Night settled gently over Huǒyuán, the moon hanging full and bright above the capital. The city burst into life as lanterns flickered awake, music drifted through the streets, and gifts exchanged hands with cheerful laughter.
The palace, too, glowed with unusual liveliness—royal messengers in their crimson robes moved briskly about, carrying sealed scrolls and hushed orders.
No one dared remain idle.
The king's manor bustled as the chief royal messenger settled in. Despite the festivities, the air was not entirely safe; several soldiers had already returned to their barracks, armor clinking under the lantern light.
Although all maids on duty had been granted the week off, Huā Yuán made her way back to Lady Fuyao's quarters.
It felt strangely empty without her loved ones, the silence echoing against the quiet halls.
She wandered until she stood before the maids' lodge, facing the kitchen. A soft smile tugged at her lips as she remembered the girl she had rescued... a small warmth in the midst of all the day's chaos.
She circled the yard, and along the way, a familiar group of maids spotted her. Their faces brightened instantly as they hurried over with excited greetings. Huā Yuán returned the warmth, then continued her stroll.
The night was dark, but the festival lanterns lit every corner in soft gold.
At last, she reached the road leading to the stream. A fallen branch caught her eye—a tree had split near its base. She bent, stripped off the leaves, and inspected it with a mischievous glint.
"Let me see what I've got so far..." She clenched her teeth playfully, lifting the branch like a weapon.
The road was empty—perfect. She practiced the movements her personal soldier had taught her, shifting her weight, sweeping the branch through the air, mimicking the precision of a trained fighter.
She paused, amazed by her own progress.
Then—
A slow clap echoed behind her.
"You're a fast learner."
Huā Yuán spun around, heart pounding, breath unsteady. Gù stood there in the lantern glow, arms folded, watching her with an unreadable expression.
"Follow what feels natural to you," he said, stepping forward with calm confidence.
"I'm free, my lady. If you wish to learn more."
Huā Yuán straightened her posture and dropped the makeshift stick. Her steps were graceful as she approached him—and without a word, she drew his sword from its sheath at his side.
"Catch up if you can," she teased—then vanished into the darkness, her laughter trailing behind her.
Gù's lips curved.
He smirked—and disappeared after her.
Huā Yuán appeared at the lonely stretch beside the sea, where tall grasses swayed in the rushing wind.
This was her usual refuge—her quiet base whenever the world felt too loud.
She stood facing the restless water, her breath easing with the tide, when she suddenly sensed something approaching.
She turned sharply.
Gù?
Before she could speak, a heavy force slammed into her chest.
She hit the ground flat, gasping as the sword flew from her grip and skidded at the shore.
Her iris sharpened, glowing faintly.
A burning heat spread through her chest—violent, consuming—until it took full control.
She sat up the moment the burning stopped.
The sword she had dropped was now buried deep into the sand, firm and unmoving.
Huā Yuán held her head, steadying herself.
"Hmph..." she sighed, placing her palm against the sword's hilt to pull it free.
"My lady... I caught up."
Gù appeared a short distance away, but he slowed when he saw her.
Something about her had changed—
her face slightly different,
her hair curled with a strange shimmer,
her height subtly altered...
and an aura he couldn't name.
A dangerous aura.
He walked toward her, and as he got closer, he sensed it—
venom.
Huā Yuán pulled the sword out at once.
The sea split open.
The water parted cleanly on both sides—revealing a dry path, and the creatures beneath scattered in terror.
Dark smoke burst around them, swallowing the shore.
Gù fell to his knees.
Unwillingly.
His power vanished in an instant.
My lady...!
His voice screamed inside his mind, but no sound escaped his lips.
The darkness cleared.
The lanterns hanging from the short trees ignited—then burned every tree to ash.
Huā Yuán turned, her now-burning iris fixed on him.
"Do you wish to serve me?"
Gù's chest tightened.
He felt empty—hollow.
A soldier who lost his cultivation was nothing but a walking corpse under military law.
"Yes, my lady..." he forced out, trembling.
"Cut your foreskin," she said calmly, swinging the sword.
"My lady—" He swallowed hard. "I'm... I'm circumcised!"
Huā Yuán blinked once.
"It's time you wean. Come with me, Gù."
She walked past him.
He tried to stand—
But pain tore through him.
