Perspective: Zhuge Su Yeon
The grand hall of the imperial palace was silent — so silent that even the wind, as it slipped through the jade windows, seemed afraid to disturb the meeting.
The cold northern light filtered through the translucent ceiling, falling over the polished floor and glinting off the golden emblems carved into the columns.
Every symbol of the Zhuge Clan seemed to watch in silence, pressing down on the shoulders of the court ministers.
Before me, the man bowed so deeply his forehead nearly touched the floor. The long sleeves of his crimson robe dragged across the tiles, stained with traces of spiritual dust.
He wore the standard uniform of the imperial ministers — dark fabric embroidered with metallic threads that represented stabilizing Qi chains, a pattern reserved for high-ranking officials.
Over his chest, the golden imperial crest shone with loyalty — but eyes could not be embroidered.
He was a middle-aged man, nearly bald, with only thin strips of hair along the sides of his head — as if time itself had given up on granting him dignity.
Sweat gleamed on his skin, and even as he knelt, his expression tried to read mine.
Of all the ministers, he was perhaps the one who best embodied the empire itself: worn, imperfect, but still functioning.
A duckling that somehow learned to swim among dragons.
"Your Majesty, the Shu Clan's deadline ends tomorrow... I beg you to make a decision."
His words fell like stones into a frozen lake — sinking without a ripple.
I studied him for a moment.
Not out of courtesy, but to gauge the kind of loyalty kneeling before me.
Was it genuine concern… or just another performance from a man serving two masters?
Hard to tell.
Men in government are like spiritual formations — beautiful, intricate, and full of traps.
In the end, I only let out a quiet sigh. "That's perfect."
The sentence alone made him raise his head in confusion.
"Since the Shu Clan is on their way," I continued, voice calm and cool, "this Emperor will greet them personally tomorrow."
The words echoed through the hall.
And in an instant, expressions began to crack like ice beneath one's feet.
Some ministers paled, certain I'd gone insane.
I could almost hear their inner thoughts racing — which concubine to take with them when they fled.
Others hid faint smirks, the kind of mockery that any eunuch should've punished on the spot.
Laughing at an Emperor's decision… was a crime worthy of death.
But today, I decided to be generous.
After all, a good political play still needs its actors alive for the next act.
Then there were the few faces that stayed serious — eyes fixed on me with genuine concern.
Those were the ones still worth keeping close.
They knew that an "insane" decision in my hands rarely meant what it seemed.
I rose slowly.
The movement alone made the ministers' knees creak against the floor.
The eunuch at my side understood my signal before I even spoke.
"Court dismissed! All hail His Majesty Zhuge!"
His voice rang against the jade walls.
A chorus of salutations followed, but I didn't bother to listen.
The echoes felt weaker this time — a little fewer than during the last assembly.
I stepped out of the hall with the calm of someone who had already expected that.
Loyalty, after all, is always the first thing to dissolve in silence.
Not that it bothered me much.
It simply didn't matter.
If I were to explain my current situation to any of my old friends back on Earth — because yes, I was a transmigrator, a modern man reborn in a world of cultivation — they'd probably laugh before I could even finish.
"Man, you're an Emperor now! Do you even realize what that means? Unlimited power, an entire palace to yourself, hundreds of servants calling you 'Your Majesty' with every breath!
You can order anyone around, do whatever you want, whenever you want! Take as many concubines as you please — and come on, they've got to be stunning in that world!
Daily banquets, wine, gold, silk robes, maybe even a sect bowing just to watch you walk by!
You literally beat the game, bro!
You're the most powerful man in the realm — no boss, no bills, no traffic, no deadlines, nothing!
Just power, women, and endless luxury! The dream life of every man!
Man… you lucky bastard. I'd trade places with you for one day. Just one!
Bet I wouldn't even remember what stress feels like. You won at life!"
That's exactly how they'd react — laughing, clapping, completely oblivious to what it means to stand above everyone… and still be chained to the weight of a throne.
And to be fair, they wouldn't be entirely wrong.
Being an Emperor in this world of cultivation meant standing at the top of the mortal food chain.
No restrictions. No authority above you — at least most of the time.
It was a title of immense weight.
And for anyone who lived for excess, it was the perfect position.
But reality is never that simple.
The empire I inherited — if it even deserved the title — was a decorated corpse.
More accurately, a small kingdom isolated from the rest of the world.
My imperial father — the "magnificent scoundrel," as I liked to call him — vanished mere days after leaving me a decaying throne and a people accustomed not to thrive, but to endure.
The Zhuge Empire, located on Zhuge Island — yes, the man had a knack for naming things — was no paradise surrounded by tranquil seas.
It was the northernmost point of the world.
A place where even the sun seemed to ask permission to rise, and after six hours of struggle, gave up — leaving us with eighteen hours of moonlight and biting wind.
Cold here wasn't a season. It was the true sovereign of the land.
Mountains of eternal ice surrounded the capital, frozen seas reflected the moonlight like blades, and the wind's constant howl reminded everyone that even breathing here hurt.
Every inhale was a reminder that being alive was, in itself, a form of defiance.
And yet, even in this desolation, there were those who coveted my throne.
The most recent example: the Shu Clan.
They sent a pompous, perfumed letter demanding I surrender the throne "in the name of regional stability."
The translation was simple — kneel or die.
Unfortunately for them, while I've never been one for grand gestures, I'm not the type to retreat at the first sign of pressure.
And I already had plans for this island… and for this throne.
So, the Shu Clan would have to be disappointed in their ambitions.
Because tomorrow, when they finally dared to cross the frozen gates of my palace…
They would be reminded of an old truth the world seemed to have forgotten:
A dragon's son… is still a dragon.