The last two months that followed the tense, unsettling confrontation in the Imperial Palace marked a pivotal shift in Qian Renxue's life.
While Zhang Tian and his fiancées dominated the headlines with their spectacular performances in the Great Spirit Arena, she orchestrated a far more subtle and profound transformation from the shadows.
Her existence had always been one of duality—by day, the impeccable Crown Prince Xue Qinghe, a paragon of diligence and poise, attending to the monotonous grind of state affairs under the watchful eyes of Emperor Xue Ye and her unwitting mentor, Ning Fengzhi.
But by night, in the fortified, soundproofed sanctum of her private quarters within the palace, she shed that facade like a serpent molting its skin. There, she was Qian Renxue, the prodigious Young Miss of the Spirit Hall, heir to an empire of spiritual might, and she became a relentless instructor in the art of deception.
Her student was a carefully selected operative named Lian, a young man in his early twenties, handpicked from the Spirit Hall's most devoted ranks.
What made Lian ideal wasn't just his striking physical resemblance to the real Xue Qinghe—same sharp jawline, same piercing eyes, same lithe build—but his rare martial spirit: the Illusion Mirage, a spirit that specialized in crafting lifelike deceptions.
This spirit allowed him to mimic not only appearances but also the essence of other spirits, including the graceful Swan spirit that the original prince had possessed.
It was a stroke of genius on Qian Renxue's part; with proper training, Lian could summon illusory swan wings or replicate the spirit's aura during inspections or ceremonies, fooling even the most discerning spirit masters.
"Lian, focus your spirit power," Qian Renxue commanded one evening, her voice sharp as a blade as she paced the dimly lit chamber. The room was adorned with opulent tapestries depicting imperial conquests, but the air was thick with tension.
She wore a simple black robe, her golden hair cascading freely down her back, a rare sight that underscored her true identity. "The Swan spirit isn't just about its shape—it's about the flow of energy. Channel your Illusion Mirage to project those ethereal wings. Make them shimmer as if they're infused with real spirit essence."
Lian, sweating profusely under the pressure, nodded and closed his eyes.
A faint glow enveloped him, and slowly, translucent swan wings materialized at his back, folding and unfolding with a deceptive grace. "Like this, Young Miss?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly with exertion.
Qian Renxue circled him critically, her violet eyes narrowing. "Better, but not perfect. The feathers need more definition—Xue Qinghe's spirit had a subtle iridescence, like moonlight on water. Adjust your illusion; draw from your reserves. Remember, one slip, and the entire infiltration crumbles. You're not just imitating a prince; you're becoming him."
Inner thoughts raced through her mind as she watched him refine the projection.\
'This is my key to freedom,' she mused, a spark of exhilaration igniting within her. 'Twelve years of this charade, pretending to be this crown prince. With Lian in place, I can finally step out from under this mask and pursue what truly matters. And what matters now... is him. Zhang Tian.'
She pushed Lian harder each night, drilling him on every minutia: the prince's habitual tilt of the head during council meetings, the precise timbre of his laugh at banquets, the carefully curated opinions on trade policies and alliances.
"Repeat after me," she'd say, demonstrating a line from a recent audience with the Emperor. "Your Majesty, the border skirmishes with Star Luo demand a measured response—diplomacy first, force as a last resort."
Lian echoed her words flawlessly, his voice modulating to match the prince's cultured tone. "Your Majesty, the border skirmishes with Star Luo demand a measured response—diplomacy first, force as a last resort."
"Good," Qian Renxue approved, though her mind wandered. 'He's progressing faster than expected. Soon, I'll be free to act without the constant weight of this disguise pulling me down.'
While she molded her doppelganger into perfection, her two loyal guardians—She Long, the Snake Lance Douluo, and Ci Xue, the Porcupinefish Douluo—embarked on a mission of their own.
She had summoned them mere days after her encounter with Zhang Tian, still in her Xue Qinghe guise, her princely features set in a mask of unyielding authority.
The meeting took place in a hidden alcove of the palace gardens, under the cover of twilight. The air was scented with blooming night jasmine, but the atmosphere was heavy with purpose.
"Uncles," Qian Renxue began, her voice low and commanding, "I require your expertise. Gather every scrap of information on Zhang Tian—his daily routines, his closest associates, his potential vulnerabilities. And most crucially, locate his secluded estate. Spare no resource; use even the Spirit Hall's network to find his estate."
She Long, with his serpentine grace and piercing gaze, bowed deeply. "As you command, Young Miss. We shall leave no stone unturned."
Ci Xue, bulkier and more imposing, mirrored the gesture, his voice a deep rumble. "It shall be done with utmost discretion. But... may I inquire, Young Miss, why this boy warrants such attention? He is but a Spirit Ancestor, albeit talented."
Qian Renxue's eyes flashed with irritation. "His value extends beyond his current rank. He possesses secrets that could tip the balance in our favor. Do not question; execute."
As they departed, the two Titled Douluos exchanged uneasy glances in a secluded corridor far from prying ears. The palace walls seemed to close in, echoing their whispers.