Blood followed down his leg.
His trousers darkened.
No...!
He didn't dare speak against her command.
He cried silently and fell back to his knees.
Huā Yuán stopped walking.
She released a long, tired sigh.
"Sorry. I cut it myself. I hate dirty substances."
Her iris flared again, burning—
She blinked, gripping her head as pain surged.
"Hmph."
They vanished.
The night was alive—Huǒyuán pulsed with flavour, music, and the dizzying burn of cheap wine.
Laughter rose from every corner of the capital, and the streets glowed like they were soaked in gold.
On the busiest lane stood Madam Sài, owner of the city's largest brothel.
She leaned against her doorway, sighing for the hundredth time.
Her branch lodge on the next street overflowed with customers, yet her main house was stuffed with nothing but long-term renters.
Her top girls refused to stay inside.
"How can I stay with these dull men? Their play is boring," one of them complained, tossing her scarf.
Madam Sài sighed again. She turned as her chef rushed to her side.
"My lady, a big customer is coming. We should prepare the girls for the whole night. A messenger was sent—"
Before the chef could finish, noise erupted at the entrance.
Huā Yuán and Gù.
Madam Sài spun sharply, annoyed—until she laid eyes on them.
Two tall men stepped inside, decently dressed.
One limped slightly.
The other stood solid as a pillar.
Madam Sài's mouth fell open. Then she ran to them with a delighted squeal.
The girls straightened immediately.
"You are both welcome to my humble house of pleasure," she announced proudly.
"I am Madam Sài."
Her gaze dropped to a mole peeking from one man's chest.
Her smile widened.
"Girls—take them in."
The girls swarmed instantly.
They clung to Huā Yuán most—one held her arm, another wrapped around her waist.
She was completely claimed.
Inside, Huā Yuán's eyes drifted past the noise, catching on one girl—the most beautiful of them all.
A neat, radiant beauty.
Plump pink lips.
A clean, soft face with barely any paint.
A body sculpted like temptation itself: full breasts, a shapely waist, a generous but elegant backside.
Madam Sài was still talking, but Huā Yuán had stopped listening.
"My lord..." the woman purred, shifting her attention to Gù, who gently tapped Huā Yuán's shoulder.
He whispered, "My lady, you brought us here. This woman has been talking."
"How much for the whole night?"
Huā Yuán's tone was cool as she finally faced Madam Sài.
The madam froze.
Then she laughed, grabbing Huā Yuán's hand.
Huā Yuán rose and pulled a small sack from her side.
Madam Sài opened it.
"Wow..."
Her eyes glittered like festival lights.
"My—my lord... enjoy the night."
Music began instantly.
Girls started dancing, hips swaying like flames.
Another clung to Huā Yuán's side, refusing to let go.
Gù was guided to another room.
Huā Yuán's favourite girl was among the dancers.
And she knew Huā Yuán's eyes were locked on her.
Her movements became slower, more alluring, designed to snatch breath and shatter resolve.
"My lord, do you want her?" the girl massaging Huā Yuán's shoulder whispered.
"Hǔnkwū! Come here. Young lord needs you fast," she added, sliding her hand down Huā Yuán's arm.
Hǔnkwū turned, spinning gracefully.
Each roll of her hips brought her closer.
The girls shifted aside, murmuring.
Hǔnkwū finally lowered herself onto Huā Yuán's spread legs.
Their eyes collided—her breath halted.
"My lord..." she breathed, turning, crawling slowly.
Another girl joined her.
They danced together, weaving a sensual trap.
Hǔnkwū's garments were stripped away piece by piece until only see-through silk clung to her body.
She lifted a cup of wine, stepping closer.
Her palm rested on Huā Yuán's shoulder.
She touched the cup to her lips and drank slowly, eyes locked on Huā Yuán.
Then she closed the distance.
Her lips pressed against Huā Yuán's—soft, warm, intoxicating.
Their breaths entwined.
Tongues touched.
Huā Yuán gripped her waist, pulling her flush against her chest.
Hǔnkwū melted into her, breasts pressing against Huā Yuán's body—
—and then her eyes blinked rapidly.
Something was wrong.
Why... why was this tall, perfectly built "lord" not firm-chested like other men?
Huā Yuán's hands slid lower, cupping her backside and giving a full, deliberate squeeze.
