Red flooded the courtyard. The stone floor was littered with bodies, limbs twisted at strange angles, and faces frozen from shock, angry, and despair. The steady drizzle that had started moments earlier gradually blended with pools of blood that shimmered in the gentle light of the lightning. The damp air was heavy with the metallic smell of blood.
The boy stood in the middle of this chaos.
He was tall and lean, wearing a long black robe that already soaked and streaked with blood. The curved sword gleamed in his hand, slick with dripping wetness, as if it had just been pulled from a dark and dreadful place. Thin Rivulets of blood threads clung to the steel and then dropped to the ground below. He lilted his head towards the dark sky, his white hair falling over his sharp, pale face, almost glowing in the din light of the storm.
The rain seemed to ignore the bloodstains that clung obstinately to his chest and sleeves, but it did fall steadily, trailing the lines of his icy face and beading along his lashes. His piercing, clear eyes gazed into the emptiness above, seemingly searching for something beyond this violent, bloody world.
Footsteps arrived from the courtyard's edge.
At the gate, a guard stopped in his rain-soaked armor. He opened his mouth but couldn't speak, his eyes fixed on the sword, the fallen bodies, and the prince's blood-red clothes. His hands pressed against the wet stone, and then his knees buckled, sending him collapsing forward.
" Prince are you okay?" His voice could hardly be heard over the sound of the rain as he stammered.
The prince slowly turned to face him. His eyes were cold and hard to read. He stayed silent for a while. The guard held his breath in fear, his eyes dropping to the ground as he waited for judgment
The prince stepped forward without a word. The silence was filled with the sound of blood squelching beneath the feet. He stopped in front of the kneeling guard and spoke in a low, firm voice that broke the damp silence
"Clean up this message."
As if telling someone to sweep dust off a floor, the words were final and emotionless.
The rain kept falling, washing away the stone and the blood. The guard trembled and bowed even lower, his face pale with fear
The prince turned his back, his robe trailing behind him like a fading shadow in the night.
The smell of humid stone and steam with a hint of blood was still strong in the prince's chamber. As crimson stains from his back robe turned into thin red streams that twisted down the edge of the basin, Shen Yun, the First Prince, stood motionless beneath the steaming bath's falling sheets of water.
The pale morning light filtered through the lattice windows and caught his white hair, soaked and sticking to his sharp features. After last night's slaughter, his purple eyes remained closed for long time, calm and unreadable, as though he was communicating with his inner spiritual energy to dispels the gloomy aura that clung to his body.
He drew a robe of white spirit-silk from an elaborate chest and carefully dried his skin, tracing the muscles hardened by battle. Its fabric, woven by ancient masters with seal-threads and protective runes, shimmered slightly. As if putting on armor for the soul instead of the body, he effortlessly wrapped it around himself.
He bowed once toward the jade-carved ancestral tablets before he lay down, silently thanking the lineage that had given birth to him. Then, calm as if he had not just taken a bath in blood he lay on the plush bed of embroidered silk and fell asleep without stress or haste.
Low murmurs, like wind through parched leaves, shattered the quiet in the servants' hall at dawn.
One servant whispered, his hands shaking as he poured tea, "I heard it. From the 1st Prince's courtyard came a screams. It was awful!"
Another whispered back, "I heard it too! It wasn't any fight. It felt like a soul being tron to pieces!"
A third servant gripped his chest tightly. "The signs are not good. Every time someone has conveyed the throne in recent months, there has been bloodshed. Heaven must be keeping an eyes on us."
The clatter of bowls and spoons was muffled by their nervous looks and fear of being overhead.
As the morning light slipped through the curtains, Shen Yun began to stir. Slowly, his eyes opened, calm and steady, as though he had finished a quiet meditation rather than a night's sleep. He put on his white robe and stretched his body once, the motion smooth and natural. When his hand brushed the cloth, faint symbols on the fabric shimmered, softly absorbing the fresh energy of the new day.
He was carrying a Cultivation manual filled with drawing of energy paths and complicated formulas. Getting out of bed calmly, he walked past the small wooden altar where the incense still gave off a gentle smoke, and then moved slowly towards the courtyard.
The courtyard, which had once been soaked in blood and filled with fallen bodies, now looked completely clean. The guard had spent the entire night scrubbing away every sign of the battle, using holy powder and special wind charms to clear the stone floor.
Now, nothing was left of the horror—only the faint scent of incense and damp soil lingered in the air, as if the rain itself had washed away any trace of the violence.
Like stepping into quiet garden, Shen Yun walked into the courtyard. He sat down on a stone bench carved with patterns, opened his book, and began to read, his eyes steady and calm as they followed the words on the page.
The Right General of the Empire arrived soon after, his armor clinking as he stepped inside. A trace of concern marked his otherwise stern face as his eyes moved across the spotless courtyard before settling on the prince, who remained calm and composed.
Thought his voice carried quiet worry, he bent forward with polite respect. "First Prince Shen Yun.... shouts were heard from your courtyard last night. Please tell me, are you unharmed? Did someone trying to kill you again?"
Shen Yun slowly shut his book and allowed a small smile to appear on his face. It was a light, playful sort of smile, the kind that showed he already understood more than he let on, almost as if the very question itself had amused him.
"Yes," he spoke in an easy, clear, almost cheerful tone. "I think many people would rather see me died."
The General's jaw grew stiff, and his eyes widened for a moment. He didn't know how to respond, since the prince stayed calm and steady. Shen Yun's gaze shone with a cold kind of amusement, yet it showed no hint of fear or anger.
The prince acted like the danger of being killed was nothing serious, like just a light wind. He calmly opend his book again and went back to reading, not bothering to wait for anyone to ask him more questions.