My lord, as soon as I heard your message, I journeyed without pause. I trailed your spiritual energy."
Yán Lǐng bowed deeply, his voice steady but warm.
His Highness stood still, gazing into the sky.
"My Lord?" Yán Lǐng's brow furrowed, sensing that his master's thoughts had wandered far away.
Finally, Prince Tiān Jùn turned to him. His eyes, calm yet burning with intent, held a rare seriousness.
"Yán Lǐng... teach me how to make people like me."
The words were quiet, but they carried a weight that made Yán Lǐng's heart tighten.
"My Lord," he began gently, "no one can resist you, even with your imposter face. Your presence alone bends hearts—even gods find themselves drawn to your aura. What are men compared to that? You do not need tricks or charms. You are everything a creature could beg for."
He paused before completing his word.
"Amid your sins lies a holiness that cannot be denied. May you live long, Your Highness. You are no one but the heir to the throne, blessed with a power both spectral and mysterious, one that no being can rival. And though you are not a man of arrogance, your worth is already recognized. I am always at your service."
He faced the open air.
Tiān Jùn's lips curved into a smile. Then, unexpectedly, he burst into laughter.
"Ha! Yán Lǐng... don't you get it?"
Still chuckling, he reached out and pulled his loyal companion up from his bow.
"I want her parents to like me... and feel at ease."
Yán Lǐng's smirk was slow and knowing. "My Lord... that is very simple."
After a quiet exchange of plans, the two set off.
But as they approached the outskirts, an incident interrupted their path. A troop of soldiers was parading nearby, too close. Too watchful.
Tiān Jùn gave a subtle gesture. Yán Lǐng would go on alone.
—
At Lord Chen's door, a sound broke the household's quiet.
Knock. Knock... Knock. Knock.
Inside, Lord Chen and his sister froze mid-conversation. Their eyes met in silent question. Together, they crept toward the door, footsteps soft as whispers.
When his sister opened it, her breath caught in her throat.
The figure standing there was... otherworldly. The surrounding air shimmered faintly with ethereal energy so intense it made her skin prickle.
Lord Chen leaned to peek past her, and the moment his eyes met that aura, his knees weakened. The pressure was suffocating, impossible to resist. He could not move without bowing.
Yán Lǐng blinked, realizing too late that his imposter face had faded.
Immediately, he stepped back, lowering his head in apology. He saw the siblings already bowing deeply, foreheads nearly touching the floor. With deliberate will, he pulled his energy back, dimming it until the air lightened.
"Lord Chen," he said respectfully, lifting them gently to their feet, "I apologize for disturbing your peace. His Highness sent me. Please accept these humble gifts."
He held out a leather sack heavy with gold coins.
The siblings exchanged wide-eyed glances before stepping aside to welcome him in. But before they could even speak, he was gone—vanished like smoke on the wind.
—
Elsewhere, the lieutenant general of the South knelt in the dust.
"My Lord, we are sorry. It will never happen again," he pleaded.
But Prince Tiān Jùn's expression was unreadable. He had heard too many gossip about soldiers exploiting civilians, bleeding them of coin and dignity.
His voice dropped, cold as steel. "Bring in all those responsible."
The air shifted. He released his power.
The lieutenant general buckled under the crushing weight, knees digging into the earth. Some soldiers gasped for breath before their legs gave way entirely. The weaker ones collapsed unconscious, trembling as if the air itself had turned to stone.
Something weird ignited within him.
They threw the guilty soldiers at the prince's feet. They writhed in agony, crying out as an invisible magma seared into their very flesh.
Tiān Jùn hadn't moved a finger. His power alone was punishment enough.
And yet... his mercy still lived.
Before the fire could consume them entirely, he pulled it back, allowing breath to return to their lungs. The weight lifted slightly. However, the lesson would remain etched in their souls.
"My lord."
The quiet voice stirred Prince Tiān Jùn from his thoughts. He turned slightly, already recognizing the presence behind him.
Yán Lǐng stood there, head bowed. "I delivered your message."
"Good." Tiān Jùn's tone was calm, almost distant. "Gather information about the state of this region. Prepare, we are leaving soon."
Before Yán Lǐng could reply, the prince dissolved into the air like smoke.
His gaze lingered on the space where his master had stood. A faint shiver crawled down his spine.
Why is that side of him awake?
He thought grimly.
—
At Lord Chen's house, the night moon was bright; its rays fell in Mò Lián's dark room, shadows stretching across the walls like whispers.
In the farthest corner, unseen yet ever-present, Prince Tiān Jùn watched. His eyes lingered on the sleeping form of Mò Lián. A slow smirk tugged at his lips.
She slept peacefully, her breathing soft, until something shifted. A strange warmth brushed the side of her neck — too warm to be natural, too deliberate to be the wind.