Hǔnkwū gasped, breaking the kiss.
So good!
Their eyes locked.
One by one, the other girls slipped out quietly, leaving them alone.
The night glowed brighter than the day, yet none of its brilliance reached King Tiān Lóngxuān.
He sat frozen on his throne, lost—trapped—inside a vision that refused to let him go.
In his vision:
He stood at the vast shores of the great Sì Tiān Temple, wandering until something pulled his gaze.
A figure.
A lone, towering figure standing in the storming tide—
splitting the unstoppable sea in two.
For centuries, the ancient waters had never bowed to anyone.
Not even the oldest gods could tame them.
How?
How is this possible? The king thought, stunned.
He watched the figure reach down and draw a golden sword straight from the earth itself.
And instantly—
King Tiān Lóngxuān felt his strength ripped from him.
His knees slammed into the ground.
His body refused to move.
His breath snapped short.
He was powerless.
A king—brought to his knees by a single being.
He jolted back to reality with a gasp.
Sweat clung to his brow as he sat up sharply.
The room was dark, quiet, and trembling with the remnants of the vision.
He flicked his fingers.
His eunuch rushed in immediately.
"My lord," the eunuch said, kowtowing deeply.
"Prepare my departure," the king ordered, rising to his feet.
It's time, he thought, lifting his arm for the eunuch to assist with his robes.
The eunuch stiffened.
He knew what departure meant.
He knew the king would be leaving the palace—
And whenever King Tiān Lóngxuān left, death usually followed.
He mourned silently.
"Yes, my lord," he whispered, stepping forward.
But before he could touch the king's sleeve—
"I will make good use of your life thread if you continue thinking nonsense,"
King Tiān Lóngxuān said coldly, turning to face him.
The eunuch froze, trembling.
Life inside the Crown Prince's palace stirred restlessly.
Mò Lián was growing tired of the quiet luxury; she missed her aunt's early-morning scolding, the lively noise she once called home. So she went to visit her family—only for the crown prince to insist on accompanying her.
But the moment they arrived, the air shifted.
Mò Lián's grandmother had fallen ill.
Without hesitation, Crown Prince Tiān Jùn summoned the royal physician. The man arrived swiftly, carrying his medical chest, and knelt before the old woman to examine her.
The room grew silent—too silent.
Tiān Jùn and Mò Lián sat side by side, saying nothing, while Wēi Wēi remained standing behind them, alert and steady. The night candle burned low, casting trembling shadows across the walls.
"She is being haunted by her late daughter," the physician finally said, breaking the heavy stillness.
"She needs rest... and something—anything—that keeps her occupied."
Lord Chen and his sister exchanged a tense glance from where they sat opposite him.
Once the physician finished, he packed up his tools and quietly left the room, Chen trailing behind him.
The crown prince remained seated for a moment—motionless, conflicted.
Guilt gnawed at him. He could heal the old woman in seconds... yet he could not remove his mask here. If he unveiled himself, the spiritual force alone could send the entire neighborhood into chaos.
Unable to bear the weight of it, he exhaled sharply and rose to his feet.
Without a word, he stepped out of the room.
Wēi Wēi had been watching every face in the room.
Something about them tugged at his memory—familiar, but ungraspable. Still, he remained silent and rigid until the elder finally stepped out.
Mò Lián didn't move.
She sat by her grandmother's bedside, drowning in her own thoughts. Her eyes were already red, shimmering with unshed tears.
Then she broke.
She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her grandmother, crying softly against her shoulder.
And then—light.
A sudden, soft brilliance filled the room. Wēi Wēi's eyes widened, but he kept his mouth shut, frozen where he stood.
"Mama...!" Mò Lián gasped, pulling back.
Her grandmother's body trembled lightly—just once—before her eyes snapped open at the very moment Mò Lián's tears touched her iris.
The glow vanished as quickly as it came.
Mò Lián sat upright, sobbing as she cupped her grandmother's chin with trembling hands.
"Lián...? You... are you crying...?" her grandmother whispered, blinking slowly, studying her granddaughter's face.
"I love you... My daughter. I'm here. Don't cry."
At that moment, Lord Chen burst back into the room, catching the afterglow of light fading through the window.
