The night sky above Houyuán shimmered like black silk embroidered with silver-threaded stars. The palace lanterns swayed in the cool breeze, casting shifting patterns across the marble courtyard. It was one of those nights when the kingdom held its breath—unaware of the storm quietly forming beneath its delicate peace.
Prince Tiān Jùn stood on the highest terrace of the palace, hands clasped behind his back. His white robes fluttered like restless clouds, but his expression remained unreadable. Below him, the servants prepared the courtyard for the grand departure to the Western Region, unaware of the turmoil inside the Crown Prince's heart.
His father's words still clung to his mind like a chain.
"I have taken my step. There is no reverse."
King Tiān Lóngxuān had said it with the weight of a man who had already gambled the future of nations.
Tiān Jùn closed his eyes briefly. The surge of divine power that slept within him stirred again—an unseen tide, rising, threatening, ancient. He inhaled deeply, trying to steady his breath, but the memory of Mò Lián's terrified face struck him like a blade.
Her trembling fingers.
The way she whispered his name.
The fear she tried so hard to hide.
He hated that he had caused it.
Footsteps approached behind him.
"Your Highness," came General Xu's voice, hesitant. "The king requests your presence in the war chamber."
Tiān Jùn didn't turn immediately. His gaze stayed fixed on the horizon where the mountains cut into the sky like jagged teeth.
"Does my father fear the foreign kings?" he asked quietly.
The general hesitated. "He fears only one—Hán Wáng Ān."
A faint, humorless smile tugged at the prince's lips.
He already knew.
"The chariot sent for him," Tiān Jùn murmured. "Has it returned?"
"No, Your Highness. It vanished along the eastern route… as if swallowed by the night."
The prince finally turned, his dark eyes glowing with an otherworldly glint. Not human. Not mortal. Something more.
"Prepare a search," he said.
"But Your Highness, the king ordered—"
"I said," Tiān Jùn repeated, "prepare a search."
The ground beneath the general's feet vibrated for a breath—just enough to make him flinch. He bowed deeply.
"Yes, Your Highness."
When the general left, Tiān Jùn inhaled a long breath and turned his face toward the moon. His pulse throbbed with ancient power, and for a moment, the night air shimmered faintly around him.
But another thought pulled him from the edge of that power.
Where is Mò Lián now?
Elsewhere in the city, far from the towering palace walls, Mò Lián sat quietly in her moving chariot as it approached the kingdom's gates. The fabric brushed lightly against her sleeves, and the faint scent of lotus incense floated through the cabin.
She had waved to her admirers earlier, smiling as they shouted her title.
The Phoenix Dancer.
But the moment the cheers faded behind the chariot wheels, her smile vanished.
Her heart had not forgotten the demon's roar.
Nor the power she had seen in Tiān Jùn—beautiful and frightening, divine and merciless.
She touched her chest lightly. Her pulse still trembled with the memory.
"Why does his presence… feel so familiar?" she whispered to herself.
A part of her soul answered, but she could not yet understand the ancient echo that stirred inside her.
In a quiet region of the city, Lord Chen packed the last of his belongings, unaware of the shifts in fate happening across the kingdom. His daughter's face had brightened his day, his wife's memory pulled him home, and the future seemed uncertain yet steady.
But far above the kingdom, destiny began to move.
And none of them—neither the king plotting his next move, nor the prince struggling with the monster inside him, nor the woman born of fire and scales—realized that every step they took was pulling them closer…
To the unraveling of an ancient bond.
To a curse older than the crown.
To a love that refused to die.