The evening air in Heaven Dou City was cool and crisp, carrying the distant sounds of a city settling down for the night. Zhang Tian walked through the opulent, manicured gardens of the Imperial Palace, his steps slow and deliberate, a single, solitary figure moving through a world of silent, sculpted beauty. The palace guards who had escorted him from the East Gate remained a respectful distance behind, their presence a silent, formal acknowledgment of his new, elevated status.
He was on his way to his "private tea" with Qian Renxue.
As he walked, his mind was a quiet, contemplative storm.
'Dealing with this woman is going to be dangerous,' he thought, his gaze sweeping over the perfectly pruned hedges and the glowing, magical flowers that lined the path. 'I never wanted to involve myself with her, not really. The web of intrigue that surrounds her, the one that leads directly to that crazy woman, Bibi Dong… it's a vortex. To step into it is to risk being consumed.'
He had his own plans, his own ambitions. He had his two beautiful, loving fiancées. He had his secret, magnificent Empress. He had a life that was already a complex, beautiful, and incredibly dangerous game of his own making. He didn't need to add the future Queen of the Spirit Hall to the mix.
And yet…
He couldn't deny the strange, compelling pull he felt towards her.
'She is a tragic figure,' he mused, his mind drifting to the knowledge of his past life, to the story he had once read as a simple piece of fiction. 'Born with a divine talent, the Seraphim Spirit, a gift that should have made her the most cherished jewel of her generation. She has a loving, impossibly powerful grandfather who dotes on her. But her father… he was killed. And her mother… Bibi Dong… the woman who should have been her greatest source of love and support, gave her nothing but a lifetime of cold, hard hatred.'
He remembered the original story. He remembered her spending nearly twenty long, grueling years in this very palace, her youth, her prime years of cultivation, all sacrificed in a desperate, futile attempt to earn a single scrap of recognition from a mother who was incapable of giving it.
'And in the end,' he thought, a flicker of genuine, pitying sympathy in his eyes, 'she becomes the Angel God, only to be despicably dealt with by Tang San. Broken, crippled, her divinity shattered, not just by him, but by the other gods who so blatantly cheated to ensure their chosen successor's victory.'
He had initially decided to avoid her, to leave her to her tragic fate. He had been careful. He knew he didn't possess the raw, overwhelming power to simply walk up and change her destiny. He didn't have the confidence, the sheer, unadulterated arrogance, to believe he could deal with the fallout of pursuing a woman like Qian Renxue. To enter her world was to risk having to submit to her, to the Spirit Hall. And that was a fate he would never accept. The relationship had to be an equal one. A partnership where he held, at the very least, equal control.
But now… now things were different. She had come to him. The game had started, whether he wanted it to or not.
A slow, dangerous, and incredibly ambitious idea began to form in the deepest corners of his mind.
'Now that I am involved with her,' he thought, a dark, calculating light in his eyes, 'perhaps… perhaps I can use her. Not just as an ally for the sect. But as a key. A key to unlock the most dangerous, most powerful, and most broken woman in the world.'
Bibi Dong.
He knew the risks. 'She is a true monster,' he mused. 'A woman driven mad by grief, by betrayal, and by the corrupting influence of the Rakshasa God. Her entire, fragile psyche is built around a single, obsessive pillar of light: her twisted, unrequited love for that worthless theorist, Yu Xiaogang.'
To attempt to replace that pillar, to insert himself into the very core of her being… it was not just a foolish attempt. It was a life-threatening one. One wrong move, one miscalculation, and she would not hesitate to annihilate him, his lovers, and his entire sect.
'But the reward…' he thought, his heart giving a small, traitorous leap of pure, unadulterated ambition. 'If I could do it… if I could replace that pathetic waste of space in her heart with myself… she would be a force of nature at my command. Her obsessive, all-consuming love… to be the recipient of that… it would be like having the entire world in the palm of my hand.'
He let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh.
'Oh, well,' he thought, a faint, wry smile touching his lips as he saw the designated meeting place, a beautiful, secluded pavilion in the center of a tranquil lake, come into view. 'We will see how it goes.'
