The journey from the imperial guest residence to the palace was brief and remarkably smooth.
How different it was from the arduous expedition that had brought them from Jiangji, the eastern frontier city, to Nandu, the imperial capital.
There were no treacherous mountain passes to cross, no muddy roads carved by relentless rain, no battlefields stained with blood, nor the ever-present fear of an enemy ambush.
Only broad stone avenues stretched before them, meticulously paved and lined with towering vermilion buildings adorned with intricate carvings. The streets were already alive despite the early hour. Merchants arranged their wares outside bustling shops, vendors called out to passing customers, children darted through the crowds with carefree laughter, while scholars and officials made their way toward government offices in elegant robes.
The capital pulsed with prosperity.
It breathed peace.
A peace purchased by countless lives sacrificed on the eastern frontier.
Mounted beside the carriage, the soldiers of the Eastern Army could not conceal their astonishment.
Many had spent their entire lives on the border.
This was their first glimpse of the imperial capital.
One soldier stared at the endless rows of prosperous markets and murmured beneath his breath,
"So... this is Nandu."
Another looked at the magnificent buildings rising toward the heavens and let out a quiet whistle.
"I've never imagined a city could be this grand."
"The roads are so smooth."
"The houses... they're larger than our entire barracks."
A third soldier laughed softly.
"No wonder the people here know nothing of war."
Their voices carried no bitterness.
Only wonder.
For years they had lived amidst snowstorms, scorched earth, and the deafening roar of battle.
To them, such tranquility felt almost unreal.
Yet amidst the quiet admiration surrounding him—
Lan Cheng remained utterly silent.
Seated within the carriage, he scarcely noticed the bustling markets beyond the embroidered curtains.
The grandeur of Nandu failed to capture his attention.
His thoughts lingered elsewhere.
On a pair of cold, familiar eyes he had not seen in sixteen years.
Every turn of the carriage wheels brought him closer to the Imperial Palace.
Closer to the man whose approval he had spent his entire life pursuing.
Outside, the city celebrated another peaceful morning.
Inside the carriage, Lan Cheng's heart grew heavier with every passing moment.
For all the battles he had survived...
Nothing had ever made him more anxious than the reunion that awaited him at the end of this road.
The imperial procession finally came to a halt before the towering Vermilion Gates of the Imperial Palace.
For a brief moment, everything fell silent.
Lan Cheng slowly stepped down from the carriage.
Before him rose the palace he had once called home.
Its crimson walls soared into the morning sky, crowned with sweeping golden roofs that glistened beneath the early sunlight. Marble staircases stretched endlessly toward magnificent halls, while rows of imperial guards stood motionless like statues, their polished armor reflecting the dawn.
Nothing had changed.
Yet everything felt unfamiliar.
Sixteen years.
It had been sixteen years since he had last walked these grounds.
His gaze lingered upon the palace for only a moment before a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Greetings, Your Highness."
Lan Cheng turned.
Standing at the foot of the staircase was Senior Eunuch Liu, accompanied by several young palace attendants.
The old eunuch bowed respectfully.
Lan Cheng returned the greeting with equal courtesy.
"Eunuch Liu."
A faint smile crossed the old man's face.
"His Majesty has instructed this servant to escort Your Highness to the Morning Court."
Lan Cheng inclined his head.
"My thanks."
He turned slightly toward the Eastern soldiers who had accompanied him.
"Wait here."
His voice remained calm but authoritative.
"I shall return once the audience with His Majesty has concluded."
"Yes, General!"
The soldiers bowed in unison.
Lan Cheng turned and took only a single step toward the palace gates.
"Your Highness."
Eunuch Liu's voice stopped him.
Lan Cheng halted immediately and looked back with quiet confusion.
"Is something the matter, Eunuch Liu?"
The old eunuch hesitated ever so slightly before lowering his gaze toward the sword hanging at Lan Cheng's waist.
"There is one matter..."
He spoke with practiced politeness.
"By imperial regulation, no one may enter the Inner Palace while bearing weapons."
Lan Cheng instinctively looked down at the sword that had remained at his side through countless campaigns.
His hand unconsciously rested upon its hilt.
"This?"
A hint of surprise flickered across his otherwise composed face.
"You mean..."
