While Xiao Lei settled in the Royal Academy, weighing plans and possibilities, Lian remained motionless, a solitary figure in the quiet of their chamber. Before her lay a scattered assortment of herbs, their colours muted yet vibrant, their scents faint but insistent, curling in the cool morning air.

  In only a few months, her life had been unrecognizably altered. She, once treated as a princess by her grandfather, was forced to look for her father and seen the hollowness behind the promises of blood and kinship.

  Those words—family, loyalty, love—meant so little when placed against the cruelty of reality. She had left it all, leaving behind family and promises, to follow Xiao Lei into an uncertain path. Now, even as he remained close in distance, a few streets and alleys away, he felt impossibly distant, the gap between them as sharp and tangible as a blade’s edge.

  Her hands hovered over the herbs, almost reluctant, almost reverent. Each leaf, each root, seemed to whisper of mastery she could claim, power she could cultivate. There was no longer a desire merely to keep pace or survive. The words he had spoken—the guidance he had offered—were her foundation, but she would build more atop it, stronger than the fragile girl who had arrived in Duskwillow City months ago.

  The events of yesterday, the fear of losing him, had carved something new into her resolve. The determination to avoid being a burden had mutated into something sharper, hotter, more precise.

  She would not simply follow Xiao Lei, she would shield him from harm. She would be the barrier no enemy could breach, the sword that struck before any threat could even approach.

  Her chest rose and fell in steady rhythm. She closed her eyes, letting the weight of her thoughts settle like sediment in still water. When she opened them again, innocence was gone, drained away by experience, replaced by a strange, luminous focus that seemed to burn just beneath her skin.

  Her heart throbbed with emotions she could not yet name—something protective, something dangerous, something that promised devastation if unleashed.

  She reached for a sprig of herb, examining its veins and fibres as if the plant itself could reveal its secrets to her. Her fingers traced patterns, memorized textures, absorbed essence.

  Each motion, glance, and inhalation carried intent; her hands moved with deliberation, precise and unerring. Unknown to anyone else, this quiet, deliberate practice was the first step of a transformation that would eventually ripple far beyond the city walls.

  Her fingers traced each vein, memorizing texture and handling each sprig with precise, measured intent. No slip, no hesitation—she would master this, and herself along with it.

  The world had taught her its cruelty, and she would respond in kind—not through reckless anger, but through measured, calculated power.

  As she worked, the chamber seemed to shrink around her, the air heavy with unspoken intent. The girl who had once played among flowers and silk was fading. In her place rose a new presence—an intellect sharpened by pain, a will steeled by loyalty. Her determination burned so fiercely that even her name would one day make the world shudder.

  Her hands moved with careful deliberation as she continued her study, unaware of how quickly the seeds she planted would grow, or of the storm she was beginning to cultivate with each measured movement.

  ?? — ? — ??

  Princess Xinyue stood alone beneath the vast night sky, the stars stretched across the heavens like a scattering of silver shards, yet none of their brilliance could rival her own.

  The distant flicker of lanterns from the banquet illuminated the courtyard, yet she remained in shadow, a solitary figure observing the festivities below. Her elder brother, Prince Guanghan, had hosted the gathering, though the reason for it seemed as elusive as the wind threading through the garden pavilions.

  One by one, officials arrived, their ornate robes brushing the ground with quiet rustle. They approached her with practiced smiles, their words polite but cautious. Eyes flicked to her, recognizing her presence, then quickly away, a fleeting respect tempered by fear or political calculation.

  “Conversations were brief and ceremonial. Some left after a curt nod. Others lingered in whispered gossip before vanishing into the hall. A few bold ministers dared open defiance, their arrogance thinly veiled beneath careful posture, aware that to offend a princess openly required not only power but daring beyond reason.

  A carriage arrived next, wheels glinting in the lamplight. From it descended a young girl whose presence drew immediate attention—her eyes searching until they found Xinyue, alone, luminous as a moon in the shadowed night.

  “Big sister!” the girl’s voice rang out, clear, melodic, cutting through the murmurs of the courtyard. Heads turned as whispers followed in her wake. “Isn’t that Princess Xiuyue? What is she doing here?” another asked, curiosity sharpening each syllable. “I heard she refused Prince Guanghan’s request to support him as crown prince. I didn’t think we’d see her tonight.”

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  The girl approached briskly, grace in every step. She was Xinyue’s younger step-sister, Princess Xiuyue. A peacock beside the swan-like serenity of Xinyue.

  Flashy and unafraid to declare her intentions aloud, she was a study in confidence. Within moments, the sisters embraced, an intimate yet charged gesture amidst the cold scrutiny of their surroundings.

  “Big sister,” Xiuyue chided, a hint of faux anger colouring her words, “it’s been over two months since you returned, yet you never came to see me?”

  Xinyue tucked back a loose strand of Xiuyue’s hair, her voice calm, measured. “You know how things are. I couldn’t risk our meeting being noticed. It might have caused trouble for you, silly girl.”

  “Hmph! Who dares to cause trouble for me?” Xiuyue retorted, pride and amusement mingling in her tone. Her words barely left her lips before laughter cut through the air, crystalline and commanding, drawing every eye in the courtyard.