On the balcony, Crown Prince Tiān Jùn and Chen Rong spoke quietly while the night breeze brushed past them. Tiān Jùn stood listening, thoughtful and composed.
"Come here, sit. You've been standing for too long," she said gently, releasing a small sigh.
Tiān Jùn glanced at the chair. It was unusually low—nothing like the royal seats he was accustomed to. The contrast made him smile faintly. He turned around, bent slightly, and just as he lowered himself, a scroll slipped from the side of his robe.
Chen Rong's eyes immediately followed it.
Tiān Jùn sat down beside her, then noticed her fixed gaze. His eyes traced the line of her sight—straight to the fallen scroll. His heart lurched. He leaned forward quickly and picked it up, trying to be discreet. But when he looked up again, she was still watching him with quiet curiosity.
A hint of shyness warmed his face.
"Hahaha," she laughed softly, amused by his almost childlike embarrassment.
"Don't worry."
She turned to face him fully. He dipped his head in a small bow, acknowledging her reassurance.
He loosened the ribbon of the scroll and unfolded it. A simple drawing—a baby—rested in the center of the parchment. The sight made his entire face light up; a broad, genuine smile eased across his lips.
He tilted the scroll toward her.
"I met her at the Sì Tán Temple's shore," Tiān Jùn said as Chen Rong gently took the parchment from him. "I never knew her name."
A soft smile slowly appeared on Chen Rong's face. She brought out another scroll from her side and opened it carefully.
She placed both drawings on her thigh and looked at Tiān Jùn, smiling with a knowing warmth.
Tiān Jùn leaned in. His eyes widened the moment he saw the two drawings side by side — the resemblance was unmistakable.
"Wow... are they the same person?" he asked, squinting, trying to catch any difference between the two images.
"This is my son," she said quietly, turning her gaze back to the drawings.
Tiān Jùn's thoughts drifted immediately.
I'm sure I met a girl, not a boy...
"Jùn," she said, facing him fully now. "Where did you meet my son?"
Her eyes locked onto him, demanding an answer.
Tiān Jùn blinked and sat up straight, steadying himself.
"When I was young, I used to have bad dreams. My mother always brought me to the temple," he said, pausing as he fought to suppress a surge of power from breaking free. His mask — the face he used to conceal his identity — still held firmly.
Chen Rong adjusted in her seat. She could sense something was wrong, something she couldn't define.
"Jùn?" she called softly, cautious. She stood immediately — the scrolls fell from her lap and scattered on the floor.
Where is she?
Where did Mò Lián go?
Tiān Jùn mumbled into the air, but right as he spoke, his power suddenly ceased. Everything inside him went still. His energy didn't explode — it simply... stopped.
"I'm sorry," he breathed out. "It's down now."
Only then did Chen Rong slowly return to her seat. She didn't speak. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, lost in her own thoughts.
"How is your son?" Tiān Jùn asked, bending to pick up the scrolls scattered on the floor.
Rong turned toward him, trembling.
"He went missing during the last comet... I lost my family," she whispered, her voice breaking. The memories overwhelmed her, and tears spilled freely down her cheeks.
Tiān Jùn felt a sharp pang in his chest seeing her in such pain.
The woman who holds so much carries an extreme pain.
"My happiest day... it became the worst day of my life," she murmured, lowering her head, letting the grief pour from her very soul.
Silently, Tiān Jùn moved closer, wrapping an arm around her. He patted her gently, feeling helpless yet wanting to soothe her. He had never seen anyone carry such sorrow.
"My husband, my son, and my unborn child... all lost in one day. Why? Why...?" Her words trembled as she clung to him, tears soaking through her robe.
Outside, Lord Chen paused on the balcony, hearing her voice. His heart ached listening to his sister's sorrow.
How can I tell her the truth...? Her unborn child... it didn't survive.
Tears slipped down his face as he watched her through the window frame.
Suddenly, Rong noticed someone approaching. Her gaze flicked, and she saw a figure that seemed familiar: Wēi Wēi.
"Lee Wēi...! Lee Wēi?" Lord Chen exclaimed, reaching out instinctively, failing to notice him earlier in the room.
"Sorry, sir... I am not Lee Wēi," Wēi Wēi said, adjusting his posture immediately.
Tiān Jùn and Rong turned to him, and Wēi Wēi bowed respectfully.