He reached the pavilion. The two Titled Douluos, She Long and Ci Xue, were nowhere to be seen. He cast out a subtle, probing tendril of his Blood Silver Domain, using the damp moss and the water reeds that grew around the lake as his eyes and ears. He found them easily, hidden in the shadows of the nearby trees, their auras perfectly concealed. They were watching, waiting.
Qian Renxue stood in the center of the pavilion, her back to him, her gaze fixed on the shimmering, moonlit surface of the lake. She had changed her clothes. She now wore a simple, yet incredibly elegant, pale-yellow gown that seemed to capture and reflect the soft light of the moon. Her long, golden hair cascaded down her back, a river of pure, liquid light.
She looked… beautiful. Peaceful. A world away from the cold, calculating prince or the divine, imperious goddess he had met before.
She had clearly prepared for their meeting. A small, low table of polished jade stood between two comfortable-looking cushions. A delicate, porcelain tea set sat on the table, a thin wisp of fragrant steam rising from the spout of the teapot.
She turned as he approached, a soft, welcoming smile on her perfect lips.
"Zhang Tian," she said, her voice a low, melodic murmur. "You came."
He offered her a polite, formal bow. "Miss Qian Renxue. You invited me."
She just chuckled, a soft, musical sound that seemed to dance on the quiet night air. "Please," she said, gesturing to the cushion opposite her. "There is no need for such formalities between us. Be casual. You may call me Renxue. Or, if you prefer, you may call me Xue'er."
He sat, his movements fluid and graceful. 'Xue'er?' he thought, a flicker of amusement in his mind. 'So intimate already. She is not wasting any time.'
"And I," she continued, her violet eyes shining with a warm, friendly light as she poured him a cup of tea, "will simply call you Zhang Tian. If that is alright with you?"
"It is," he replied simply, accepting the cup.
She looked at him, and her expression was one of genuine, unfeigned sincerity. "I must admit," she began, her voice a low, intimate murmur, "I am happy to have this meeting. I have been wanting to speak with you privately, like this, ever since that day. The day you told me how you had discovered my identity. A secret that I have kept hidden from the entire world for… twelve long years."
Zhang Tian took a slow, calming sip of the tea. It was a rare, fragrant blend, a treasure that was likely worth a small fortune.
"I was just lucky," he said, his voice a humble, self-deprecating sound. "And I had the resources of the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect at my disposal. Without their information network, I would never have been able to connect the dots. Even then, it was just a wild guess. A shot in the dark."
She just smiled, a look that said she didn't believe a word of his humble deflection. "A lucky guess, then," she said, her tone indulgent. "In any case, the game is over. I have found a replacement. A doppelganger. He is performing my duties as the Crown Prince now. What do you think of that?"
He thought for a moment, then gave a slow, approving nod. "It is a prudent decision," he said, his voice one of genuine, professional respect. "And one that you should have made from the very beginning. You are a person of immense, almost divine, talent, Renxue. To waste twelve of your prime cultivation years playing the part of a crown prince… it is a crime against the heavens themselves."
He looked at her, and his praise was genuine, a calculated but sincere acknowledgment of her power. "If you had been cultivating diligently all these years, instead of attending boring court meetings and managing the petty squabbles of nobles, you would not just be a Spirit King. You would be a Spirit Saint by now. Perhaps even higher."
A brilliant, pleased blush spread across her beautiful cheeks. His praise, his recognition of her wasted potential, was a soothing, intoxicating balm to her proud, arrogant soul.
"I was… arrogant," she admitted, her voice a soft, almost confessional whisper. "My talent… it made me believe that I could do anything. That a few wasted years would not matter. That is… until you appeared. Until you shattered that arrogance."
He just shook his head, a wry, self-deprecating smile on his lips. "My own talent is nothing to speak of. I was born with an innate spirit power of Level 0.5. A trash-tier talent. It was only through the help of many people, and by taking advantage of many heaven and earth treasures, that I have managed to reach this stage. If I had been forced to rely solely on myself, I would likely still be struggling to reach the rank of a Spirit Grandmaster."
