Zhao was led by the maid through a long corridor lit by torches. The silence was broken only by the rhythm of their footsteps echoing against the stone walls. His heart still burned from the clash that had erupted in the prison earlier, yet his mind was clouded with questions: Where was he being taken?
At last, they arrived before two colossal golden doors, carved with dragons and waves. The maid pushed them open gently, and at once the fragrance of roasted meats and exotic spices enveloped Zhao's senses.
Inside stretched a grand, opulent hall. Silk draperies hung from every side, crystal lamps shone brightly, and in the center lay a long table laden with sumptuous dishes—smoked meats, roasted fish, fragrant soups, red wine, and fresh fruits from distant lands.
Ruo Yun, whose whereabouts had been unknown since the events of last night, was seated on one side of the table. The moment she saw Zhao enter, she leapt to her feet.
"Zhao!" she cried, her eyes widening in shock at the sight of her fiancé's battered, bloodied face. "What happened to you!?"
Zhao embraced her tightly in return, burying his face into her shoulder in gratitude, relieved to see her unharmed.
At the far end of the table sat a dignified middle-aged man, clad in a regal purple robe embroidered with golden dragons. His face was stern yet radiated charisma. Beside him, a beautiful woman with soft crimson skin and shimmering green eyes gazed at Zhao in surprise.
The master of the hall spoke, his voice deep yet calm.
"Dear Heavens! What happened to this child?" He rose from his chair, addressing the maid standing by Zhao's side.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty. It was General Yao's doing. It seems they clashed in the prison. He nearly drew his blade to punish the boy. Had I arrived a moment too late, blood would have been spilled."
"That man—old, yet still unable to restrain his temper." The ruler turned back toward Zhao and Ruo Yun, offering a courteous gesture. "I owe you the deepest of apologies for what happened. I will see that old man punished myself. Please, both of you, enjoy this feast prepared especially in your honor. Consider it my way of making amends."
He ushered the two youths to their seats. His resplendent garments clinked with ornaments from head to toe as he moved, the crown upon his head gleaming under the light.
Ruo Yun had already begun sipping the soup before Zhao entered the hall, and quickly resumed once he sat beside her, her heart eased by his presence. Zhao, however, showed little interest in the dishes before him. Though his stomach growled hungrily, his heart was restless—still haunted by the nightmare of his dreams and the brawl in the prison. His sharp eyes fixed instead upon the clan leader across the table.
"Ah, where are my manners? I have yet to introduce myself," the man said. "I am King Yǒnghǎi Jīnyún, sovereign of the Jīnyún Clan, ruler of Liángzhōu. I know you, Prince Zhao Han. I grieve for what befell your kingdom. To be destroyed in a single night… truly madness."
The name startled Zhao. His mother had once spoken of Liángzhōu—a great international trade city, a hub where goods from across the realm flowed, where merchants, nobles, and even healers from faraway lands gathered. That explained why the armor of the soldiers who had abducted them felt strangely familiar.
Beside the king, the red skinned woman smiled faintly. Zhao's gaze lingered on her. Something about her aura was unsettlingly familiar.
"Please, Zhao," the king continued. "You must be hungry. Consider this a welcoming feast. And rest assured—I would never poison the food before you. I knew your father. In truth, we shared a bond."
Of all that had befallen him in these past days—his kingdom destroyed, his father slain before his very eyes, his mother's body torn apart, his own life nearly ended in a cavern beneath the earth by foes unknown—and now, a king of a neighboring realm had abducted him only to offer a feast? It was natural that Zhao sensed something amiss.
Finally, he spoke. "Your Majesty King Yǒnghǎi, I've endured a long, bitter day, and I have no strength left for pleasantries. I know you did not have us taken here merely to serve me soup from your cook. Speak plainly. What do you want?"
The clinking of spoons ceased. The king and his queen both stiffened at the words of the fifteen-year-old boy. Even Ruo Yun set her utensils down, unwilling to continue her meal.
The king sighed at last, casting a glance at the woman beside him.
"My love, forgive me, but you should leave us. I wish to speak privately with this boy. Take this girl with you as well."
The woman rose gracefully, bowing without a word.
"No," Zhao interjected sharply, clutching Ruo Yun's hand. "I will not let Ruo Yun leave my sight again. If you wish to speak with me, you will speak to us both. I suggest you accept these terms."
The king hesitated, his expression reluctant, but finally gave a curt nod. The red skinned woman departed with the maid, leaving the hall silent save for the three remaining.
Now King Yǒnghǎi's tone shifted, colder, edged with authority.
"Young one, do you realize your life now hangs by the thinnest thread? Were I in your place, I would show more respect—especially before the most powerful man in this land. But, because of the bond I once shared with your father, I will overlook your insolence."
"As I said," Zhao replied coolly, "I have no strength left for pleasantries. Get to the point."
The king sipped his wine, then continued.
"Last night, what you did was reckless, yet daring. Already, Xuánhǔ soldiers scramble at dawn, hauling war machines from the capital toward the kingdom of Qīngliǔ. Do you not realize the worth of your life? You are the sole hope of restoring your fallen kingdom, yet you have proclaimed to the world—and to your greatest enemy—that you still live. Now the Emperor will stop at nothing to see you dead, for you are the one he fears most."
Zhao chuckled softly, insolently throwing a leg up onto the table.
"Then whoever bears the title of Emperor is nothing but a paranoid fool. What could a brat like me possibly do? He commands an entire army, while I stand alone."
"Fool!" King Yǒnghǎi slammed his palm upon the table. "So it is true what they say—you are nothing but a spoiled prince, sheltered and ignorant of the world. Your parents coddled you, and now you reap the fruit of that weakness. Never having stepped beyond your palace walls, you are blind to the world's cruelty. And look at the result—your parents slain, your kingdom in ruins. Meeting you now, I see your fate is no less than you deserve."
Zhao fell silent.
Ruo Yun's heart clenched. She feared what he might do. Zhao never tolerated mockery of his parents' deaths, least of all after watching his mother's body shattered before his eyes. Whenever such words reached him, his gaze turned sharp and dangerous—as it did now. If she did not intervene, Zhao would act rashly.
"Your Majesty!" Ruo Yun cried desperately. "I beg you, take back those words! Did you summon us here only to insult Zhao? He has lost everything, and now you trample upon his suffering with your tongue. Have you no conscience?"
But instead of apologizing, King Yǒnghǎi drew something from his sleeve and placed it upon the table. A small green stone, no larger than a dice.
"Do you know what this is?"
"…Gogonit," Zhao whispered.
"Correct. And do you know, boy, that the very cause of your kingdom's destruction lies within this stone?"