From the perspective of Zhuge Yui Lan
The capital's wall had been left behind days ago, but Yui Lan still remembered the feeling of crossing its gates: the weight of time, the breath of the crowd, and the world that seemed to open in a thousand directions at once. Albivion was not a city — it was a sea, and each of its streets a hidden current, capable of dragging even those who swore to swim against destiny.
However, her arrival had not been marked by the hardship of the roads, nor by the exhaustion of a body pushed beyond its limits. Quite the opposite.
The carriage she traveled in slid smoothly, pulled by a second-level spiritual beast — a creature with silver fur and serene eyes, whose restrained movements hid the force of a dammed river. Around it, cultivators in Spiritual Refinement rode in discreet formation, like silent shadows. And for a single moment of her journey, a cultivator in Spiritual Condensation had appeared on the road — not as an enemy, but as an ally. A veiled guardian, who saluted her with reverence before disappearing into the wind, as if he had never existed.
All of this... because of a single young man.
The "little apothecary," as she still called him in her thoughts.
To others, he was nothing more than a medicine apprentice, a frail boy carrying more vials than courage. But Yui Lan knew. She had known since her previous life, when rumors of his death spread like bitter smoke: he was part of a hidden sect, specialized in poisons. A serpent disguised among medicinal herbs.
In that life, poison took him before he could show the world the true weight of the sect that supported him. Perhaps the heavens erased him to keep certain secrets sealed.
But now…
Now Yui Lan had witnessed it firsthand.
The journey that should have lasted almost two months was shortened to just one. No obstacles, no ambushes, no delays. Open roads, prepared inns, even additional supplies offered by merchants who "coincidentally" appeared along the way. It was not coincidence. It was influence. It was power.
She said nothing during the journey. She only observed in silence, with that serene gaze that hid memories of four thousand years. She observed the cultivators escorting them as if they were part of the landscape. She observed the silent respect with which even local authorities bowed their heads to the young man traveling at her side. She observed, and understood.
The poison sect remained as hidden as before… but its roots were too deep for any realm to ignore.
And she… had taken advantage of it.
When the carriage finally crossed Albivion's gates, the metallic bells echoing atop the walls, Yui Lan had already made her decision.
She separated from him.
Not out of distrust — but out of prudence.
In Sky Gray City, it had been easy to hide his identity. Few had eyes capable of distinguishing between an ordinary cultivator and a disciple of a forbidden sect. But here… Albivion was different. The capital was not only the heart of the Empire, it was a mirror. And that mirror reflected everything.
Every gaze carried suspicion.
Every smile could hide a blade.
And every medical master was trained not only to heal, but also to detect.
— Here, your presence would raise questions too soon. — she murmured, bidding farewell with a delicate gesture.
The little apothecary did not argue. He only inclined his head, his eyes hiding the weight of silent understanding. He knew his shadow would become too heavy beside her.
Thus, they took separate paths.
Yui Lan departed for the Imperial Medical Academy — a respected institution, where she could settle without drawing attention. There, her identity as a spiritual physician would be enough to justify each movement, each question, each visit to libraries or laboratories.
He, in turn, disappeared into the capital's crowd.
And as strange as it was to admit, Yui Lan felt a touch of relief.
Albivion was not a place to carry a secret as evident as poison.
But such relief did not last long.
The smooth stones of the streets reflected the light of crimson lanterns, and the endless flow of voices mixed with the scent of spices and burnt iron. Yui Lan walked calmly, her steps light but her gaze attentive. It was the first time she had left the gates of the Imperial Medical Academy since her arrival, and the sensation was like plunging into a noisy ocean after days breathing silence.
It was then that, among the passersby, a presence appeared at her side.
Her eyes moved slowly.
A young man she had never seen before — symmetrical face, skin far too pale, clothes exuding discreet refinement. His hands covered with fine gloves, his gait elegant, almost rehearsed. One could swear he was the heir of a clan, a prestigious disciple, a gallant used to being noticed.
