The largest pavilion rose at the heart of the camp, its silken folds stitched with threads that caught the pale shimmer of moonlight. Around it stretched rows of modest, weathered tents—soldiers’ shelters that looked almost fragile in comparison.

  Inside the pavilion, however, warmth and fragrance mingled. A lacquered table laden with polished bowls of spirit fruits glimmered faintly, their skins veined with qi-light. While a pot of herbal tea released thin curls of steam scented with mountain herbs.

  Neither of the two seated within reached for them.

  Princess Xinyue sat straight-backed, her robes a cascade of blue silk, yet her stillness bore the tension of a bowstring drawn taut. A spread of documents rested before her, their seals freshly broken.

  Her gaze moved across them with unhurried precision, yet every so often the arch of her brows tightened. A small crease betraying the weight of what she read. Still, her face remained composed, expression carved into the calm dignity expected of a daughter of the throne.

  Across from her, Uncle Li sat silent, the broad lines of his weathered face half-veiled by shadow. His hand lingered on the arm of the chair, fingers drumming only once before curling inward again. His thoughts were elsewhere, caught between duty and foreboding.

  Only when Xinyue lowered the papers at last, the faint rustle breaking the hush, did he speak.

  “What is it, Princess? News from the capital?”

  Her voice was measured, quiet. “Hmm. As expected. My elder brother has gone before Father, pressing to be named crown prince.”

  Li’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Oh? And what did His Majesty say?”

  “The same hollow comfort he has always given.” She set the documents aside, gaze lifting, calm but edged with unease. “That the title will only fall to one whom he deems worthy. Nothing more.”

  Li inclined his head, lips pressed thin. “And yet you seem…troubled.”

  Xinyue hesitated a breath before answering, her tone carrying a subtle sharpness. “I do not know what Father means by ‘worthy.’ Does he weigh strength? Victories? Or something we all lack? None of us know Father’s mind. Why, then, does my brother press now? It feels wrong. Something does not sit right.”

  Silence stretched as Uncle Li weighed her words. Then, with a low sigh, he answered. “We’ve lingered too long at the borders. By the time news reaches us, the court’s games are already decided. I believe it is time we return. Even if His Majesty’s anger still lingers over your refusal of that marriage proposal, tempers cannot stay forever inflamed. Calm should have returned.”

  Xinyue’s lips curved in the faintest of acknowledgments. “You may be right.”

  The quiet deepened once more. Beyond the pavilion walls, the night carried its muffled breath. The distant crackle of fire pits, the low murmur of guards on watch, the sigh of wind through canvas. Inside, the moonlight spilled through narrow seams, silvering the edge of the table and laying pale lines across the carpet.

  Xinyue rose from her seat. Her steps were measured, deliberate, the hem of her robe whispering against the floor as she paced the confined space. “Whatever the truth,” she murmured, eyes turned toward the slit of night beyond the drapery, “I can feel the real struggle drawing near. Among all my siblings, I am the only one with no patron at court, no hand guiding from behind. When the contest sharpens, that absence will be…troublesome.”

  Li’s reply was gentle, though his gaze remained firm. “It is only so because you never sought the crown. Had it not been for your third brother scheming to use you—to bind influence by offering you to that…trash prince of Xihe—you would still have no reason to contend. That insult lit the will within you. Do not forget.”

  A long breath left Xinyue’s lips, more weary than heated. “The past cannot be altered. What remains is to shape the future—and for that, I require people.”

  Her gaze, unthinking, drifted toward the shadowed outline of a nearby tent. Xiao Lei’s.

  Li noticed, of course. He always did. His voice lowered, carrying a trace of reassurance. “Princess need not worry. In scarcely a year, you have already placed a foothold in this game. That is no small feat.”

  Xinyue’s head tilted slightly, her tone thoughtful now. “Uncle Li…what of Xiao Lei’s cultivation?”

  Li’s brows knit, and he exhaled through his nose. “Hard to say with certainty. That brat must carry some hidden treasure, or perhaps he forced his body with extraordinary pills. The qi about him is unsettled, difficult to read. But from what I can sense, he should be no higher than Qi Awakening—second or third stage, at best.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Her gaze hardened. “Then place him at the lowest position possible when we return.”

  Uncle Li’s voice was low, steady, yet edged with concern.

  “But Princess… should you not place him in the Royal Academy? There, his growth would quicken, and in time he might aid you in the greater struggle. Such a gesture would not only earn his loyalty, but bind his interests to ours. His current strength may be little more than above average, but my readings would never have guided me to him if he were ordinary. Unless—” his gaze flickered toward her, searching— “unless the Princess herself doubts my foresight.”

  The lamplight trembled across the tent walls, painting thin shadows across Xinyue’s face. She let out a soft laugh, light but edged with steel.

  “What is Uncle saying? Xinyue trusts your guidance more than she trusts herself.” Her lips curved faintly, though her eyes remained cold. “It is precisely because I trust you that he must begin from the lowest rung.”

  She leaned back slightly, the silken sleeve of her robe brushing against the arm of her chair, her tone cooling with each word.