"She Long, this fixation... it's unlike her," Ci Xue murmured, his brow furrowed. "The Young Miss has always been laser-focused on the grand scheme—the infiltration, the ascension to the throne, the unification under Spirit Hall. To divert resources for one individual..."
She Long nodded, his voice a worried hiss. "Indeed. This Zhang Tian has burrowed into her thoughts like a venomous parasite. I've seen that look in her eyes—it's not mere strategy. It's personal. We must tread carefully; if the Grand Enshrinement learns of this distraction, he may get angry."
Ci Xue sighed heavily. "The Grand Enshrinement has entrusted us with her protection. Perhaps we should counsel her against this path. Obsession clouds judgment, and for her, that's fatal."
Their investigation proved arduous, a testament to the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's formidable veil of secrecy. The estate wasn't listed under Zhang Tian's name or those of his fiancées. Initial probes—subtle inquiries to city officials, tails on sect disciples—yielded nothing but dead ends and polite rebuffs.
"We need to go deeper," She Long decided one night, poring over maps in a dimly lit safehouse. "Bribe the land registry clerks. Track supply deliveries to affluent areas on the city's fringe."
Ci Xue grunted in agreement. "And deploy our shadow agents. If they're hiding, we'll smoke them out."
After two long, painstaking weeks of sifting through property records, of bribing city officials, of tracking the movements of sect disciples, they had finally found it. A secluded, magnificent estate on the eastern edge of the city, purchased two months ago by an unknown, incredibly wealthy woman with no history.
They had presented their findings to Qian Renxue. She had accepted the report with a cool, dismissive nod, but they had seen the flicker of triumphant, possessive light in her eyes.
'So, that is where you hide,' she had thought to herself, a slow, predatory smile touching her lips as she traced the location on a map of the city. She had deliberately not rushed to meet him. The time was not yet right. She needed a reason, a pretext.
She had considered using the pills, the Mystic Water Pill and the Spirit Ascension Pill that Ning Fengzhi had so cleverly revealed to the world, as an excuse. But she had quickly dismissed the idea.
'It is too transparent,' she had mused to herself one night, as she sat in her private chambers, her doppelganger dutifully practicing his calligraphy in the corner.
'To approach him about the pills would be to approach him as a supplicant. As the Crown Prince, I could make a formal request, but he is a clever boy. He would simply, and correctly, redirect me to his father-in-law. No. I cannot meet him as a buyer. I must meet him as an equal. Or… as a superior.'
So, she had waited. And she had watched.
The Heaven Dou Great Spirit Arena became her new sanctuary.
She created a new disguise for herself, not of a prince, but of a simple, bookish young nobleman, a third son of a minor house who had a scholarly interest in spirit battles. She would sit in the common audience, her presence completely unremarkable, her brilliant, holy aura perfectly concealed, and she would watch them.
She watched every single one of their battles for two long months. And with every battle, her obsession deepened, blossoming from a simple, strategic interest into a full-blown, all-consuming fire.
She watched Ning Rongrong, the little princess she had once dismissed as a spoiled, useless vase. She saw the girl's shocking, unprecedented combat prowess, the way she used her Nine Treasure Pagoda not just for support, but as a conduit, a weapon for controlling pure Spirit Power. She saw her Swirling Spheres, devastating, beautiful orbs of nine-colored light that could shatter the defences of a Spirit Ancestors.
'So the little princess has claws,' she thought, her expression a mixture of grudging respect and a faint, dismissive jealousy. 'She is more than she appears. A powerful individual whose attacks are indeed powerful. But she is still just a support master playing at being a warrior. She cannot stand beside him as an equal. She can only ever be a cheerleader in his shadow.'
She watched Zhu Zhuqing, the cold, lethal cat. She saw her terrifying versatility, her seamless, deadly dance between the elements of darkness, fire, and ice. She saw her Abyssal Clones, a tactical nightmare that could overwhelm even the most powerful defensive teams. She saw the impossible, menacing black ring that pulsed with a power that should not exist.
'This one is more dangerous,' she had concluded, her eyes narrowing as she watched Zhu Zhuqing dismember an opponent with a casual, brutal grace. 'A true predator. Her power is undeniable. But her personality is a weakness. She is a blade without a mind of her own. She looks at him with the blind, unquestioning devotion of a tamed beast. She is a fine attack dog, a loyal guard. But she is not worthy enough to be his queen.'
And then, she would watch him.
She watched Zhang Tian, and the rest of the world, the roar of the crowd, the flashing lights of the arena, the very air she breathed, would seem to fade away.
She saw his flawless, effortless battlefield control. He rarely attacked directly. He didn't need to. His crimson grass was a living, thinking entity, a silent, beautiful conductor of a symphony of destruction. He would trap one opponent in an unbreakable cage, he would create a shield to block a fatal blow for another, he would lay a subtle, invisible snare that would trip up the enemy's main attacker at the most crucial moment. He would do it all with a calm, almost bored, expression on his handsome face.
