Peace did not last long in the Li Empire. It never did.
Though the Emperor had warned the princes not to provoke me again, envy and fear rarely listen to an emperor's voice. Within days of my return to the northern province, rumours began spreading through the noble circle. Whispers said I held armies larger than the royal legions, that gods themselves knelt to me, and that the Emperor's favour made me untouchable.
Power draws curiosity like honey draws flies.
The first to move were the Fourth and Seventh Princes. Pretending to "inspect the northern defence lines, they secretly marched private troops close to the border, sending messengers to nearby nobles to "test" the duke's strength.
Wen Zixing brought me the report late one evening. "Your Highness," he said, bowing, "my spies confirm both princes are gathering men. They plan to test us before Father hears."
I only smiled faintly. "Let them come. But not here."
I looked up at Yue Zhilan, who stood at the doorway, calm as ever, her silver armour catching the candlelight. "From today onwards, you need not hide," I said. "I permit you to serve openly as my bodyguard. No need to play the gentle consort any longer."
Her eyes softened. "At last," she said, amused. "Do you know how boring it was to play the fragile woman?"
"I can imagine," I laughed. "This city may see trouble soon. I'd rather everyone knows whom they're offending before they try."
That evening, to the surprise of my advisers, I left the mansion unguarded and went to the famous entertainment house known as Cloud Jade Pavilion.
The place was well known across the empire—a house of music and light, where nobles and scholars drank under silver lamps while dancers moved like drifting petals. I went there not for wine, but to watch who followed me.
Yue Zhilan walked at my side, no longer wearing silk but clad in moon‑patterned armour with her spear slung casually across her back. Every step she took made the air shimmer faintly, her divine aura no longer hidden. The streets grew quiet as we passed; even the usual drunkards scattered.
Inside, the Pavilion's madam—a plump, smiling woman with jewelled hairpins—hurried over and bowed deeply. "Your Grace, Duke Ling Chen! What an honour. We didn't expect…" She trailed off, noticing Yue Zhilan's glowing eyes, and nearly forgot how to breathe.
"A quiet room will do," I said kindly. "No performance, no other guests."
She nodded endlessly. "Of course, of course!" Within minutes, we sat on a private balcony overlooking the city lights, the faint melody of zithers whispering through the floors below.
Not long after, the trap arrived.
Through the Pavilion's decorated windows, I could sense the tension outside—hidden cultivators spreading through the alleys, soldiers moving under invisibility talismans. The Fourth and Seventh Princes entered together, their smiles polished, but their eyes sharp.
"Fifth Brother, said the Fourth Prince smoothly, "we heard you were in the capital's finest house and thought to greet you. Surely there's no harm in a family drink?"
"None at all," I replied, gesturing toward the table. "Sit. Good wine is better when shared."
Yue Zhilan poured for them wordlessly, her movements calm but graceful. The pale glow that clung to her fingers made the princes' guards stiffen at once.
"She's no human," one muttered under his breath before being elbowed to silence.
The Seventh Prince forced a laugh. "Brother, your guard seems… exceptional."
I met his eyes. "She's Yue Zhilan, my protector. If my brothers have questions to ask, they may speak plainly. She's part of my household—and my sword."
The room fell quiet.
Outside, I felt spiritual signatures flicker—dozens of cultivators waiting in ambush under cloaking spells. Yue Zhilan's eyes flashed faint silver, and a cold ripple of power spread through the air as she released a sliver of her true cultivation.
Light rippled across the Pavilion for a brief instant—soft yet overwhelming, like moonlight moulding reality itself. Every hidden assassin froze, their talismans unravelling mid‑air.
No one screamed, but the silence said enough.
Yue Zhilan turned toward me. "Do you want them alive?" she asked calmly.
I smiled faintly. "No killings tonight. Let them understand the difference between testing and dying."
The air trembled, and in one blink, every spy outside the Pavilion was thrust to the ground by an invisible force, their weapons breaking to dust. Afterwards, Yue Zhilan simply folded her hands behind her back, as if nothing had happened.
The Fourth Prince's face had gone pale. Sweat clung to his brow. "Fifth Brother, I think this was… a misunderstanding," he said carefully. "We only came to ensure your safety. Rumours reached us that rebels still lingered nearby."
"Ah," I said mildly, sipping my tea. "Then you've done well. But your men outside don't seem trained for protection—they looked too frightened."
He flinched but nodded quickly. "We'll call them back. At once."
The Seventh Prince followed his lead. "Yes, yes, we'll withdraw immediately."
Within moments, their soldiers retreated from the alleys like mist fading from sunlight.
I stood, setting down my cup. "Good. Then let's drink properly next time, with less armour on both sides. Peace suits the empire better."
The princes stammered something that might have been agreement and practically fled, their fine robes fluttering behind them.
When they were gone, Yue Zhilan exhaled softly. "You handled that almost kindly," she said.
"I learnt that fear lasts longer when it's polite," I answered, smiling. "Besides, the emperor's watching, and I'd rather not ruin his peace."
As we left the Pavilion, the night air tasted different—sharper somehow, alive with quiet awe. Word of what happened inside spread before the sun rose. By dawn, every noble in the capital knew: those who tested the Fifth Prince now knelt before the moonlight and begged forgiveness.
Back in the palace, the emperor listened to the news in silence. Finally, he said softly to his attendants, "Tell the princes: I warned them once. Let this be the last time my son has to remind them."
At the mansion gates, I looked back toward the sleeping city. Yue Zhilan stood beside me, spear glinting faintly under starlight.
"I let them live," she said. "You think they'll learn?"
I smiled faintly. "They don't need to learn," I replied. "They just need to remember."
And so, that night at Cloud Jade Pavilion, peace was bought again—not with war or gold, but with silence, wine, and the unspoken promise of what would happen if the peace was broken.