The world was a symphony of spiritual energy, and I, for the first time in this new life, was its conductor. I sat in the lotus position in the heart of my family's Tranquil Bamboo Grove, a place where the wood-elemental Qi was so dense it felt like breathing in liquid life. In my last life, it had taken me years to achieve the harmony I now commanded, years of lonely cultivation fueled by grief and a burning need for vengeance. Now, it felt like coming home.
The Azure Dragon's Genesis Scripture flowed through me, as a river returning to its natural course. The memories of my Nascent Soul realm mastery were a blueprint, guiding the far weaker but still potent energy of my Late Stage Foundation Establishment body. The air around me hummed, the bamboo stalks swaying in a rhythm that matched my own breathing. I could feel the life force in every leaf, every root, every blade of grass. This was my Dao. The Dao of life, of water, of unyielding growth.
I was in the midst of refining a particularly stubborn meridian when the tranquil harmony was broken by the sound of frantic footsteps. I opened my eyes, a flicker of irritation passing through me. I had given strict orders not to be disturbed.
My personal maid, Lan, burst into the clearing, her face pale and her breathing ragged. She skidded to a halt before me, bowing so low her forehead nearly touched the ground.
"Young Miss!" she gasped, her voice trembling. "Forgive this intrusion, but… but there is terrible news from the Chen Estate!"
My blood ran cold. So soon? My mind instantly flashed to the worst possibilities. Had Jin Hao arrived early? Had Su Lian already begun her wretched schemes? A wave of killing intent leaked from me, causing the air to drop several degrees. Lan flinched, her face paling further.
I forced myself to be calm, drawing the killing intent back in. Panicking would solve nothing. "What is it, Lan? Speak," I commanded, my voice dangerously level.
"It's… it's Young Master Chen Wei, the Third Elder's son," she stammered. "He was found dead in his room this morning!"
I stared at her, my mind a complete blank for a full three seconds.
Chen Wei?
Of all the names, of all the potential tragedies that haunted my reborn soul, his was not one of them. In my past life, Chen Wei was a footnote, a coward of no consequence. He was the first of the main family to betray the Chens after Arya's death, a sniveling wretch who had traded his honor for a fleeting promise of safety from Jin Hao. He had been quietly executed a few years later when his uselessness became apparent. He wasn't supposed to die now.
This was a deviation. A major one. And it had nothing to do with me.
My carefully constructed plans, my knowledge of the future, all of it felt like a sheet of ice with a crack running through it. The world was not following the script I remembered. A cold knot of uncertainty tightened in my stomach. What did this mean?
"They are saying… they are saying it was a cultivation deviation, Young Miss," Lan continued, her voice a hushed whisper. "But the rumors… they say the room was a scene of utter horror. Some are even whispering about a curse."
A curse. A cultivation deviation. It made no sense. Chen Wei was a talentless weakling. He didn't have enough cultivation to have a deviation of that magnitude. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
And my first thought was not about the mystery of his death. It was about Arya.
How is he taking this? The thought was an instinct, a reflex born from a soul that had orbited his for a lifetime. A tragedy in his family, a mysterious death under his own roof—the pressure on him as the heir would be immense. He would be the one everyone looked to. He would have to be the pillar, the unshakeable rock, while his own family was in turmoil.
I stood up, my cultivation session forgotten. "Prepare a carriage," I said, my voice sharp with purpose. "I am going to the Chen Estate."
"But Young Miss," Lan protested weakly. "It is a time of mourning for their family. Perhaps it is not appropriate to—"
"I am going to see Arya," I stated, my tone leaving no room for argument. I was his future wife. It was my right, and my duty, to be by his side.
The journey to the Chen Estate was a torment of anxious thoughts. The crack in my knowledge of the future had grown into a chasm of uncertainty. If Chen Wei could die now, what else could change? Was Arya's fate still the same? Was the arrival of Jin Hao still inevitable? I felt like I was walking on a path I thought I knew, only to find the landscape shifting and changing with every step.
When I arrived, the estate was cloaked in a somber atmosphere that was a stark contrast to its usual vibrant energy. The guards at the gate looked tense, their expressions grim. The servants moved with a fearful silence, their eyes darting about nervously. Whispers followed me like ghosts as I made my way towards the main hall, my presence as the eldest daughter of the Su Family announced ahead of me.
I found them in the central courtyard, the same place where I had spoken to Arya just the day before. The mood, however, could not have been more different. A crowd of junior family members and elders were gathered, their faces a mixture of grief, fear, and confusion. I saw the Third Elder, Chen Feng, looking like a man who had aged twenty years overnight, being supported by his weeping wife.
And in the center of it all, I saw him.
Arya.
He was a bastion of calm in a sea of chaos. He moved through the crowd with a resolute grace, his expression somber but his eyes clear and firm. He spoke to a group of frightened junior disciples, his voice low and steady, his words seeming to physically calm their trembling. He then moved to his uncle, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and murmuring words of support that made the grieving man straighten his slumped shoulders, if only for a moment.
I watched him, my heart aching with a familiar mix of love and pride. This was the man I remembered, the leader he was always meant to be. In my past life, I had only seen this strength emerge after the tragedy had already broken him. To see it now, to see him rise to the occasion and hold his family together, was both heartbreaking and breathtakingly beautiful.
He was shouldering the entire weight of his family's fear and sorrow. And I knew, with a certainty that resonated in my very soul, that he should not have to do it alone.
I walked towards him, my steps silent on the stone paving. He was so focused on comforting a distraught-looking elder that he didn't notice me until I was right beside him.
"Arya," I said, my voice soft.
He turned, and his eyes met mine. For a moment, I saw the immense strain behind his composed mask. I saw the weariness, the weight of a hundred burdens. My heart went out to him. Without thinking, my hand moved on its own accord, an instinctive need to offer some form of comfort.