"Those who cannot master their hearts will one day be mastered by them. Rage gives power, but it devours the hand that wields it." — Ancient Cultivator's Proverb
The air in the corridor crackled.
For a moment, silence lingered where Crystal's footsteps had just faded — soft, composed, distant. But the calm was short-lived.
The eldest of the three sisters stood frozen, her crimson eyes narrowing. The words her second sister had spoken — quiet, almost casual — still echoed in her mind.
"She's not the same woman they say she is."
That simple line burned like acid.
The eldest — Raven , daughter of the King's Hand — clenched her fists. The faint gold aura that marked her as a Master Phase cultivator began to pulse around her like a storm about to break.
"How dare you," Raven hissed.
Her second sister, Lyra, turned her head slowly, her face calm despite the energy swirling through the hall. "You're wasting strength on pride again, Sister."
Raven's smile was beautiful — and terrifying.
In a single breath, the golden aura surged outward, whipping through the air like a cyclone. The servants hiding nearby ducked behind pillars, too terrified to even breathe.
Lyra's feet lifted off the ground as an invisible force seized her by the throat.
The older sister's eyes glowed with fury as she raised her hand higher, and Lyra was dragged upward with it, choking, feet dangling inches above the floor.
"How dare you tell me what to do," Raven said softly, her voice shaking with barely restrained rage. "You think because Father pities you — because you were born weak — that your words matter?"
Lyra clawed weakly at the invisible grip around her neck. She could feel her spiritual energy suffocating, what little she possessed sputtering like a dying flame.
"You may be Father's favorite," Raven continued, her golden hair falling over her shoulder as the aura flared brighter, "but that does not change the truth — you are trash, and you always will be."
The second sister tried to speak, her voice strangled by pressure. "…You're proving my point, Raven."
That single whisper was enough to make Raven's fury explode.
With a flick of her hand, she released the pressure — not by mercy, but by force.
Lyra's body was hurled backward through the air, crashing against the marble wall with a deafening crack. Dust and shards of stone filled the air.
The youngest sister, Miralyn, stood at the side, arms crossed loosely.
A faint smile played at her lips, her violet eyes glimmering with amusement.
She didn't move to help either of them.
"Done already, Sister?" Miralyn asked sweetly. "I was beginning to enjoy the performance."
Raven turned sharply toward her, golden eyes blazing.
Miralyn met her gaze, unflinching. "What? You always say weakness deserves punishment. I was just admiring how thorough you are."
For a moment, the two locked eyes — predator and serpent, each assessing the other.
Then Raven snorted, brushing imaginary dust off her robes. "Watch your tongue, little snake. You might end up like her someday."
Miralyn smiled, the faintest hint of mockery in her voice. "Maybe. But not today."
Raven gave her one last glare before turning away, her golden aura fading as she walked down the corridor, her heels echoing like drumbeats of authority.
When she was gone, Miralyn looked down at the second sister — Lyra — who was slowly pushing herself off the floor, bruised but alive.
"You really should stop provoking her," Miralyn said softly. "You know how she gets."
Lyra coughed, blood on her lip, but her eyes remained calm. "And you should stop enjoying it."
Miralyn's smile widened — just slightly.
Meanwhile, outside the Enchanted Palace, Crystal's carriage had already rolled to a stop beneath the crimson banners fluttering in the wind.
She stepped down gracefully, her jade cloak glinting under the faint sunlight that broke through the clouds.
Her maid, Mari, followed close behind, clutching a small pouch nervously.
"My lady," Mari whispered as they began walking toward the palace's inner marketplace, "that was… dangerous. What you did back there, I mean."
Crystal raised a brow. "You mean ignoring her?"
Mari nodded frantically. "That was no ordinary noble! Those girls — they're the daughters of the King's Hand! Especially the eldest one, Lady Raven. She's powerful, cruel, and…" Mari lowered her voice, glancing around, "…obsessed with Prince Noah."
Crystal's steps faltered — just a fraction — before she continued walking.
"Obsessed?" she asked, her tone mild.
Mari nodded quickly. "Yes, my lady. It's been whispered for years. She's always wanted him, but because of her father's political standing, she could never make it public. The only reason she never tried to force the issue is because you—"
"—did it first," Crystal finished quietly.
Mari winced. "I-I didn't mean—"
Crystal chuckled softly, shaking her head. "No, you're right. I did. I was a fool who mistook obsession for love."
Mari blinked in surprise.
There was no anger in her mistress's tone — only weariness.
But Crystal's gaze hardened slightly. "Go on. What of the others?"
"The second daughter," Mari continued, "Lady Lyra, is strange. She was born without a chaos world. No one really understands how she's even alive. They say her body produces no chaos energy at all — it's like… she exists outside of cultivation itself."
Crystal frowned.
A person without chaos energy? In this world, that was nearly impossible. Chaos was life itself — the breath, the pulse, the soul. To live without it was like walking through eternity blindfolded.
Mari went on, whispering faster now. "Most nobles consider her cursed. Her mother was a concubine, long gone. The only reason she's tolerated is because the King's Hand — their father — still dotes on her."
Crystal nodded slowly. "And the third?"
Mari hesitated, clearly uncomfortable.
"Speak," Crystal said, her tone firm but not unkind.
"The youngest, Lady Miralyn," Mari said carefully, "is your age — fifteen. People call her the 'Silver Serpent.' She's… manipulative. Cunning. She'll do anything to get what she wants, no matter who stands in the way. But she hides it behind a smile that makes people forget what she truly is."
Crystal's lips curved faintly. "Yes. I know."
Mari blinked. "You… do?"
Crystal's gaze drifted toward the distance, her expression unreadable.
In her past life, Miralyn had been her closest ally — her right hand, her confidant, her sister-in-arms. Together, they had led the Asura Army across nations, crushed rebellions, and conquered lands in the name of Asterion.
And then, when the tides turned, when betrayal had soaked the soil in blood — it was Miralyn who stood behind Noah when the blade struck her down.
At the time, Crystal hadn't understood.
Now, reborn with knowledge of the future, she did.
Miralyn had always been loyal — just not to her.
Crystal's eyes darkened, her reflection glinting in the polished carriage window.
"Every betrayal begins with trust," she murmured. "And I gave her mine."
Mari shivered slightly at the tone in her lady's voice.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't vengeful.
It was… certain.
The certainty of a cultivator who had already seen her own death — and wasn't afraid of it anymore.
Mari, trying to lighten the mood, asked softly, "My lady, do you… know what you'll do now?"
Crystal smiled faintly, the kind of smile that carried both sorrow and resolve. "Yes. I'll do the impossible."
Mari blinked, confused. "You mean—?"
"The soul sea," Crystal said, her eyes lifting toward the sky. "If I can't shape my own world, I'll reshape fate instead."
She paused, her tone lowering. "And as for those sisters…"
The faintest flicker of chaos energy shimmered around her, like a whisper of the storm she once commanded.
"I'll deal with them when the time comes. Whether in three weeks or in another lifetime — every debt will be paid."
The two continued walking, their figures vanishing into the bustling streets of Asterion.
But somewhere, far behind them, in the third-floor corridor of the Enchanted Palace, a girl with violet eyes watched their retreating backs through a window.
Miralyn's smile lingered — soft, curious, dangerous.
"Welcome back to the game, Crystal," she whispered. "Let's see if you've really changed."
"He who masters the blade conquers the body. He who masters the heart conquers the world." — Old Chaos Sect Teaching