'He is a ruler,' she had thought, her heart giving a small, traitorous flutter as she watched him direct his two fiancées to another easy, overwhelming victory. 'A true emperor. He doesn't even need to try. He simply commands the battlefield. He commands victory. And he does it all with such… grace.'
Her desire for him, which had started as a spark of intellectual admiration for his cunning, had now grown into a raging, obsessive inferno.
'He belongs with someone who can rule at his side,' she had vowed to herself, her hands clenching into fists in her lap, her knuckles white. 'He belongs with me.'
After one particularly brutal match, where Zhang Tian had, with a casual, almost bored, flick of his wrist, trapped three powerful Spirit Ancestors in an unbreakable cage of crimson vines, her two guardians had confronted her in the carriage on their way back to the palace.
"Young Miss," She Long had begun, his voice a low, respectful, but unmistakably firm, sound. "Your interest in this boy… it is becoming an obsession. It is dangerous."
"He is right, Young Miss," Ci Xue had added, his own voice a deep, troubled rumble. "To spend so much of your time, to focus so much of your energy, on this one individual… it is a distraction from the grand plan. What would the Grand Enshrinement say if he knew of this?"
Qian Renxue's reaction had been a flash of cold, imperious fury. "My interest in him is purely strategic," she had snapped, her violet eyes blazing with a cold, divine light. "He is a powerful, valuable asset. He has the potential to become a threat to the Spirit Hall. I am merely observing him, analyzing his weaknesses. I intend to subdue him for the glory of the Spirit Hall. That is all."
She had looked at them, her gaze a silent, deadly warning. "And you will not speak of this to my grandfather. This is a matter I wish to handle alone. Is that understood?"
They had had no choice but to obey. But they had seen the truth in her eyes. This was no longer just about strategy. It was personal.
And now, two months later, the time for waiting was over.
Her doppelganger was perfect. He had taken over all her public duties, and was even, at her command, beginning the long, tedious process of courting a suitable, pliable noblewoman. She was, for the first time in twelve long years, completely, utterly free.
She sat in her private chambers, in her true, beautiful form, reviewing the latest intelligence reports from her spies. She read of troop movements, of political alliances, of economic shifts. It was all so… boring.
And then, she found it.
It was a small, seemingly insignificant report, from an agent who had been monitoring the activities of the city's various mercenary guilds. It detailed a series of secret, high-level meetings that had taken place over the past week.
The report stated that Zhang Tian, along with his two fiancées, had been meeting with the captains of several powerful mercenary teams. And that, after these meetings, those teams had all, without exception, pledged their loyalty, under a temporary but binding contract, to the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect.
A slow, triumphant, and incredibly cunning smile spread across Qian Renxue's beautiful face.
"Finally," she said aloud, her voice a low, satisfied purr. "The perfect excuse. The one he cannot simply deflect to his father-in-law."
She began to pace the room, her mind a brilliant, beautiful storm of new, exciting possibilities.
'He is building an army,' she thought, her eyes gleaming with a predatory light. 'A secret army of powerful mercenaries, loyal to his sect. This is not just a simple strengthening of their foundational power. This is an act of aggression. A potential threat to the stability of the empire… and to the absolute authority of the Spirit Hall.'
She had him. She finally, finally, had him.
She laid out her new plan in her mind, each piece clicking into place with a satisfying, final thump.
'I will approach him directly,' she decided. 'Not as a supplicant. Not as a buyer. I will go to him as Qian Renxue, the Young Miss of the Spirit Hall, a concerned individual representation my faction.'
She would use the information about the sect's secret army-building as her leverage. She would not threaten him openly. She would simply… express her concern. She would suggest that such a rapid, secret accumulation of power could be… misinterpreted by the other great powers. That it could be seen as an act of treason.
'The current Supreme Pontiff,' she thought, a cruel, beautiful smile touching her lips, 'is not a patient woman. If she were to learn of this… if she were to believe that the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect was building a private army to challenge her authority… she might be inclined to act. Decisively. To crush the sect before it becomes a true rival.'
'He is intelligent,' she mused, her confidence absolute. 'He will understand the unspoken threat.'
She believed this threat would force him into a private, ongoing dialogue with her. It would give her the perfect, legitimate reason to meet with him regularly. To get close to him. To show him what true power, what true beauty, what true ambition, really was.
She looked at her own reflection in a large, gilded mirror. She saw a beauty that was divine, a power that was absolute, a future that was limitless.
'They are children,' she thought, a flicker of cold, pitying contempt in her violet eyes as she thought of Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing. 'A spoiled princess and a feral dog. They cannot hope to compete with me. They may be his fiancées now. But I…'
A slow, confident, and incredibly possessive smile spread across her perfect lips.
"I," she whispered to her own reflection, "will be his Empress."
~~
A/N: Check out my other novels like "Harem Master: Seduction System" and the "Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist" and I hope you like this story and those stories as well.
Check out more chapters on my P.atreon. The P.atreon will have 20+ Chapters ahead for this story. I hope you like it.
The link of p.atreon is: bit.ly/evildragon