"My lord, her lady has fallen asleep beside her grandmother," he reported calmly. His eyes flicked briefly to the baby's painting, capturing the tender memory.
Rong sprang to her feet and rushed into the room. Tiān Jùn followed, and Wēi Wēi trailed silently behind. Lord Chen quietly left the house, giving them their privacy.
Inside, Mò Lián rested her head gently on her grandmother's shoulder, sound asleep. Her grandmother's hands stroked her hair slowly, lovingly.
The room radiated warmth, peace, and happiness. Rong's eyes never once met Wēi Wēi's, yet his presence remained steady.
They all stayed awake until the first light of daybreak, holding onto the fragile serenity of the moment.
Lord Chen, weighed down by worry, made his way to the temple. The place was crowded, yet he found a small corner under the chanting tree and sat, trying to calm his restless thoughts.
Everything remained still... until a drunk priest staggered forward, grabbing him by the arm.
"Who... who are you?" Lord Chen asked, struggling to pull free.
"You...! Father of the cursed child! You think I wouldn't recognize you? Whoa! To you... Your very existence will destroy Huǒyuán!" The priest's voice carried over the murmuring crowd, and gossip spilled like dust, but his drunken howl dominated all.
Meanwhile, the military general walked beside Yù Xuān, pausing at the temple gate to purchase a wish lantern. Yù Xuān's eyes sparkled as she picked the one she liked best.
"Yay! This one is perfect!" she exclaimed, her smile radiant.
Yán Lǐng watched quietly, his chest swelling with warmth at her joy.
"Pick which you prefer," Yù Xuān said, holding up two lanterns.
He lingered, watching her with quiet intensity.
"Pick," she repeated, pouting.
Gently, he lifted her chin, drawing her closer. A tender kiss brushed her soft lips. Her eyes widened, caught in his gaze, her hand falling weak to her side.
He released her slightly, and she gasped, blinking like a startled bird.
"My lord... we are outside... people are..." Yù Xuān began, but before she could finish, his muscular arms wrapped around her waist. Her gaze dropped as she realized how many eyes were on them.
Yán Lǐng leaned close, his breath warm and sharp against her ear.
"Don't be shy. Your face may be an imposter... or are you afraid I'll eat you whole?"
Yù Xuān pushed him, sighing, though a deep blush colored her cheeks.
Sensing disturbance in the air, Yán Lǐng kissed her forehead lightly and dissolved into thin air.
He appeared where the drunk priest was staggering, harassing Lord Chen.
"You... how can all the roots of downfall come from one soul? Aren't you a terrible creature? No wonder she died at birth!"
Lord Chen struck the priest squarely, and the man staggered, laughing uncontrollably.
"Yes! The devil himself! You think I don't know? Hahaha... Chen..." The priest collapsed, dissolving into thin air.
Yán Lǐng swept through the crowd briefly before returning to Yù Xuān. She chuckled, noticing his sudden reappearance.
Meanwhile, Lord Chen wandered alone along the busy street, lost in thought. His steps eventually brought him before a foreign king—King Hán Wáng Ān—patrolling with his soldiers.
The king noticed an odd man moving quietly among the bustling crowd, everyone else holding their children or enjoying the festive shops. This man walked alone, tentative, yet steady.
Accidentally, King Hán Wáng Ān bumped him. Lord Chen almost stumbled but regained his balance immediately.
"I... I am so sorry," Lord Chen muttered, bowing slightly before continuing.
King Hán Wáng Ān watched curiously.
"Hmm... this kingdom has a troubled soul," he mused, sighing as the man moved past him.
"Sir! You dropped your sack!" the king called, pulling a small bag of coins from his side.
Lord Chen turned, frowning.
"Here, you dropped this," the king said, holding it out.
"I... I have nothing like this with me. You must be mistaken," Lord Chen replied, bowing again, keeping his gaze down.
The king studied him for a long moment. So good people still exist...
Lord Chen clasped his palms, almost begging silently.
"Please... I want to go home. Leave me be. I do not want your money," he whispered, bowing again.
Then, his gaze caught a tall figure watching from the crowd. King Hán Wáng Ān immediately stepped back, signaling his soldiers.
Lord Chen spun abruptly and struck another person—then broke into tears.
