"The emperor's voice cracked like brittle parchment as he entered the court, bearing a decision that would alter fate."
———
Flashback:
The days were adding to difficulties as the emperor entered into the royal court, and the ministers sat solemnly in a state of silence.
"My trusted advisors, you know my fears concerning succession. It is clear my brother's line still plots to destabilize my rule," the emperor said, coughing. "I summoned you here today to make my decision known."
The room held its breath, awaiting the emperor's decree.
They had been debating for months about whether to invite Lokìan Shēn, [A fallen immortal trapped for hundreds of years for his trickster nature] with his most unnatural abilities, or to look forward more toward diplomatic views. Both had their high risks.
"I have given it some thought and I've decided to send for Lokiàn Shén," he announced.
An uproar erupted in the court.
"With his power, our future may be secured, though there is a price we will need to pay. Some of you may have suggested not to tamper with supernatural forces, but after trying many ways, no male heir has been born. This is a gamble we have to make."
Most devout ministers objected, but the emperor's mind was made up.
That night in secret, a conjuration rite for Lokiàn Shén began.
Under the full moon light, a shaman performed a ritual to summon Lokiàn Shén. While the emperor and a few ministers anxiously stood by to watch how the incense burned and chants went up in the air.
Slowly the shaman slipped into a trance.
As he spoke, an odd echo followed his words, as if another being used his lips. "Who dare summon me?! What is it that Lokiàn Shén can offer you in this hour?"
The emperor stepped forward in fear, "Great one,"
He went on his knees.
"That thou mayest bless my line with a male child, so my brother's line shall not divide this realm. In return, we do all which thou requirest of us."
Lokiàn Shén smirked as he looked the emperor in the eye, "Tell me, great emperor, would you sacrifice your crown to save your people, or sacrifice your people to keep your crown?"
The emperor remained silent.
Cold laughter spilled from the shaman. "As you already know, your request comes with a price indeed, as all bargains with me do. I will see to it that your queen bear a son within the year."
The emperor smiled in relief.
"But in return you offer grand rituals in my name three times yearly. Is this a price you will pay?"
Now fear gripped the emperor's heart, he knew deep down that no deal came with a sacrifice that easy. "I will accept your terms, great Lokiàn Shén. Now fulfill your promise."
With that, the shaman fell, and the ritual was complete.
A Decade After
The palace was full of joy for Prince Cheng's 10th birthday, but just when the celebration was at its peak, something terrible happened.
As the young prince smiled and took everyone's greetings, he suddenly felt something strange, like an unseen hand squeezing his head. He gasped and collapsed, convulsing uncontrollably.
The whole palace instantly fell into panic.
For seven days, the royal doctors had no idea what was wrong. Cheng stayed unconscious the entire time, not reacting to any medicine or treatment they tried.
Emperor Wei knelt beside his sick son, praying with all his heart when a shamaness stepped forward, her face full of worry.
"This sickness is tied to an old ritual," she said, dropping to her knees. "I can feel the twisted spirit of an ancient spirit hurting the prince, both his body and his mind. If we don't stop it, his attacks will only get worse."
"Do whatever you must to save my boy," the emperor said.
That night, they performed rituals to help Cheng regain control. Incense filled the room as the shaman chanted, guiding his energy to fight off Lokiàn Shén's hold. Slowly, color came back to Cheng's face, and his eyes fluttered open.
"Father?"
The emperor held his son and explained the curse with sadness. "Still, take hope," he said. "The shaman believes you were given a rare gift. With discipline and control of your qi, you can keep this curse from taking over."
The shaman stepped closer. "You must learn to quiet your emotions," he told the prince. "Balance is the only way to calm the chaos inside you."
"Each day you will practice meditation, combat forms, and ways to stay steady in difficult moments. If you master your emotions, you can hold back the storm. It will be hard, but your future may depend on it."
He was sent away from the palace to a mountain, where he trained harder than ever. He learned calmness through meditation, strengthened his body through combat practice, and studied healing to guide the flow of qi.
Little by little, he became aware of the chaotic force inside him and found ways to hold it back.
On good days, he felt almost peaceful. But when he was tired or stressed, it could still flare up without warning.
Over the years, Cheng grew distant from everyone.
He visited the capital rarely and spent time only with his tutor.
Whispers about the "cursed prince." filled the palace. The royal family kept their distance, and the public remained unaware of his condition.
Only the monk understood him. "You have turned your burden into strength," he told Cheng. "Ignore the judgment of small minds. You were born for something greater. With divine favor, you may prove the omen false and save this land."
Cheng always left their meetings determined to rise above doubt.