"Where do you think you're sneaking off to, little Roc?" she teased. "You're the only boy here who can give us honest opinions. Stay."
Zhu Zhuqing actually giggled — a small, fleeting sound — then quickly looked away, embarrassed.
Xiao Tian could only sigh. "Why do I have to suffer for your shopping adventures?" he muttered under his breath.
"Because you're cute when you look tortured," Felicia replied shamelessly, tapping his forehead with a clawed finger.
Zhu Zhuqing didn't disagree. Her faint smile was all the agreement he needed.
And so, defeated, Xiao Tian trudged after them, arms loaded with parcels, wondering if he should envy or pity Mo Luochen for being surrounded by so many dangerous women.
Mo Luochen and Renxue sat quietly at a private corner table of the inn's modest dining hall, savoring bowls of fragrant beef stew and steamed buns. The place bustled with common travelers and a few lower nobles, but nothing seemed particularly remarkable — until Luochen's keen eyes noticed a sullen young man slumped alone at a nearby table.
He was finely dressed, but his robe was slightly wrinkled, his hair half undone, and there was a faint smell of wine on him. A pair of servants hovered nervously nearby, clearly uneasy about their charge's mood.
"That's… interesting," Luochen murmured.
Renxue followed his gaze, her golden eyes narrowing slightly. Then she almost laughed — a rare, soft sound.
"That's Xue Qinghe. One of the princes of the Tian Dou Empire," she whispered with faint amusement.
Luochen raised an eyebrow. "The same one you were supposed to impersonate in the past?"
She nodded, her tone turning dry. "Hmm, though that plan was discarded long ago. And he's a waste, really. Neither martial nor political talent — more interested in sulking and brooding with cheap wine than managing his empire's affairs."
Luochen leaned back, studying Xue Qinghe's bowed head and the hollow look in his eyes.
"A failed prince," he said bluntly.
Then he grinned. "Which makes it interesting."
Renxue shot him a sideways glance, sighing as she thought, What evil plan is he brewing now?
They watched a moment longer as Xue Qinghe sat there, idly swirling his cup before downing it in one miserable gulp.
"I almost pity him," Renxue murmured, her expression thoughtful. "Almost."
Luochen's grin widened, a glint of playful malice sparking in his silver eyes.
"Why waste such a perfectly good opportunity?" he said lightly. "We could help him ascend — let him wear the crown while we hold the strings behind it."
Renxue arched an eyebrow, folding her arms beneath her chest. "Make him a puppet emperor of the Tian Dou Empire?"
"Exactly," Luochen replied, almost sounding amused. "He'd be grateful for any scraps of support. Give him enough power to keep his rivals at bay, whisper the right promises in his ear, and he'll dance to whatever tune we play."
Renxue tilted her head, golden eyes thoughtful. "That would give us control of the Tian Dou Empire — even without using Spirit Hall's power. And by the time anyone notices, we'll already rule most of Tian Dou from the shadows."
"That's a great idea," she added with a faint smile.
Luochen nodded. "Naturally."
"But… how do we actually help him?" she asked, eyes narrowing curiously.
Luochen gave her a playful wink. "Of course, it won't be us directly — it'll be 'Master Mo.'"
Renxue blinked, then made a little face. "Isn't Master Mo… just you in a robe and mask?"
He chuckled, resting his hand on hers. "Exactly. I'll disguise myself again. As Master Mo, I'll offer him some small gifts — maybe a special elixir to evolve his Swan Martial Spirit. That way, he'll gain enough cultivation and presence to fend off the other princes and even the Emperor's suspicions."
She let out a soft hum of approval. "Mm. Clever. With that, he'll owe everything to us. And with his power built on your foundation, he'll never dare to turn against us."
"Good girl," Luochen murmured, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. Renxue's cheeks colored just faintly, though her smirk was pure cunning.
As evening draped its deep blue over Tian Dou City, lanterns began to glow across the streets like little fire spirits. The inn's common room filled with the warm murmur of merchants, local nobles, and travelers.
Xue Qinghe still sat in his lonely corner, slumped over the table, half-finished wine in his hand. His shoulders were tense, eyes dull with frustration and faint shame.
Then the door swung open, admitting a calm, refined presence.
Mo Luochen, now wearing the guise of a middle-aged scholar — his face altered by the Chameleon King Head Spirit Bone — strode in. His long robes bore faint embroidery of cranes and pine, his hair tied in a simple scholar's knot, his expression warm but sharp.
He moved purposefully through the tables until he came to stand near Xue Qinghe.
The prince didn't look up at first. Only when the man's shadow fell across his cup did he frown slightly and raise his eyes.
"Who… are you?" Xue Qinghe asked, his tone weary.
Mo Luochen — as Master Mo — offered a gentle smile. "Just an old traveler with some skill in medicine and cultivation theory. But more than that… someone who wonders why a young man of such noble bearing is sulking alone like this, drowning in cheap wine."
Xue Qinghe stiffened, clearly insulted. "It is not your business, senior."
"Perhaps not," Master Mo agreed easily. "But when I see potential being wasted on bitterness, I find it hard to keep silent. Tell me, Your Highness…"
The words Your Highness made Xue Qinghe start, his gaze sharpening — suspicion and pride mingling.
"Why is the Prince of Tian Dou Empire sitting here like a common failed scholar, hiding from the world? What burdens you so deeply that you choose wine over your own destiny?"
Xue Qinghe's lips twitched, resentment flashing across his pale face. "Destiny? Hah. My destiny is to be a puppet — watched by countless eyes, trailed by spies, undermined by my own siblings. Even my father sees no worth in me. Why waste effort on a throne I'll never sit upon?"
Master Mo studied him for a long moment, then let out a soft, knowing chuckle.
"Then perhaps you simply need… a hand to lift you up. And something that will let the world see you are worthy of the throne."
Xue Qinghe's eyes widened, confusion battling with hope. "What do you mean by that?"
Master Mo smiled faintly, as if sharing a secret with an old friend. "Let us speak privately. I might have a way to awaken the true power slumbering in your blood — so that all of Tian Dou will kneel, not out of forced loyalty, but because your strength leaves them no other choice."
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