"Sorry..." he sobbed, slapping himself in frustration.
The figure he hit steadied him, hand on his shoulder. Slowly, Lord Chen lifted his gaze and froze.
"Jùn?" he whispered, clutching him. "Were you following me? Why?"
Tiān Jùn scanned the crowd, noticing no one was paying attention. In an instant, he dissolved into thin air—with Lord Chen—and reappeared at the seaside. The area was quiet, the crowd nowhere in sight.
Lord Chen looked around, startled by the unfamiliar setting. His mind cleared, and he became fully aware of himself.
Tiān Jùn reached out to tap him, but something unexpected happened. Lord Chen shivered violently. Alarmed, Tiān Jùn turned him, shaking him firmly.
"Lord Chen...! Chen?" he called out.
Memories of childhood trauma surged through Lord Chen. Tiān Jùn released his power, scattering the few people on the shore. Slowly, Lord Chen regained his composure as Tiān Jùn absorbed his energy.
They sat together on the sand, the sound of waves filling the silence. Lord Chen finally released his heart, letting his thoughts flow freely.
"Tiān Jùn... you are the crown prince, right?" Lord Chen asked quietly, staring at the restless water.
"Yes," Tiān Jùn replied calmly. "I'm the crown prince. I... I never told you, but your family treated me nicely, like I belonged. I want to be part of your future. I love them for that." His tone remained serious, steady.
Lord Chen spun, chuckling bitterly.
"I hate the royal family. I hate my existence. I wish to be free of all this hate... but it keeps rising to the surface." He beat his chest, eyes fixed on the sea.
"When I was young, I saw the king roast his people alive. Just now, as you held my shoulder, the memory resurfaced. What do you have to say to that?"
Tiān Jùn adjusted his attire and turned to gaze at the water.
"The sea is salt, and royals are less dangerous near it. The king you speak of was my grandfather. His evil killed him. He was vicious... but he's gone."
"Aren't you his offspring?" Lord Chen asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
"I inherited my mother's traits," Tiān Jùn replied bluntly.
"How?" Lord Chen pressed, crossing the sand toward him.
"I'm Tiān Jùn," he said simply.
Lord Chen stumbled, nearly falling onto the sand. Tiān Jùn caught him, steadying him.
"I have seen god. I have seen a god with my own eyes," Lord Chen whispered, his jaw slack in awe.
"Lord Chen... treat me as you would treat your son. I hate being a god; the consequences are countless. But now I am with you... Will you treat me well?" Tiān Jùn asked, helping him back to a seated position.
Lord Chen drew a deep breath, turning to him.
"First... thank you. You've done a great deal for this kingdom. And now... I need to pour out my heart." He paused, exhaling. Tiān Jùn faced the sea, waiting patiently.
"Rong has a second child," Lord Chen began, his voice heavy with emotion. Tiān Jùn turned sharply, eyes wide.
"She lost her family during the last comet. She was pregnant at the time, but the pregnancy was abnormal. When she gave birth, it was a girl... but the baby was already dead. My sister slept for so long afterward that I assumed she was gone, so I didn't bury the child. My in-law, Lee Wēi, had always wanted a daughter, so I placed the baby in a basket on the sea and prayed. Later, my sister woke, searching for her child. I could not tell her the truth... she thought the child was alive, and her mind..."
Lord Chen's voice trembled, but he maintained composure. Tiān Jùn's eyes glistened red as he patted his shoulder.
"I gave her my daughter. She raised her. They visit this sea after every ritual. Rong took Mò Lián as her own daughter. She's all we have left. I cannot bear to lose her." He paused, sniffing.
"I know you and your mother are good people. Please... take care of my daughter. I do not know why the king chose her for the royal ceremony."
"I will," Tiān Jùn said softly, wiping his own tears. "I heard your sister has a missing son?"
"Yes," Lord Chen replied, nodding quickly. "We don't know if he's still alive."
"And Yù Xuān? Tell me about her." Tiān Jùn asked, locking eyes with him.
"Yù Xuān is sharp... clever. Rong imagined her as her deceased daughter," Lord Chen said with a faint smile.
"Why?" Tiān Jùn asked, intrigued.
"Yù Xuān is an orphan. But... research revealed she is royal."
Their gazes met instantly, heavy with understanding.