Her brow furrowed. The heat faded, only to return stronger. Her eyes fluttered open.
And she saw him.
Before she could draw breath, the air thickened—pressing down on her chest like an invisible hand.
The air itself trembled.
His form shifted before her eyes. His gaze ignited, molten gold searing the darkness, and his hair cascaded in rippling waves as though every strand carried its own storm. He straightened.
And then—they weren't alone.
Another presence bled into the room, cold and spectral. A ghostly figure unfurled from the shadows, its body a blur of smoke and bone, its eyes two pits of endless night.
The ghostly figure drifted toward Mò Lián, its form shifting like smoke, hunger etched in its hollow eyes.
She shrank back, trembling, clutching at the blanket as fear tightened her breath.
Tiān Jùn could endure no longer. Power surged through him, his restraint snapping like glass.
In a single motion, he unleashed his power—violent, unrelenting. The air thickened, humming with pressure, the room itself bending beneath the weight of his release.
No sound tore the night, but the silence was deafening. His energy struck like an unseen blade, flinging the phantom back, scattering its form into fractured wisps.
Golden light still shimmered around him, the prince standing tall, his aura searing through the darkness.
In a heartbeat, they clashed. The walls of her room were too small to contain them. In a whirl of flashing light and distorted air, they burst into the open night.
The tension snapped.
Power detonated between them, rattling the walls, shaking the floor beneath her feet. In the blink of an eye, they clashed—Tiān Jùn's strike burning with divine fire, the creature's counters slick with venomous shadows.
The walls of her chamber shuddered, too fragile to cage gods and monsters. With a cry of tearing wood and bursting air, the battle tore into the night sky.
The courtyard exploded with light. Flashes of fire and shadow tangled like serpents in the dark. Tiān Jùn's movements were sharp, merciless, his power rippling with every blow—but the phantom was quicker, its shape twisting unnaturally, its spells like poisoned chains.
In one strike, shadows lashed out, binding him, coils tightening around his limbs. His body froze mid-struggle, golden eyes flaring with fury.
Then the creature turned to her.
In the blink, it was inside.
Its towering form filled the room, the air turning cold as death. It extended a long, skeletal hand, curling its fingers in a silent command. Come.
Her whole body rebelled. She sat up, rocking her head, clutching the curtain as if it were a shield. Her breath came ragged, eyes brimming with hot tears. The thing advanced, its aura spilling into her bones, sinking hooks into her soul.
Closer. Closer.
Her lips parted in a broken whisper—then—
A blast like thunder split the night.
The creature screamed, its body flung backward, unraveling into smoke that dissolved into nothingness.
And there he was—
emerged from the storm.
Tiān Jùn.
His chest heaved, his golden eyes locked on hers, burning with a wild, unearthly fire.
But he wasn't standing proud anymore. His form wavered, his golden eyes dimmed, and he slumped onto the floor.
Mò Lián's grip on the curtain didn't loosen. Her body was stiff with fear; she gasped.
A faint, familiar call broke the silence.
"Mò... Lián..."
Her chest tightened.
"It's me," the voice rasped again, weaker this time. "Your Jùn... Mò Lián."
Recognition slammed into her. She climbed off the bed, rushing to him.
"Jùn! Jùn!" Her voice cracked as tears spilled freely.
She managed to hold him up, guiding his weight to the bed.
Under the dim light, she saw the state of him—his clothes torn, a deep bruise blooming across his shoulder.
Panic flared in her chest. She ran for the herbs and hot towels kept in the kitchen cabinet. By the time she returned, his breathing was ragged but steady.
She sat beside him, grinding the leaves into a poultice. "Hold still," she whispered, reaching for his shoulder.
Without a word, he stripped his upper robe.
Her hands froze mid-air, her eyes widening.
"Don't be confused," he murmured, guilt flickering in his gaze. "I'm sorry."
Her breath hitched at the sight of him, not just the bruises, but the long, embedded thorn stretching dangerously close to his chest.
She forced herself to focus. Her hands were gentle but sure as she pressed the healing paste to his wounds, cleaning the gash with careful strokes of the hot towel.
The silence was suffocating, pressing on Mò Lián's chest until even her breath felt heavy. She still could not bring herself to speak.
After tending carefully to his wound, she gathered the bloodied towel and returned it to the kitchen. She trashed some things.
When she came back, the room was quiet, dimly lit by the faint glow of the night outside. Tiān Jùn had already surrendered to sleep, his face softened, stripped of its usual power—almost fragile, almost human.
She stood there for a moment, unmoving, her heart aching with unspoken words. Slowly, she sank onto the bed; her gaze locked on his innocent face, the memory of what had happened earlier burning at the back of her mind.
At last, she lay down behind him, her body turned toward the wall, her presence close enough to feel his warmth, yet distant enough to hide her trembling heart.