spoke in low, measured tones. One lounged gracefully in a carved chair, her golden hair cascading down her back, her black eyes calm yet unreadable. She was none other than the mysterious figure who had appeared before Feng Ling in the Witch Kingdom.
"High Priestess," the young servant in white began, worry etched across her delicate features, "what will we do if the Celestial Empress learns you warned the witch girl about the prophecy? She will be furious."
The High Priestess's lips curved in a faint, knowing smile. "Do not worry. My sister will do nothing. I am fulfilling my duty—guiding the witch girl. If the witch and that demon fall in love again in this lifetime… it will spell disaster for everyone."
"Then why not simply kill the demon?" the servant girl asked. "Wouldn't that end everything?"
The High Priestess's gaze turned sharp as she studied the girl. Her voice, when it came, was low and deliberate. "Child… you speak of things you do not yet understand."
"You must remember," the Priestess said, her tone firm, "we are Celestial Immortals, not Earth Immortals who bring destruction to the world. We follow the will of the heavens. To defy it is to invite disaster upon us all."
Rising from her chair, she moved toward a single white lily displayed in a crystal vase, her golden hair catching the light as she passed. Her gaze lingered on the delicate petals.
"The witches, the Earth Immortals, and even the other realms do not understand the prophecy," she continued. "Even I, the Oracle of the Nine Heavens, find it shrouded in mystery. The witch and the demon have loved—and died because of that love—for five thousand years.
Each time they perish, they are reborn, only to repeat the same tragedy. Without the demon, the witch dies. Without the witch, the demon falls. Unless they break the curse that binds them both, they will remain trapped in this endless cycle of reincarnation."
Her black eyes grew distant, as though seeing a vision far beyond the room. "The curse was born of their love… and only that same love can end it. No one else can free them—it must be their choice, their trial, and their redemption."
The young servant frowned, confusion flickering in her eyes. Everything the High Priestess said felt like a riddle. Stepping closer, she asked the question pressing against her heart.
"But… how will they know they are trapped in a curse if no one tells them?"
"They will know—in time," the High Priestess replied calmly. "I have already interfered by sending her a warning. I cannot do more. Everything will begin on her eighteenth birthday, when the blood moon rises. By then, they must be strong enough to face what lies ahead… or they will both be dead before the prophecy even begins."
With that, the High Priestess turned and vanished into the Tower, her robes trailing behind her like ripples on water.
Meanwhile, the two people being spoken of sat in Mo Tian's study, the air between them cold, stiff, and heavy with unspoken words.
"How did my little witch sleep last night?" Mo Tian asked without looking up, his eyes still on the report in his hands.
"Not well," Feng Ling replied, her gaze fixed stubbornly on the far wall. She refused to meet his eyes—afraid that if she did, she might say or do something she would regret.
"I called you here to make the rules clear," Mo Tian said at last, closing the report in his hands. His crimson gaze locked on Feng Ling, cold and unyielding.
"As Empress of the Demon Realm, you will manage the other concubines who come to pay their respects tomorrow. You will oversee the palace, undergo training, and learn to wield your powers.
I will not have a powerless witch as my wife. You will accompany me daily to understand how I rule this realm. A teacher will be assigned to instruct you in politics and witchcraft. Master your abilities well."