"I cannot bring my sword inside?"
Eunuch Liu bowed apologetically.
"I ask Your Highness to forgive this servant. These are His Majesty's orders."
For several heartbeats, neither of them spoke.
Lan Cheng looked quietly at the weapon hanging from his waist.
This sword had accompanied him through sixteen years of war.
It had protected him countless times.
It had become as familiar to him as his own heartbeat.
Slowly, he unclasped it from his belt.
Holding it with both hands, he ran his thumb lightly across the worn scabbard.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"It seems..."
"...even you cannot accompany me today."
He turned toward Cui Huoyang.
"Cui."
Without another word, Cui immediately understood.
He stepped forward and accepted the sword with both hands.
His brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.
"General..."
His voice was low.
"This is unusual."
Generals summoned to court were rarely required to surrender their personal swords, especially when invited by imperial decree.
This...
felt deliberate.
Lan Cheng merely shook his head gently.
"It is palace protocol."
His voice remained calm.
"There is nothing to question."
But Cui's eyes drifted toward Eunuch Liu.
Then toward the endless palace beyond the gates.
Something about this...
did not sit right.
Lan Cheng offered one final nod to his men before turning back toward the palace.
Unarmed.
Alone.
And with every step he took beyond the Vermilion Gates...
he unknowingly walked deeper into a place where smiles concealed daggers, and loyalty was measured not by deeds...
but by suspicion.
The towering vermilion doors of the Hall of Supreme Harmony stood before him.
Beyond those doors...
waited the Imperial Court.
Lan Cheng drew a slow, measured breath.
For a fleeting moment, his heartbeat echoed louder than the silence surrounding him.
Sixteen years.
Sixteen years since he had last stood within these palace walls.
Then, with a deep, resonant creak—
the colossal doors slowly swung open.
Sunlight poured into the magnificent hall, illuminating polished jade floors and towering crimson pillars entwined with golden dragons. Incense drifted lazily through the vast chamber, while rows upon rows of civil and military officials stood in perfect formation on either side of the imperial carpet.
At the sound of the opening doors, every conversation ceased.
Hundreds of eyes turned toward the entrance simultaneously.
"The Ninth Prince..."
"So that is General Cheng..."
"He truly returned..."
Whispers rippled briefly through the court before dying into absolute silence.
Standing at the entrance was a tall figure clothed not in battle-worn armor, but in the elegant robes of an imperial prince.
His posture was perfectly straight.
His expression calm.
Years of warfare had carved an unyielding composure into his features, while countless victories had bestowed upon him an authority that required no proclamation.
He looked every inch a prince born of the imperial bloodline.
The battlefields had not diminished his nobility.
They had refined it.
Yet Lan Cheng remained oblivious to the countless gazes fixed upon him.
He did not notice the ministers studying him with curiosity.
Nor the generals measuring the legendary commander whose name had become synonymous with victory.
Nor the nobles whispering quietly amongst themselves.
To him...
none of them existed.
His eyes searched only one place.
The Dragon Throne.
There—
upon the elevated dais beneath the magnificent golden dragon canopy—
sat the ruler of Great Lan.
Clad in robes of imperial yellow, embroidered with five-clawed dragons woven in threads of pure gold, the emperor radiated unquestionable majesty. His crown of black jade concealed much of his expression, yet the overwhelming authority surrounding him was enough to command the entire hall.
Lan Cheng stopped walking.
For a single heartbeat—
time itself seemed to cease.
His breathing caught.
The emperor.
His father.
Sixteen years had passed.
The face had grown older.
More weathered.
More imposing.
Yet Lan Cheng recognized him instantly.
A thousand memories surged violently through his mind.
The cold gaze that had never softened.
The decree that had exiled him.
The endless years spent wondering if he would ever be acknowledged again.
And yet...
standing here now...
none of those memories mattered.
Because after sixteen years...
he had finally come home.
Almost imperceptibly, the corners of his lips lifted into the faintest smile.
A smile no one in the hall noticed.
No one...
except Bei Yu's warnings, echoing somewhere in the back of his mind.
The battlefield is honest.
The court is not.
But at that moment—
Lan Cheng heard nothing.
Saw nothing.
There was only the man upon the Dragon Throne.
Only...
his father.