"And that," she said, her violet eyes shining with a new, profound admiration, "is what makes you even more amazing. To start with nothing, and to reach such a height… it is a testament to a will, and an intellect, that is far more valuable than mere innate talent."
The atmosphere between them was now a comfortable, easy one, a shared, mutual respect between two brilliant, powerful individuals.
He looked at her, his expression turning more serious, more probing. "But that brings me to a question that has been bothering me, Renxue," he said, his voice a low, curious sound. "Why? Why did you act as the Crown Prince yourself? For twelve long years? Surely, you must have considered using a doppelganger from the very beginning. If not you, then your grandfather, Qian Daoliu, a man of immense wisdom and foresight, he must have suggested it to you. So why didn't you?"
Qian Renxue's soft, happy smile faltered. The warm, comfortable atmosphere around them suddenly turned cold, tense. She looked down at her teacup, her expression unreadable.
She was silent for a long, heavy moment.
Then, she looked up at him, and her violet eyes were shining with a strange, challenging light.
"You are asking me that question," she said, her voice a low, quiet sound, "which means you have already thought about it yourself. You must have your own theory. So, tell me, Zhang Tian. I wish to hear what you think. Why do you think I did it?"
He held her gaze, and he knew this was a test. A crucial one.
He took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea, gathering his thoughts.
"I have indeed thought about it," he began, his voice a low, analytical murmur. "And I believe… that the answer is connected to the timeline. To the event that occurred thirteen years ago."
He saw a flicker of something, a hint of a deep, profound pain, in her eyes.
"The death of your father. At the hands of Tang Hao."
He pressed on, his deductions a slow, careful, and incredibly insightful dissection of her very soul.
"I believe," he said, his voice a soft, almost gentle sound, "that by personally taking on this immense, difficult, and thankless task, by sacrificing your own youth, your own potential… you were trying to prove something. Not just to the world, but to someone. Or perhaps… to yourself."
He looked at her, at the beautiful, powerful, and deeply, profoundly broken woman who sat before him.
"It must have been something very significant," he concluded, his voice a soft, final note, "to make you so obsessed."
He finished speaking, and the silence that followed was a profound, deafening thing.
He was uncomfortable. He had expected her to be angry, to be defensive. But she was not.
She was just… looking at him.
And the look in her eyes… it was a look he had never seen before. It was not admiration. It was not respect. It was a raw, unfiltered, and utterly, completely, and terrifyingly crazed look of pure, unadulterated infatuation.
It was the look of a starving woman who had just been shown a feast. It was the look of a drowning person who had just been thrown a lifeline.
It was the look of a lonely goddess who had just, for the first time in her long, solitary life, found someone who truly, completely, and utterly… saw her.
And even with her holy, otherworldly aura, even with her divine, breathtaking beauty, that look… it was a deeply, profoundly, and incredibly thrilling thing.
Zhang Tian glanced down at the small, delicate teacup that sat before her on the jade table, its contents now likely lukewarm.
"Your tea is getting cold," he said, his voice a calm, simple, and utterly mundane statement that was a stark, jarring contrast to the intense, almost supernatural atmosphere that had developed between them.
The words, so simple, so normal, were like a splash of cold water.
Qian Renxue blinked, and the crazed, obsessive light in her violet eyes receded, replaced by a flicker of something else. Embarrassment. A faint, beautiful blush, the color of a pale sunrise, crept up her neck and dusted her flawless cheeks. She quickly looked away, her gaze falling to her own hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap.
She let out a long, slow, and strangely weary sigh. It was a sound of profound, utter surrender.
"You truly see everything about me, don't you?" she whispered, her voice a low, soft murmur that was almost lost in the quiet night air. She didn't look at him. She couldn't. To meet his gaze now would be to expose the raw, bleeding wound in her soul that he had so effortlessly, so precisely, laid bare.
"You are right," she admitted, her voice gaining a fraction of its usual, regal strength, but it was a brittle, fragile thing. "About most of it. I… I was obsessed."
