The Hall of Eternal Harmony was a sea of silk, gold, and contained power. Hundreds of the continent's most influential individuals were gathered, their conversations a low, constant murmur like a dangerous tide. Everyone was waiting.
Suddenly, the ceremonial drums thundered three times, their solemn echo silencing every conversation, every whisper. The enormous doors to the hall swung wide open.
"His Imperial Majesty, the Dragon Emperor, Wei Zheng!" thundered the Grand Chamberlain's voice.
The Emperor entered. His golden robes seemed forged from the sun itself, and the dragon crown on his head shone with an oppressive light. He walked with heavy, deliberate steps, his face a mask of cold authority. In his wake, a palpable fear swept through the hall. The nobles and ministers bowed their heads, not only out of respect, but from an instinct of submission. His power was a mountain—a force that crushed and demanded obedience.
"Her Imperial Majesty, the Phoenix Empress, Wei Shuyin!" the Grand Chamberlain announced.
And then, she entered.
If the Emperor's power was a mountain, hers was the night sky.
Dressed in a simple, snow-white robe with hardly any jewelry, her presence didn't crush; it expanded. The air around her seemed to grow clearer, purer. People didn't lower their heads in fear; they raised them in awe. Her power wasn't an oppressive force, but a vast and serene calm, that of an infinite, silent universe. It was the power of a being who needed to prove nothing.
Near the entrance, a southern general whispered to his aide, "Do you feel that? The Emperor's power makes you want to kneel. Hers… makes you feel as if you're already on your knees without ever being asked."
Finally, the chamberlain announced, "Her Imperial Highness, the Crown Princess, Wei Yao!"
Wei Yao entered, a golden sun amidst the night and the mountain. Her gown shone with a bold, youthful energy, and her new Decree of the Jade Storm's Eye enveloped her in an aura of calm and latent power. If her father was the power that is and her mother the power that encompasses, she was the power yet to come. All eyes fell upon her, a mixture of greed, admiration, and calculation. She was the future of the empire, walking with a confidence she had not possessed just a few weeks ago.
The imperial family ascended the main dais and took their seats on the three thrones, observing the sea of faces bowing before them. The banquet had begun.
The procession of supplicants soon began. The most important guests, those with the status or audacity to approach the main table, formed a line to present their respects and their gifts.
First were those from the Golden Sword Sect. The change in their demeanor was so drastic it sparked murmurs throughout the hall. Young Master Jin Tian and Elder Lin Jian approached. They did not walk with the arrogance of lions, but with the wary humility of lambs entering the dragon's den.
Their bow was deep, their foreheads nearly touching the floor.
"Your Imperial Majesties, the Emperor and the Empress," Jin Tian began, his voice, devoid of all its former bravado, now sounding respectful and submissive. "Your Majesties' power illuminates the continent and guides the path for all cultivators. This humble Golden Sword is overwhelmed and honored to simply be in your presence."
The Emperor regarded him coldly, his eyes a warning. "Your sect shows proper respect, Young Master. That is wise."
Elder Lin stepped forward. "We have come to express our deepest admiration for Her Majesty the Empress's advancement. It is a blessing for the world. And to demonstrate our sincerity, we have brought a small gift."
They presented a sword, its scabbard encrusted with diamonds. It was a treasure of their sect, a weapon famed for its sharpness and its history.
"Accept it as a token of our loyalty and our hope for a lasting friendship between the Sword and the Dragon," the elder concluded.
Wei Yao watched from her throne, a sense of cold victory coursing through her. She saw Jin Tian's face, the humiliation barely hidden behind his mask of respect. Surprisingly, she didn't feel triumph, but rather a pang of something like pity. Her uncle had been right. It had been a lesson in detachment, and Jin Tian had learned it the hard way.
The procession continued. A prince from a vassal kingdom offered a tribute of a thousand warhorses. General Hu presented the captured banners of the southern rebels. Every gift was a statement; every word, a negotiation.
Then, it was the Caravan of a Hundred Curiosities' turn.
Xie Yi and Fatty Meng approached. Unlike the others, they showed neither fear nor arrogance. They simply walked with the quiet confidence of men who know the true value of things.
They performed a respectful, but not servile, bow.
