The underground chamber of the Xuánhǔ palace.
In the damp stone corridor, the elegant footsteps of the princess echoed, carrying her down into the dungeons where muffled cries lingered and the stench of rusted iron mingled with the sweat of slaves. Her fury from the quarrel with her father had not yet abated.
Inside, rows of frail bodies were chained to iron pillars, their hollow faces dim under the torchlight. The princess unleashed her wrath.
Craakk!
Her Thunder Whip lashed across a prisoner's back, tearing a scream from his throat. Strike after strike, merciless and unrelenting, until her breath grew ragged, sweat beaded her delicate brow, and her crimson lips parted in heavy gasps. Ironically, the torment of helpless flesh seemed to drain her more than any rigorous training in the courtyard.
"Your Highness, I have brought them as you commanded."
A maid's voice stirred from behind. The princess finally halted, accepting a towel and wiping the sheen of sweat from her skin.
"Well done. Send them in," she said coolly, seating herself upon a wooden chair.
Two shadows entered under guard—a pair of twins named Guang and Yuang. Their faces no longer resembled men: Guang's mouth was sewn with grotesque stitches from cheek to chin, while Yuang bore a horizontal slash across his right eye, leaving behind a ruined white orb like a shattered pearl.
Their gazes swept across the slaves as if they were fresh meat waiting to be devoured. Before chaos erupted, the princess tossed her sweat-soaked towel to the ground.
At once, the twins leapt like rabid beasts, clawing, striking one another for the strip of cloth. Guang seized it, pressing it to his face, inhaling deeply with a perverse moan.
"Enough." The princess's voice was calm but sharp. A thin smile curved her lips. "If you crave spoils, I'll grant you something better."
She stretched out her leg, revealing her black leather boots, dirtied with the filth of the dungeon.
"Come. Clean them until they shine."
Their eyes gleamed with madness. Crawling eagerly, they licked at her boots with ravenous tongues. The princess's smile widened, delighting in their pitiful state. She even kicked their faces at times, laughing softly at their whimpers. Still, they did not cease.
Within minutes, the leather shone as though freshly polished.
"That is enough." She straightened, her voice now edged with command. "I summoned you for more than this. There is a task."
Guang and Yuang froze, anticipation blazing in their eyes.
"Kill the last prince of Qingliǔ. I care not how or at what cost. I only want Zhao Han dead—and swiftly."
Their laughter erupted, deranged and chilling, echoing like the howls of fiends from the abyss. Yet Guang, the more rational of the two, dared ask, "And… what about the Emperor? Does he approve?"
Her expression turned cold as frost. "My father cannot be trust. That is why I entrust this matter to you. I will ensure the boy's death myself—through your hands."
The twins cackled louder, madness rising in waves as they staggered out like wolves unleashed into the wild.
Moments later, a figure clad in black robes entered—the Emperor. He crossed paths with the twins at the doorway, his eyes narrowing before falling upon his daughter.
"What business did you do with those lunatics?" he asked.
"Don't worry about it. That is not your concern," the princess replied flatly, wiping the last traces of sweat from her brow.
The Emperor exhaled heavily. "I see. You are still angry. You think my efforts have not been enough."
"Indeed." Her emerald eyes glowed faintly, unyielding. "And it is your fault. I only want to make sure you do not fail again."
He nearly raised his voice, but withheld it, unwilling to clash further. "I came to remind you—the guests have arrived. Ready yourself. The celebration begins soon."
"The celebration?" Her brows furrowed. "What celebration?"
Thirty minutes later, the princess stood amidst grandeur. The vast circular arena roared with torches blazing on all sides, the audience's cheers crashing like waves. At the highest podium, beneath golden drapes, sat the Emperor, his Empress, and their daughter—whose name was finally proclaimed:
"Today we celebrate," cried the herald, his voice booming across the coliseum, "the eighteenth birthday of Princess Xuèhuā Lièyàn Xuān, daughter of Emperor Bàotīan Hóngliè Xuān!"
The crowd erupted, while Xuèhuā herself gazed ahead, cold and detached.
"As tribute," the herald continued, "three great kingdoms have each sent forth their champions. They shall fight to the death! And whichever champion prevails, the prince of that kingdom shall earn the right to wed the princess!"
Cheers thundered. Xuèhuā turned to her father, her eyes blazing.
"What is this? You said this was only a birthday celebration. Why must there be an engagement?"
Emperor Bàotīan replied evenly, "Had I told you, you would never have agreed. It is time you marry. Eighteen is not an age to remain unwed."
Her face hardened, disappointment fanning her anger. "Once again, you decide for me without my consent!"
"Relaxe, Xuèhuā. I have ensured those gathered here are the finest suitors. You will not be disappointed."
"I'm already disappointed!" she spat.
"Do not dare cause any scene," he hissed under his breath. "Three great kings are present. My honor is on the line. Do not disgrace me."
But his warning only stoked the flames. With breathtaking grace, Xuèhuā leapt down into the arena, her long gown flowing like a crimson tide. The crowd fell silent, stunned by her defiance.
She seized the moment, dismissing the prepared champions with a wave of her hand. None dared object. All eyes were upon her.
Turning to the front row where three princes sat, her voice rang loud and clear:
"My people, is it not tiresome to watch the same battles of common champions—one dead, one victor, and nothing more? I propose something different. Instead of pawns fighting in their stead, let the princes themselves step forward. You deserve to see the true strength of those who would rule you. In our land, strength is law. Shouldn't a ruler be stronger than his own warrior?"
Whispers rippled through the crowd, growing into waves of assent. The Emperor sat slumped in shame, covering his face with his hand, while the Empress cast him a scornful glance, as though this was not the first time their daughter defied him.
"Well then," Xuèhuā's voice rose, triumphant, "do you all agree?"
"Yes!"
"Louder—do you agree!?"
"YES!!" roared the crowd in unison.
Victory flashed across her face. Yet one of the kings stood, his voice trembling with outrage.
"I cannot allow my son to fight! He is heir to my throne—I will not risk his life for this spectacle. If the princess—"
"Silence!" Xuèhuā's command cut like a blade. "How dare you interrupt me? Insolence such as yours warrants hanging, old man!"
The king faltered, lips sealed, unwilling to further provoke her wrath.
The princess then pointed at the princes beside the king, her smile venomous. "If you truly wish to claim me, come down and prove yourselves worth it."
Faces pale, the princes glanced helplessly at their fathers. But their kings, pride wounded, could only order their sons forward.
With reluctant steps, the three young men entered the arena, shame burning their cheeks. Xuèhuā's gaze swept over them with disdain.
"I am disappointed," she said icily. "Are these the faces of the future of the kingdom? Pathetic. To think you came here to propose to me—it makes me wish to bathe in ice, to cleanse myself of this filth. You haven't even touched me, yet I already feel defiled."
Her eyes lifted toward the high podium. The Emperor peered at her from between his fingers, dread etched upon his features. Their gazes met, and he knew this was far from over.
"Screw it," Xuèhuā declared to the three princes. "Forget what I said before. I don't care for your pitiful duel. This time, I shall fight all three of you myself. And whoever remains standing at the end—shall be the victor."