Hum—
The instant Jiang Ruochén's palm touched the ancient bronze bell, the entire altar shuddered. The blood patterns drifting through the air suddenly accelerated, swirling tenfold faster as if stirred by an unseen force.
In the sky above, heaven and earth responded in kind—an immense vision of the bronze bell appeared suspended upside down in the clouds, haloed in primordial violet mist and divine radiance that split the heavens.
"What—? The altar is reacting? That waste can really awaken a martial soul?"
Gasps broke across the crowd. Every voice that had mocked him, every face that had wished him dead, froze in disbelief.
The court astrologers, the assembled officials, and even the Queen herself were struck speechless.
The heavens trembled. The altar blazed. Nothing like this had ever happened in the history of Zhen'nan.
If an awakening could provoke such a vision, there was only one explanation forming in every mind: Could this "waste" actually be about to astonish the world?
But before that thought could take shape, the phenomenon vanished. The sky cleared. The altar's glow dimmed. The patterns slowed, then stilled, as though nothing had ever occurred.
Jiang Ruochén stood there, a faint golden light flickering between his brows—proof of awakening—but the bronze bell remained silent. No chime. No sound at all.
"What's going on? The altar reacted so strongly—he must've awakened a soul. Why hasn't the bell rung?" Murmurs spread through the crowd.
Jiang Ruochén frowned. "The dragon is the sovereign of all beings. Why is there no sound at all?"
"Because great sound is silent, and great form is formless," came the old dragon's calm voice in his mind. "The Dragon Soul surpasses the nine-star limit. Such a common bell cannot comprehend it. Its silence is only natural."
Then Jiang Ruochén glanced at his reflection in the bell's sheen—and froze.
Floating at his brow was not a dragon, but a small, golden loach.
"Senior… why does my martial soul look like a loach?" he asked, puzzled.
"The dragon has nine forms. The loach is one of them," the old dragon replied solemnly. "As long as it carries dragon bone, dragon fate, and dragon destiny—it is a dragon soul."
Realization dawned. The tiny creature's gleaming scales shimmered with golden light—ordinary to the eye, yet otherworldly to the spirit. He recalled ancient myths: Nine forms of the dragon… and yes, even the loach among them.
"I see now," Jiang Ruochén murmured. "True power hides in silence. Where there is dragon fate and dragon destiny, there is the true dragon."
He remained still on the altar as whispers rippled outward.
Even the Queen frowned. "Grand Astrologer," she called to the official beside her, "what is happening? A martial soul with no bell? Explain."
The old scholar bowed low. "Your Majesty, such a case has never been recorded. Yet the Fourteenth Prince bears a soul mark. If I may observe up close, perhaps I can determine its grade."
"Very well," the Queen said icily. "Take the Record of Souls and assess him."
She had despised Jiang Ruochén for years, and his awakening only deepened her distaste. The disturbance had shaken the heavens—she needed to know what kind of soul he'd stirred, and whether it might threaten her own son's standing.
"Yes, Your Majesty." The astrologer fetched the Record of Souls, the codex containing every known martial spirit, and approached the altar.
"The waste actually awakened a soul?" Jiang Li sneered from below. "Didn't expect that."
The other princes kept silent, faces dark but watchful.
The astrologer circled Jiang Ruochén, comparing entries in the tome. His frown deepened. "Strange… very strange. There's nothing like it recorded. Not a single entry resembles this golden loach."
Of course there wasn't. Jiang Ruochén had expected as much. If the divine bell itself could not measure it, how could a mortal record?
He wasn't about to reveal the truth either. He and his mother stood on thin ice already; revealing a power this great now would be suicide.
"Fourteenth Prince," the astrologer asked, "do you feel anything unusual?"
Jiang Ruochén shook his head. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" The man blinked. "Impossible. A true awakening brings a surge of power—at least the ability to sense spiritual qi in the air."
"Have you determined the result?" The Queen's voice cut through the murmur, cold as steel. All eyes turned toward the astrologer.
He hesitated. "Reporting to Your Majesty—the Fourteenth Prince's martial soul takes the form of a golden loach. Its nature is peculiar, absent from the Record of Souls. I would estimate…" He trailed off, clearly afraid to finish.
"Estimate what?" the Queen pressed.
"…that its power is too weak to be recorded," he said finally.
The Queen's lips curved into a thin smile. "Too weak to even appear in the record? Then it's a trash soul. No different from having none at all."
A wave of laughter and sighs rolled through the crowd.
"Ha! Trash is trash," Jiang Li and the others sneered. "He just got lucky with the commotion."
Royal kinship had no warmth; every prince was a rival. Jiang Ruochén's failure only made the others shine brighter.
Consort Wan alone could not accept it. "How could this be… how could Chen'er awaken a waste soul?" Her eyes were wet with disbelief.
"What's impossible about it?" the Queen snapped. "If it weren't a waste, would it have taken him ten attempts?"
A soft, cold voice chimed in beside her. "Indeed, Your Majesty. A loach after ten tries—if that isn't a waste, what is?"
The speaker was a girl of fifteen or sixteen, clad in azure silk. Not yet fully grown, yet her beauty already striking.
Consort Wan stiffened. Qin Qi.
The same girl who had once been promised to her son—who had beaten him half to death and annulled the engagement.
"Qin Qi," Consort Wan said quietly, "he may not be worthy of you now, but he treated you with true heart. Must you…"
"Consort Wan," Qin Qi interrupted coolly, "we were children then. Let's not bring it up again. We're from different worlds. Being weak isn't shameful—but refusing to face it is."
The Queen smiled, satisfied. "Well said. Trash is trash. No amount of denial will change it."
She rose gracefully, her expression turning regal and cold as she addressed the crowd.
"By royal decree: Jiang Ruochén, having awakened a waste martial soul, is hereby stripped of his title and demoted to commoner. He shall be exiled to Mount Yan. Without express command, he is forbidden from ever stepping foot in the capital again."
The decree fell like a hammer, echoing through the silent square.
And as the Queen's words faded, snow began to fall again.