A Drunken Visit
"Tons… tons… ha!"
With a wine jar swinging casually in one hand and his steps weaving crookedly, Lu Yuan swaggered toward the Heaven Dou Imperial Palace like he owned the place.
"Stop!" A squadron of royal cavalry quickly closed in, steel flashing as their blades drew out in unison.
"Who's this drunk bastard daring to approach the Imperial Palace?!"
The guards encircled Lu Yuan like a coiled dragon, their captain barking orders.
Lu Yuan squinted at them, lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Oh? You guys want to fight? Good! I love fighting."
"Drunkard daring insult to royal majesty—bring him down!" the captain roared.
But the moment Lu Yuan's long sword slid free, everything changed.
A burst of Sword Qi exploded outward. Warhorses—the pride of the Imperial stables, trained to endure fire and battle drums—wailed in terror, neighing madly as the formation collapsed. Even the hardened cavalry gripped their reins desperately as fear surged down their spines.
The captain's courage faltered instantly. His lips trembled. That black flame dancing on the blade—it was like staring into the abyss.
"STOP!"
At that moment, a clear, commanding voice rang out.
The guards jolted to their knees. "Your Highness!"
"Little Xuexue"
"Ha! Little Xuexue!"
Before Xue Qinghe could react, Lu Yuan stumbled forward and caught the refined prince in a bear hug as though greeting his best drinking buddy.
Xue Qinghe's expression froze, mortified. Little… Xuexue? In front of so many people?!
"Brother Lu Yuan," he said quickly through gritted teeth, "are you here to see me?"
Lu Yuan laughed loudly. "Of course! I came to drink with you. What else?"
"…The token I gave you last time—why didn't you use it?"
Lu Yuan tilted his head drunkenly. "Token? Did you give me that? Hmm… don't remember."
Xue Qinghe's mouth twitched nervously. Had he remembered wrong? Damn it—maybe he had drunk too much that day. Sighing, he quickly unclasped a pendant from around his neck. A golden swan etched into the jade glowed faintly.
"This swan-shaped pendant will serve as a proper token. With it, you may come to me anytime."
Lu Yuan snatched it, sniffed it like it was wine, then bit down with a satisfied click. "Milky taste! Good! Haha, Xuexue, let's go drink!" He threw an arm across the prince's shoulders, dragging him palace-ward.
"…Next time we hug," Xue Qinghe begged wearily, "please don't… touch my backside again."
"…"
Behind them, the Royal Guard stared with slack jaws.
Who in the world was this drunkard, who terrified even their warhorses, yet treated the Crown Prince like a drinking buddy… even slapping his royal butt?!
Nothing about their relationship looked normal.
Wine Brothers
Inside the palace, Lu Yuan wasted no time uncorking another jar.
"Brother Lu Yuan," Qinghe said cautiously, eyes narrowing, "you didn't come this time just to drink, did you?"
"Tons… tons… tons… ha! Didn't you say I can drink with you anytime? So here I am!"
"Of course, you're always welcome," Qinghe replied carefully, masking suspicion.
"Good! Then I'll stay here tonight."
"Cough… Brother, that may be… inconvenient."
"What inconvenience? Your bed's big enough for two. What's the problem?"
"…No."
Lu Yuan pouted exaggeratedly. "Stingy! Forget it then. Just give me two jars of tribute wine for the road. I'll be heading out for a while."
Qinghe's suspicion deepened. Just two jars? Impossible. But outwardly, he smiled calmly. "Fine, I'll have someone fetch them."
"No need! I'll come myself." Lu Yuan looped his arm around Qinghe again. "You take me there!"
They soon arrived at the palace's wine cellar—an underground treasury spanning nearly a thousand square meters, filled with rows upon rows of rare tribute wines gleaming under lantern-light.
The moment Lu Yuan laid eyes on it, his face shone brighter than sunlight.
"Oi, got a Soul Guidance Device?!"
"What for?"
"Storing wine!"
Normally he never cared—the altar he carried at his hip was enough for daily drinking. But this? This was heaven itself.
Xue Qinghe opened his mouth, then froze under that fiery gaze. With a resigned sigh, he handed him two Soul Guidance Devices.
Hours passed. Lu Yuan staggered happily through the cellar, drinking, sniffing, and selecting with absurd seriousness. By midnight, he had stuffed hundreds of jars into three different devices.
Qinghe silently buried his face in his hand. Didn't he say two?
Suddenly… Seraphim
Back in Lu Yuan's chambers, the drunken youth tossed the soul bone Xue Beng had gifted him onto the table.
"This thing's useless. Too gentle. Not my style. You be a good Xuexue and swap me for an explosive soul bone instead."
Qinghe's eyebrow twitched. "Do you think I sell soul bones at a marketplace?"
But before the conversation could spiral, Lu Yuan flopped heavily onto the bed, wine jar clutched like a teddy bear. Within moments, he was snoring.
Qinghe pinched the bridge of his nose. Trying to win over a future powerhouse? No… this guy feels more like an enemy sent to torment me.
Still, he sighed, lifting Lu Yuan carefully and laying him properly on the bed.
His gaze lingered inevitably on the boy's face—perfectly sculpted features, sharp even in slumber. He looked more like a dazzling fairy prince than a sloppy drunk.
Then, his attention shifted to the sword.
That longsword had released a terrifying aura earlier, enough to panic trained cavalry mounts. Even now, its presence pressed deep against his chest like the hand of a god.
What exactly are you hiding?
His hand stretched toward the hilt almost unconsciously.
The moment his fingers brushed it, the sword blazed with faint light.
Boom!
Overwhelming Sword Qi erupted, sending Qinghe flying across the chamber. He crashed painfully against the wall, coughing blood as a sinister black mist coiled around his arm.
Eyes widening, he felt it—the divine light of his Seraphim Martial Soul suppressed, smothered completely.
Impossible… my Seraphim is the martial soul of God's messenger, how can it be restrained?
His body convulsed. Under the suppression, golden wings expanded violently from his back, shredding his robe. Long golden hair cascaded down his shoulders as his features shifted.
The disguise melted away.
No longer Xue Qinghe.
But Qian Renxue.
Her nose was straight, her phoenix eyes sharp, her exquisite figure impossible to hide. Under the pressure of Lu Yuan's mysterious sword, her true form—the holy Seraphim—was forced forth against her will.
And that sword… was devouring the light of heaven itself.
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