She took a deep, shuddering breath. "It was a very… personal matter. That caused me to do it. To sacrifice so much of my life to act as the Crown Prince Xue Qinghe. I… I was trying to earn someone's approval."
Her hands clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists in her lap. "That person… is my mother."
She still did not name her. The title of Supreme Pontiff, the name Bibi Dong, it was a wound too deep, too raw to be spoken aloud in this moment of profound, painful vulnerability.
"For twelve long years," she continued, her voice now a low, bitter sound, filled with a pain that was so deep, so ancient, it seemed to have been etched into her very soul, "that was my only goal. My only purpose. I would work tirelessly. I would master the arts of governance, of politics, of deception. I would crush my rivals and conquer this Heaven Dou Empire for the Spirit Hall. And every year, on the anniversary of my father's death, I would return to the Spirit Hall."
She looked up then, and her violet eyes were shining with unshed tears. "And every time, I would stand before her. I would present my achievements, my progress, my absolute, unwavering devotion to the grand plan. And every time… she would just look at me. With those cold, empty eyes. And there would be nothing. No praise. No recognition. No… nothing."
The last word was a choked, broken whisper, a sound of such profound, hopeless despair that it was a physical thing in the quiet pavilion.
Zhang Tian just watched her, a silent, analytical observer. He felt a flicker of something, a hint of a cold, academic pity for this beautiful, powerful, and so obviously broken woman.
He let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh of his own. "I do not know the specifics of your situation," he said, his voice a calm, gentle, and utterly detached sound. "It is… rare, for a mother to harbor such a deep and abiding hatred for her own child. To force her to do something like this."
He looked at her, and his advice was not one of comfort, but of pure, cold, unadulterated logic.
"It seems to me," he said, his voice a low, analytical murmur, "that you are approaching this problem from the wrong angle. Instead of continuing this futile, and clearly painful, quest for an approval that may never come, have you ever considered trying to find the reason for her hatred? For her detest towards you?"
Qian Renxue stared at him, the tears in her eyes forgotten. His words, so logical, so direct, were a stark, brilliant light in the dark, emotional maze she had been trapped in for her entire life.
A short, bitter, and humorless laugh escaped her lips. "You think I have not thought of this?" she asked, her voice a mixture of frustration and a new, dawning respect for his sharp, analytical mind. "Of course, I have. For years."
She looked away, her gaze once again falling to the shimmering, moonlit surface of the lake. "But it is a wall I cannot break through. My grandfather… he knows. I am certain of it. He knows the truth. But he will not tell me. Every time I ask, he just sighs and tells me that it is a pain I should not have to bear."
She turned back to him, and her expression was one of profound, utter frustration. "And no one else knows! The other elders of the Spirit Hall, they either do not know, or they are too afraid of my mother, and of my grandfather, to speak of it. It is a secret locked away in the very heart of the Spirit Hall, a secret to which I, the Young Miss, have been denied the key."
She looked at him then, and the cold, hard mask of the goddess, the prince, the powerful, untouchable Young Miss, finally, completely, shattered.
She looked at him, and she was just a girl. A lonely, confused, and deeply, profoundly hurt girl.
She leaned forward, her hands clasped together on the jade table, a gesture of pure, unadulterated supplication.
"But you…" she whispered, her voice a small, hopeful, and incredibly vulnerable sound. "You are different. With your intelligence… you see things that others do not. You see the patterns, the inconsistencies. You saw through my disguise. You found me."
She looked up, and her violet eyes, now stripped of all their divine authority, all their cold, regal pride, were filled with a desperate, pleading light.
"Can you help me?" she asked, her voice a choked, broken whisper. "Can you help me investigate it? Can you help me find the truth?"
Her voice rose slightly, a new, almost manic conviction in her tone. "With your mind… you can do it, can't you? You can find the answer!"
~~
A/N: Check out my other novels like "Harem Master: Seduction System" and the "Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist" and I hope you like this story and those stories as well.
Check out more chapters on my P.atreon. The P.atreon will have 20+ Chapters ahead for this story. I hope you like it.
The link of p.atreon is: bit.ly/evildragon