The royal corridor outside King Tiān Lóngxuān's chamber was tranquil.
No guards.
No maids.
Not even the echo of distant voices.
Only silence. The kind that held its breath.
As Prince Tiān Jùn approached, the heavy door creaked open on its own, ancient, obedient to the will of blood.
Lanterns bathed the room in a dim golden glow, casting shadows that flickered like silent witnesses.
King Tiān Lóngxuān stood near the center, his face carved in stone, unreadable yet commanding.
"Welcome, son..." he said, voice firm, yet low.
Tiān Jùn dropped to his knees immediately, bowing until his forehead kissed the polished floor. His breath was steady, reverent.
"Thank you, Your Highness, for this honor. I bring greetings from the western governor of Huoyuan..."
"That's not why I called you here," the King interrupted coldly. "Stand up."
Tiān Jùn's brows furrowed, but he obeyed.
"Father?"
Without another word, the King turned his back and began to walk.
"Follow me."
There was no explanation. No glance back.
Just the sound of their footsteps, echoing through stone and memory.
They passed into a quiet corridor, then behind a hidden panel, down, down, down a narrow staircase carved from ancient stone. The air grew thick and cold.
Finally, they stopped before a door, thick and round, engraved with runes that shimmered faintly in the dark.
King Tiān Lóngxuān bit his thumb; immediately, blood spilled, and it touched the floor, something only the bloodline could do.
The stone groaned open.
A chill swept over them as they stepped into darkness... and then, as if recognizing them, torches hovering midair burst into flame one by one, revealing the heart of an underground chamber.
An ancient library.
The walls were lined with scrolls older than the kingdom, spell books humming with sealed magic, and glass cases protecting relics that pulsed with silent power.
Tiān Jùn's breath caught in his throat.
But before he could speak, his father did something no son could have imagined.
King Tiān Lóngxuān fell to his knees.
He bowed low, not to his son, but to something older, something sacred.
"Forgive me, Your Holiness."
The room fell still. Time held its breath again.
Tiān Jùn's body glowed. His skin shimmered like dawn through mist. His eyes turned crimson.
He did not speak, not at first.
But when he did, his voice was layered with power, echoing through the stone.
"Lóngxuān... You did well."
He raised a glowing hand, and from the air, a leather-bound spell scroll materialized — alive with sacred symbols that slithered like blood across its cover.
"Take care of my body," said the High Priest, now fully awakened within Tiān Jùn. "Read this... day and night. Else..."
But he didn't finish. The glow dimmed. His knees buckled. The magic dissolved.
Tiān Jùn collapsed, unconscious.
King Tiān Lóngxuān sat frozen.
Staring.
Not at his son, but at his ancestor.
"My son... is the reincarnation of the High Priest."
It was not a question. It was the truth.
And it struck like a thunderclap.
The King gathered himself and teleported Tiān Jùn to the royal physician.
When Queen Yù Yuè heard the news, she nearly broke down. She hurried to visit her son.
Tears spilled from her eyes as she clutched her son's limp hand.
She refused to leave.
She cried beside him until her body gave in, falling asleep with her head resting on the edge of his bed, fingers still laced with his.
Prince Tiān Jùn woke up.
Tiān Jùn stirred.
A cough. Then a groan.
"Why does my head hurt...?"
He blinked into the quiet room, golden light slanting through silk curtains.
He sat up slowly, confusion written all over his face.
"Why is it so quiet...?"
Then, he saw her — his mother, asleep beside him, cheeks dried tears.
"Mum...?"
His voice cracked. "Why do I feel like I'm... new?"
He rose early, long before the palace stirred. The morning sun had barely touched the earth when he slipped out, quiet as a ghost.
His feet carried him to the royal vineyard, rows of dew-kissed vines bathed in gold, where birds whispered secrets and memories swayed with the wind.
He stood beneath the wide-open sky, breathing in the stillness.
It felt like the heavens were watching.
Like they remembered who he had once been.
Back in the healing chamber, Queen Yù Yuè woke up.
Her hand searched the bed, but it was empty.
Her heart skipped.
"Jùn?!"
Panic bled into her voice.
She shot to her feet, trembling. "Jùn!!"
She ran through the halls, past startled servants, her voice breaking as she called his name.
"No.... Not now..."
Then, her mother's heart pulled her. To the vineyard.
She saw a lone figure, tall, still, gazing at the sky like it belonged to him.
Tears blurred her vision as she walked toward him.
"Jùn..." her voice cracked. "Why would you leave like that?"
He turned, startled.
"Mum?"
He rushed to her as if instinct guided him. And she threw her arms around him, sobbing into his chest.
He wrapped his arms around her, held her hand tight, and led her to the edge of the garden.
"Mum... please don't cry," he whispered. "I'm okay. I promise."
Far from the palace, a girl tossed in her bed.
Mò Lián screamed into the night. "Please... let me go!"
Her body was drenched in sweat. Her lips trembled; her eyes were wide, haunted by something no one could see.
Her grandparents rushed in, terrified.
But nothing they did could calm her.
"She's not getting better," her grandmother said. "We must go to the temple."
They sought help from the village priest.
"There is no illness in her body," he said gravely. "But if the dreams persist... You must seek a higher power. I can no longer say what's real and what isn't."
Mò Lián broke down in tears.
Word reached Lord Chen by dawn.
He arrived quickly.
It was evening, and her grandparents sat outside, sorting peas on the balcony.
He entered, nodded to them, and entered the house.
There she was, lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Like she was no longer part of the world.
"Mò Lián..." he whispered.
She turned.
"Father...?"
She rose and ran into his arms.
Tears spilled as he knelt, holding her tight.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice wasn't stable. "I should have come sooner. You remind me too much of your mother. I... I was a coward."
"I've seen her," Mò Lián whispered. "In my dreams. She calls to me, like she's still alive. Father, tell me, where is Mum?"
"You're my daughter," he mumbled. "Come with me. Let me take you home. I'll protect you this time. I'm sorry."
That evening, Lord Chen spoke to his in-laws.
"She's not a child anymore. Let her enjoy before marriage, free and happy. I'll make sure of it."
And then, a knock at the door.
"It's me... Yù Xuān. I came to see Mò Lián."
Her childhood friend burst into the room moments later.
"Mò Lián!"
Mò Lián turned, eyes widened. "Yù Xuān!"
They fell into each other's arms.
"Why did you come?" Mò Lián whispered, voice breaking. "I've missed you so much..."
Yù Xuān smiled through her tears.
"I heard... you're leaving with your dad."