In the opulent halls of the Celestial Jade Palace, high in the Upper Realm where clouds wove themselves into tapestries of immortal silk and the air hummed with eternal qi, Princess Lily Quinn reclined upon her throne of star-forged crystal.
The chamber was a testament to her hard-won status—walls adorned with relics from conquered realms, floors paved in luminous jade that pulsed with the essence of a thousand slain immortals.
Servants moved like ghosts, their eyes downcast in perpetual awe, but Lily paid them no mind.
Her thoughts, as they often did in these quiet moments, drifted to a life she had long since discarded.
She was no longer the fragile mortal vessel she had inhabited in the lower realm a decade ago.
That body—weak, corroding, bound by the frailties of human flesh—had been a necessary disguise, a tool for her descent.
