From Zhuge Yui Lan's Perspective
Yui Lan's courtyard was a quiet refuge in the eastern wing of the Zhuge clan. A path of river stones led to a shallow pond where spiritual carp swam among white lilies. Spiritual willows surrounded the place, their silver leaves filtering the evening light into gentle hues. The breeze carried both the freshness of water and the perfume of plum blossoms from a twisted old trunk that had survived harsh winters and now bloomed more beautifully than ever.
At the center, seated upon a bamboo-fiber mat, Yui Lan cultivated.
Around her, Qi flowed in perfect circles, like ocean currents obeying an unseen tide. The soft currents wrapped around her like a mantle of liquid silk.
Until… they stopped.
The silence of energy lasted only seconds.
Then, as if an invisible dam had burst, the Qi erupted—not with violence, but with freedom. Gentle surges scattered through the courtyard, making the silk curtains ripple and coaxing a soft murmur from the willow leaves.
Nothing broke. No stone moved.
But the air… was alive.
Yui Lan slowly opened her eyelids, revealing deep blue eyes, calm as the sea. She drew a steady breath, allowing the last trace of Qi to settle.
"Ninth level of Body Refinement…" she whispered.
In only a month and a half, she had risen from the third level to this stage.
To any cultivator, such rapid progress could only be described as genius.
And yet… she sighed.
Turning slightly, she looked behind her.
There, suspended in the air, was her Martial Soul.
Water, pure and translucent, shaped into a vertical circle—an unframed mirror. Its surface rippled gently, like the tide on a windless day, but it did not reflect the garden around her. It reflected her—her emotions, every subtle current of Qi coursing through her body.
The Serene Tide Mirror Martial Soul—her first companion on the cultivation path.
And around it glowed a green halo.
Martial Souls bore halos that generally reflected the spiritual potential of their wielder.
It was a classification Yui Lan knew well.
Gray – Stagnant Potential. Weak body, frail meridians. Most never progressed beyond Body Refinement, destined to serve or struggle at the margins of the spiritual world.
Brown – Common Potential. The majority of the population. They could cultivate, but their limits were clear. Many spent entire lives striving just to reach Spiritual Condensation.
Green – Promising Potential. Her own level. Enough to reach something, but never to break truly high barriers without external aid. Many respected elders of medium clans bore this color.
Cyan – Brilliant Potential. Rare, remembered as the geniuses of the empire.
Blue – Noble Potential. Recognized even beyond the White Flame Empire.
Indigo – Resplendent Potential. Aberrations even among geniuses.
Violet – Celestial Potential. One in a million. Geniuses like her brother Yu Jin.
Gold – Supreme Potential. Capable of altering the balance of the world, their techniques becoming legacies for future eras.
White – Divine Potential. Those who broke every rule—like her brother Zhuge Su Yeon, the greatest surprise of her life.
She knew exactly where she stood. And she knew… she simply lacked her brothers' talent.
But potential was not an absolute verdict.
Martial Souls did not always align with their wielder's potential. A cultivator with a golden halo could be no more than blue in truth, while another with a brown halo might conceal a violet seed.
Still, Yui Lan held no illusions.
She was a regressor. She had seen the future. She knew her own story.
Her potential was green. Promising, at best.
Different from her brothers—absolute prodigies, destined to claw at the heavens.
Her cultivation method, superior to that of her clan, was the same she had used in her past life. Yet even so, she knew she was at a disadvantage.
She knew her younger brother had already reached the seventh level of Body Refinement half a month ago. That incident with their cousin—when Yu Jin had humiliated him with his newfound strength—had spread like smoke in a closed courtyard.
He was rising.
And soon, he would surpass her.
That, in itself, did not trouble Yui Lan.
But if she wanted to change the future this time, she had to keep pace.
Her obstacle was clear.
Green potential.
The color that separated the geniuses from those who merely tried to follow.
But this time, she was certain things would be different. For one reason: she was a regressor, and the knowledge of the future poured from her mind.
And if her memory was right, an item was about to appear in Gray Sky City. An item that could change her path.
With that conviction, she ended her cultivation session and rose.
The wind blew like thin blades, carrying the dry taste of ancient snow. From atop the wall, the landscape stretched endlessly—a white sea, motionless, scattered with blocks of ice like forgotten bones. On the horizon, the sun's pale light merely scraped the clouds, too weak to warm even its own glow.