"Your Imperial Majesties, Crown Princess," Xie Yi began, his cultured and smooth voice a pleasant contrast to the noise of the hall. "We are not warriors or nobles. We are simple merchants of stories and treasures. And we have come to offer a humble gift to celebrate the dawn of a new era."
He opened a box of frozen heartwood. The air around it chilled, and a collective gasp swept through those close enough to see. Inside, on a bed of icy silk, rested the bottle of wine that seemed to be made of starlight crystal: "Breath of the Twilight Empress."
"A nectar from a past era," Xie Yi said, "to celebrate the dawn of a new one. A humble gift for Her Majesty, the Empress, from admirers of true art."
The Emperor looked at the bottle with interest, recognizing its immense monetary value. Wei Yao looked at it with curiosity, recognizing the audacity of the gift.
But it was Wei Shuyin, who had remained in regal silence throughout the procession, who spoke. Her voice was not loud, but it cut through the hall's murmur like a knife, and all fell silent to listen.
"An extraordinary gift, Master Xie," she said, her use of the title 'Master' sending another shockwave through those who knew the status of merchants. "True art, as you say, should be appreciated, not stored away."
She turned, not to her husband, but to the Grand Chamberlain at the foot of the dais.
"Chamberlain Yu," she ordered, her voice quiet but resonating with absolute authority, "a wine of such caliber should not be wasted collecting dust in the imperial cellar. See to it that a glass of this very bottle is brought immediately to Prince Wei Feng's table."
The silence in the hall was total, absolute. If the Empress's breakthrough had been thunder, this command was the lightning that illuminated the battlefield. It was a resounding public declaration, an undeniable connection. She had linked her name to that of the drunken prince, and through him, to these new and mysterious players who were the "connoisseurs."
Wei Yao held her breath. She saw her father's face tighten into a mask of barely contained fury for a split second—a muscle twitching in his jaw—before his mask of imperial indifference snapped back into place. The message had been sent. And it had been received.
"I know that he," the Empress concluded, her gaze sweeping the room before settling on the corner where she knew he would be, "will appreciate a gift from a true connoisseur."
At a side table, in the corner farthest from power and closest to the kitchen, Wei Feng watched the spectacle with a lazy smile. The drama, the tension, the politics… it was all a marvelous appetizer.
He saw the shock, the confusion, and then the terror on Chamberlain Yu's face as he processed the Empress's order. He saw a high-ranking servant approach with trembling hands, carrying a single crystal glass on a silver tray as if he were bearing the heart of a god.
"P-Prince Feng," the servant stammered, placing the glass before him with a bow so deep it looked as though he might break in half. "By… by order of Her Majesty, the Empress."
The aroma wafting from the glass was celestial. It smelled of time, of cold stars and a forgotten sweetness.
Just then, Fatty Meng and Xie Yi arrived at his table, their faces lit with pure amusement.
"Friend Feng!" Fatty Meng exclaimed in a booming whisper, sitting down heavily. "It seems you have admirers in high places! And with exquisite taste! I knew our gift would hit the mark!"
Wei Feng lifted the glass, not yet drinking. He sniffed it with almost religious reverence, closing his eyes. "Shuyin always had good taste," he murmured, more to himself than to them. "Though I'm surprised she remembered my preferences after so long."
"Oh, I don't think this is about preferences," Xie Yi said, sitting with quiet elegance. His smile was that of a Go player who has just seen his opponent make a brilliant move. "The Empress is more cunning than her 'Ice Queen' reputation suggests. She hasn't sent you a glass of wine, Prince."
"No?" Wei Feng asked, opening his eyes.
"No," Xie Yi confirmed. "She has sent a message. To the entire hall. To her husband. To the Golden Sword Sect. To all who have ears to hear. She has drawn a line in the sand. And she has made it very clear which side of that line you stand on. And by extension, us."
Wei Feng finally took a sip. The liquid was cold, ethereal, and it exploded on his palate with the complexity of two thousand years of history. He let out a sigh of pure ecstasy.
"Hmm," he said, savoring the aftertaste. "A message… absolutely delicious."
He downed the rest of the glass in one go, an act that made Xie Yi blink at the blasphemy and Fatty Meng let out a hearty laugh.
Wei Feng set the empty glass down on the table. His smile was lazy, but his eyes glittered with a dangerous light. The banquet had barely begun, and his queen had already made the first move on the board. Now, it was his turn. And he had always enjoyed a good game.