  Prince Guanghan’s shoulders remained squared, each step measured, his gaze flicking over the assembled guests before settling on Xinyue.

  “Little sister is right—with me here, who dares cause trouble for you?” His words, if taken superficially, might have seemed protective, tender even. But the subtle glint in his eyes, the carefully practiced smile, revealed another truth, calculation, not affection.

  Xiuyue’s gaze sharpened. “What are you doing here, brother?”

  “It’s my banquet, remember?” Guanghan replied, voice smooth as lacquer, glancing briefly at the assembled guests as if to remind them of his dominion.

  “Standing over your guests’ heads isn’t required,” Xiuyue snapped. Her words cut through his composure like frost, brief and unyielding. Guanghan, thick-skinned and politically seasoned, felt the sharpness like a blade against his pride.

  “As expected of Princess Xiuyue,” an official muttered from a distance, admiration and amusement mingled in his voice.

  Guanghan turned to Xinyue, a predatory patience in his gaze. “Dear sister, have you reconsidered my offer?”

  “No,” Xinyue replied, her voice steady, calm. “Even if I had considered it, my answer would remain the same. What’s the point?”

  He let his fingers curl lightly at his sides, jaw flexing briefly, before replying with a smooth, measured smile. “I understand, dear sister. You choose your own path. Forgive your elder brother if I inadvertently offend you—unavoidable as it may be.” With that, he turned and strode away, a tide of presence receding.

  Xiuyue stomped her foot, voice sharp with exasperation, but Guanghan paused, pivoting on one boot. “Dear sister,” he called, a teasing lilt in his words, “I hear you recommended a servant to the Royal Academy. Handsome, I presume, to move your heart so?” And with that, he vanished into the crowd, leaving behind a swirl of murmurs and a faint trace of his scented robe in the night air.

  Xiuyue cursed under her breath, frustration flickering across her features, yet Xinyue’s eyes narrowed. Not even a full day had passed, and Guanghan’s reach, his surveillance, had already touched the matter.

  Her lips curved faintly, a whisper of determination threading through the cool night air. ‘Xiao Lei, your path will not be easy. But if you can walk it, this kingdom will remember your name for decades to come.’

  The stars above flickered, indifferent and eternal, witnessing the prelude of a legend.

  ?? — ? — ??

  Unaware of the world outside, Xiao Lei sat cross-legged in his modest room, the dim morning light barely touching the corners. After a full night of cultivation, he finally opened his eyes.

  A murky breath escaped his lips, dissipating into the cool air, carrying the weight of exhaustion and quiet satisfaction. This was only his second day at the academy, yet he already understood why every young cultivator dreamed of walking these halls.

  The density of qi alone was intoxicating—twice, perhaps thrice, that of anywhere he had ever been, and far surpassing the serene bamboo groves of Fogwood where he had honed his early skills.

  He rose, stretching lightly, feeling the faint ache of muscles worked beyond their accustomed limits. With deliberate care, he adjusted the grey robes of an outer disciple, the cloth whispering against his arms and shoulders.

  The uniform marked him as one among many, yet the silence of his room made him feel singular, someone poised in the soft morning light. His steps carried him out of the room, each one measured, purposeful, toward the Technique Hall. There, he hoped to find cultivation techniques that could sharpen his strength.

  But the gate of the hall blocked him, a barrier of cold authority. A stern guard informed him that no student could enter without academy points. Without them, only mortal-grade techniques were accessible, and only under the direct supervision of an instructor.

  Xiao Lei frowned subtly, his thoughts already calculating. Mortal-grade techniques were of little use. Fleeting sparks were wasted effort for one who sought enduring fire.

  Turning on his heel, he made for the Mission Hall, where academy points could be earned through daring and effort. The hall teemed with movement. Students hurried in flurries of excitement, their robes brushing stone floors as voices murmured, laughed, or shouted commands.

  The place smelled faintly of ink, polished wood, and the earthy tang of qi lingering in the air. At the centre, a massive task board stretched high, listing the missions available and the points promised for completion.

  He assessed each task with intent. They ranged from slaying spirit beasts to gathering herbs, escorting items, and even protecting traveling nobles. He was uninterested in leaving the safety of the academy grounds, seeking instead something manageable yet profitable.

  His eyes settled on a neglected mission. Clearing a section of the academy long sealed and abandoned, overrun with Crying Spiders. The creatures were hardly formidable individually, but their swarming numbers could overwhelm any cultivator below Foundation Establishment. Naturally, few dared claim the task.

  Perfect.

  He stepped to the registration desk, placing his token on the smooth wood with practiced ease. The middle-aged man, accustomed to the constant flow of students, glanced at the token and nodded, already assuming the task would be claimed without dispute.

  Then a ripple of qi surged from behind him, brushing the hairs on his neck and making the token quiver violently. A voice, low but firm, cut through the ambient noise of the hall.

  “I want that mission.”

  Xiao Lei allowed himself a faint smile, drawing a slow, steady breath. His pulse remained even, gaze unwavering. This was the start—calculated calm that would define his path through the Royal Academy.

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