The wall of Gray Sky City, hardened by centuries of frost, groaned faintly under the weight of the wind. No guards. No voices. Only the deep hum of the gale, broken now and then by the distant clang of a bronze bell.
Yui Lan leaned against the cold stone, her light-blue hanfu wrapped close against the biting air. Her serene eyes stayed fixed on the frozen road, searching for the caravan of the Winter Moon Merchant Guild.
That was when a presence appeared—not the one she awaited.
"Well, if it isn't the little lady of the Zhuge clan…" The voice was light, but laced with venom.
She turned her head calmly.
The young man was about her age, bearing the posture of one who had never known lack. He wore a black wool mantle trimmed in silver thread, embroidered with the crest of a soaring eagle—the Han clan's symbol, one of the three great families that ruled Gray Sky City. His dark-brown hair was tied high with a silver-jade pin, his sharp features bent into a smile colder than the wind.
"Your face looks much better now," Han Zhi said, his smile balancing between depravity and mockery.
Yui Lan only rolled her eyes. The mark on her face—long since healed by her master—no longer weighed on her heart. She still didn't know why, upon returning, the birthmark had vanished instantly, nearly exposing her secret to her brother. But it was certainly none of Han Zhi's business.
She knew him well. The second and most useless son of the Han patriarch.
"What brings you to this abandoned wall?" he pressed, leaning slightly, as though uncovering a secret.
"I didn't know I needed permission to watch the road," she replied evenly.
His smile widened, like a predator amused by the defiance of small prey.
"Of course not… but it is curious. This wall only sees use when something interesting approaches."
He stepped back half a pace, hands clasped behind him.
"Speaking of interesting…" His tone sharpened, mocking. "I hear the great Martial Competition of Gray Sky will be held next month. Twenty years since the last… I wonder if your clan even has someone worthy to show this time."
Yui Lan said nothing, and he leaned closer, eyes gleaming.
"Or perhaps… that little brother of yours, Zhuge Yu Jin, will step into the arena?"
His smile grew openly cynical.
"It would be… amusing to see the Zhuge clan's 'prodigious heir' last more than three moves before being thrown out. Pity his fiancée—or rather, his ex-fiancée—won't be there to watch."
The wind rose, flinging snow between them, but Yui Lan didn't flinch.
Han Zhi's smile still lingered when she turned her eyes back to the horizon, her thoughts far away.
She remembered clearly.
The day her parents disappeared, leaving the Zhuge clan staggering like a ship battered by storms.
The three great clans of Gray Sky—Han, Yuan He, and Tie Xuan—had all pressed in. Not with open swords at first, but with poison in negotiations, ambushes on the roads, veiled threats to allies.
They had wanted to crush the Zhuge name, scatter its ashes into the snow.
But they retreated.
They had been forced to retreat.
She remembered Su Yeon's steps through the ancestral hall, calm and sharp as blades.
With a single move, he crushed three elders at the peak of Spiritual Refinement's third stage, shattering their offensive.
He hadn't raised his voice. Hadn't made speeches. He had simply acted—enough for the three clans to retreat into the shadows, waiting for a new chance to strike.
Her thoughts broke as Han Zhi spoke again, mocking.
"Still silent? That serious demeanor suits your clan's reputation… always quiet."
Yui Lan's gaze returned to him, her voice calm but edged:
"Have you already forgotten the past? Has your clan already moved past its humiliation?"
Han Zhi chuckled low.
"Who knows… But remember this, Lady Zhuge. Three years is enough for many things to change. Even a lion can lose its teeth. Perhaps next time, it will be your clan humiliated."
The wind howled between them, and Yui Lan only raised an eyebrow, offering no reply.
If they dreamed of touching the Zhuge clan, it was only because they had yet to understand the monster that was her elder brother.
Then, a deep sound thundered across the wall.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The bronze alarm bell, rung only when the city's guards spotted a significant force, echoed over the wind.
Far along the frozen road, banners of silver and blue appeared on the horizon—the emblem of the Winter Moon Merchant Guild.
Yui Lan turned slowly to Han Zhi, her robe fluttering in the gust.
"You were right…" she said softly, with a nod. "Something interesting approaches."
And without waiting for a reply, she left the wall, descending the ice-crusted stone steps toward the gate.