But Yui Lan knew.
The breathing.
Always the breathing.
Between each heartbeat, there was a dissonance: the sweet breath of vitality intertwined with the acidic rustle of contained poison. A sound that only she, accustomed to observing beyond skin and blood, could distinguish.
It was him.
Her little apothecary.
She did not stop walking. Nor did she show surprise. She only slightly turned her face, as if commenting on the weather.
— Change the face, change the skin… but the breathing remains the same. — she murmured softly, almost like a sigh.
He smiled. Not the broad smile of flatterers, but a discreet curve of the lips, as if he appreciated being discovered.
— So you still recognize me, Mistress? — he asked in a soft voice, modulated as if he truly were the young master he pretended to be.
Yui Lan raised her gaze forward, without replying immediately. The crowd pushed them toward the central market, and for a few steps, only the chime of bells and the cries of vendors filled the space between them.
At last, she spoke:
— If you had not appeared of your own will, I would have thought I was being followed.
The little apothecary tilted his head slightly, like one accepting an accusation without guilt.
— And would you be wrong? — he replied under his breath. — The capital is far too vast, Mistress. Here, even a spiritual physician could vanish into the shadows before anyone noticed.
Yui Lan sighed, but there was no reproach in her expression. Only the tired serenity of one who knew that game well.
— If you dare show this face at my side, it means everything is under control. — she murmured. — And today… I have no time to worry about anything besides my brother.
The silence that followed was brief but dense. The little apothecary did not press the matter. He merely walked beside her, like a refined shadow — but still a shadow.
And Yui Lan, though she knew what this meant, did not push him away.
The morning sun filtered in golden beams over Albivion's blue-tiled rooftops, reflecting on the scarlet flags fluttering in the wind. The entire city seemed to pulse to a single rhythm, guided by one event: the Selection of the Seven Great Sects.
It was a day that came only once every decade. Ten years — a breath of wind for the elders, but an entire lifetime for a generation. Every clan, every family, every young talent of the White Flame Empire had their eyes set on this moment. The hopes and pride of countless bloodlines would be tested, recognized, or crushed.
Yui Lan walked among the stands, her eyes sliding over the faces that formed that human sea. Young disciples in impeccable robes, families of merchants who came only to witness, and… higher up, in the reserved areas, the figures that truly mattered. Patriarchs. Lineage heads. Lords of influence.
They appeared serene, like ancient mountains, their hands resting on the arms of their chairs, as if they had seen a hundred generations repeat the same play. For them, this was nothing more than another ceremony in the cycle of the world.
But Yui Lan knew.
The stage that rose before all would not be the same this time.
The thread of history had already been distorted.
And the difference had a name: Zhuge Yu Jin.
She sighed softly, her fingers clutching the light fabric of her sleeve. She found a seat in the middle of the stands, away from the areas of prestige, and sat there, blending with the others.
The little apothecary took the place at her side. The disguise he wore was flawless — new face, polished posture, gloves that hid his hands as if they had always belonged to that body. But his voice, though soft, carried the same dissonance she had already learned to recognize.
— Are you sure you don't prefer a reserved area? — he asked, leaning slightly, his tone courteous like that of an educated young master.
Yui Lan shook her head slowly. Her eyes remained fixed on the central stage, where the banners of the seven sects fluttered like omens.
— It's fine. — she answered in a low but firm tone. — It is not good to draw unwanted attention for now.
The little apothecary nodded, without insisting. His silence was a pact.
Yui Lan took a deep breath. She felt the weight of the moment seep into her lungs, as if even the air itself was about to ignite.
No matter that she had returned in time, no matter that she carried four thousand years of memories — there were things that could not be avoided. Some stages were inevitable. Some plays had to be performed.
Today… she was not a spiritual physician, not a keeper of secrets, not a reincarnated soul trying to rewrite destiny.
Today, she was only a spectator.
And before her, the spectacle was about to begin.