The carriage creaked to a stop before great black gates, their surface inscribed with wolves so realistic they seemed to leap down and eat strangers. Guards in bright armor stood in double ranks, their halberds shining in the faint light of morning.
Ling Yue descended, her plain robes and simple veil striking against the splendor of the Regent's fortress. All eyes fell upon her—some mocking, some curious, all keen.
The officers, scarred and emotionless, gestured stiffly. "Follow."
They walked through ringing corridors, the air thick with iron and incense. Silk banners bearing silver wolves hung from arching beams, casting long shadows. Servants hurried past, eyes cast down, as if afraid to stay too long in their master's presence.
Still, Ling Yue strolled at her own pace, her steps slow, her spine straight. Even though her human form was weak, her posture wore the serene gravitas of one who had once led host armies of heaven.
Finally, the officer halted before a pair of enormous doors. With a gesture, the guards opened them, disclosing the Regent's hall.
It was large and somber, its black stone floor gleaming like the mirror. At the opposite end, on a raised dais, lay Yan Xi.
He was dressed in robes of indigo so dark they seemed almost black, his hair bound by a plain jade clasp. His face was lean and sharp, as though carved from obsidian—an beauty hemmed by menace. But it was his eyes that froze Ling Yue's attention: dark and bottomless, shining with the chill sheen of a killer.
The room grew quiet when she came in.
Yan Xi did not stand. He simply cocked his head, regarding her as one would examine a peculiar piece of prey.
"So," his tones were low, smooth, but with the undertone of command, "this is the forgotten daughter of the Ling family who presumes to heal what others cannot.
Ling Yue pushed back her veil but did not bow. Instead, she met his eyes straight on, her tone unperturbed. "If Your Highness invited me here, then you must know I am not here to brag unnecessarily."
A murmur spread through the guards standing along the corridor. No one dared speak to the Regent with such aplomb—not nobles, not generals, not even ministers.
But Yan Xi smiled weakly, though his eyes sharpened. "Bold." He raised his cup, rotating the wine in a slow circle. "I like boldness. It makes breaking more. satisfying."
Ling Yue's mouth curved, thin and chill. "Then you will discover me hard to break."
The silence after was heavy, fraught with hidden currents.
Yan Xi leaned forward, a flicker of interest in his eyes. "Very well, Ling Yue. Put your words into action. A plague is brewing in the northern district, and my physicians cannot stop it. If you can succeed where they failed…" His smile grew wider, wolfish. "…then perhaps you shall gain my favor. If you fail—"
His gaze hardened, predator's glint. "—your life will be forfeit."
Ling Yue did not flinch. "Then allow me to see your plague."
For the first time, Yan Xi's expression shifted—surprise, then intrigue.
The hall's tension snapped like a bowstring. The wolf had bared his fangs. The immortal had not lowered her gaze.
And so began the game.