  “First—security. If I return and place him straight into the Academy, my siblings will not let it pass. They will pry at him, tempt him, or strike him down before he takes root. Second—ease breeds arrogance. Only when one scrapes for every breath will they learn to value even the smallest opportunity we offer. And third…”

  Her gaze narrowed, her voice lowering, “…though I have faith in Uncle’s foresight, one never places all eggs into a single basket. Before I can trust that he will not betray me, I cannot allow him to rise too swiftly.”

  For a moment the tent was silent, only the faint hiss of the oil lamp filling the air. Uncle Li’s brow furrowed as he weighed her words. At last, he spoke again, his tone firmer.

  “Lowering Xiao Lei too far may backfire. If his potential is as we suspect, others may notice before us. They could steal him away—or worse, cultivate his resentment. Forcing talent into humiliation too soon risks rebellion. And… he has already declared he would never see his sister serve another, not even a Princess. Will such a youth not bury a grudge in his heart if pressed too low?”

  The flame wavered as if caught in his hesitation.

  Xinyue’s lips curved once more, though the mirth did not reach her eyes.

  “Uncle speaks wisely. Yet tell me—when were great rewards ever gained without great risk? This arrangement will last only a short while. Once Xiao Lei begins to show his worth, we will guide him upward. Slowly. A step at a time—until his path leads nowhere else but back to us.”

  Uncle Li regarded her for a long moment, then bowed his head. His silence said more than words as he turned, robes whispering against the ground as he left to prepare for their return to Jinling City.

  The tent quieted. Xinyue remained seated, one hand resting on the carved armrest, her gaze lost in the wavering flame. Her expression softened for the briefest instant, as if the steel beneath had cracked—but her eyes still carried storms not yet broken. Turmoil waited in the days ahead, and she alone would bear its cost.

  ?? — ? — ??

  The next morning, Xiao Lei departed with the caravan. Dawn had barely torn through the horizon. The sky still carried the hushed gray of night, with only a pale wash of sunlight edging the clouds.

  The road stretched ahead, damp with dew, and the air carried the faint chill of yesterday’s mist. Wheels groaned against earth, hooves thudded with steady rhythm, and voices of men and beasts blended into a muted chorus as the company set out.

  It didn’t take long for Xiao Lei to notice the arrangement. The caravan was split into two mirrored columns. Each carried a royal carriage at its centre, flanked by five plainer carts. Even the guards mirrored one another—similar uniforms, similar pacing, all carefully rehearsed. One line was truth, the other deception.

  His brows twitched upward. The mirrored carriages gleamed like something out of another life—too polished, too deliberate. He had seen tricks like this before, staged on glowing screens in his past world. But here, such illusions weren’t for show. They blinded the eye, masked the shadows where blades could wait.

  For Xiao Lei, survival meant something else as well. His first priority was to restore his strength, to bring his body back to its peak. The second was to understand the true reason behind the princess’s generosity. Favour always carried weight. Kindness from power was never simple.

  The caravan pressed onward, the days bleeding one into another in the grind of travel. Two weeks slipped past in the rhythm of wheels and hooves, of campfires burning low and stars sliding across the night. Dust clung to their clothes and skin, the smell of sweat and horses seeping into every breath.

  At last, on the edge of a late afternoon, the outline of a great city rose on the horizon. Its walls loomed vast, dwarfing anything Xiao Lei had known. The road swelled with traffic. Merchants with laden carts, peasants on foot, mounted nobles beneath banners, even wandering cultivators in traveling cloaks.

  The sheer press of humanity dwarfed the gatherings of Fogwood Ridge. There, even a seasonal fair felt crowded; here, the air itself seemed to pulse with movement and intent.

  Only days earlier, Lian had told him of their destination—the capital of the Shanli Kingdom. He had heard the name before, but to see it now with his own eyes was different. The sight struck something deep within him awe, yes, but also caution. A place like this birthed opportunity, but it also swallowed the careless whole.

  Just as his gaze lingered on the looming walls, a shadow slid across the sun. The caravan stirred as one, faces tilting skyward.

  Above them, a figure cut through the heavens. A cultivator soared high, robes trailing like banners in the wind, moving with effortless grace. Murmurs spread through the group, reverence softening every voice.

  Flight—the symbol of true power. Only those who had stepped into the Nascent Soul realm could command the skies unaided. In the entire kingdom, such figures could be counted on two hands. Even the head of the Lei Clan, he had once heard, stood among them.

  Xiao Lei’s eyes narrowed. The others looked upward with awe, whispering dreams of reaching such heights. His own thoughts moved darker, sharper.

  Nascent Soul? Strong, but not unreachable. Unless you stand at the summit, you are still prey. Mountains exist to be climbed—and I don’t intend to linger at the foot for long.

  The shadow of the soaring figure passed, but in Xiao Lei’s chest, an ember of resolve burned hotter, clearer.

  Favourite button, drop a rating, write a review, and leave a comment—I read them all (even the unhinged ones). Your support fuels my writing, and hey… maybe the protagonist will suffer slightly less if you do. No guarantees though! ??

  [Click here to head to the main page!]

  Destiny Reckoning. It’s set in the same universe, and you definitely don’t want to miss it, because the stories will eventually crossover.