The murmur in the Hall of Eternal Harmony had reached the level of comfortable celebration. Wine glasses were being refilled, nobles exchanged false compliments, and the tensions of the arrivals seemed to have dissolved in the warm glow of a thousand candles. With a sliver of composure regained, Emperor Wei Zheng stood, raising his golden cup. It was time for the main toast, his chance to reassert control and put his seal on the night.
"Distinguished guests, friends, allies..." he began, his voice booming with practiced authority. "Tonight, we celebrate an event of unprecedented magnitude. The ascension of my Empress—"
"If His Imperial Majesty would permit me."
The voice wasn't a shout, but it cut through the Emperor's speech with the precision of an obsidian knife. It wasn't a request, but a declaration.
All heads turned. High Inquisitor Zuo, from the Theocratic Dominion of the Purifying Flame, had risen to his feet. His movement was deliberate, slow, a theatrical act designed to draw every ounce of attention in the room. He wore immaculate white silk robes, and his face was that of an ascetic scholar, but his eyes burned with the cold fire of a fanatic.
Emperor Wei Zheng's face twisted into a grimace of irritation. To be interrupted during his own toast, in his own hall, was a supreme offense. "Do you have something to add, High Inquisitor?" he asked, his voice dripping with an ice that failed to conceal his fury.
"Merely a word of congratulations," Zuo replied, bowing his head with a humility more insulting than arrogance. With a smile that didn't reach his eyes, he addressed the hall. "Before the main toast, if His Majesty permits, I would like to offer my own humble thoughts. An event so... miraculous... as the Empress's unprecedented advancement deserves, I believe, a deep theological reflection."
"I have spent the last night in the archives, studying the ancient texts," Zuo continued, his voice like a professor giving a lecture. "A complete Realm jump, from the Celestial Throne to the Sovereign's Domain, overnight, is a phenomenon of heavenly rarity. The sacred scriptures, in fact, only attribute it to two possible causes."
He paused dramatically, ensuring that everyone, from the princes to the servants, was hanging on his every word.
"The first," he said, raising a finger, "is a divine blessing. A gift from the Dao granted to a soul of such absolute purity, of such unwavering devotion, that the heavens themselves bow to reward it." His gaze fell upon the Empress. "A possibility, certainly."
Then, his smile widened, turning venomous. "And the second... is the aid of forbidden arts. Dark pacts. Demonic rituals that grant immense power, but demand a terrible price from the practitioner's soul."
A collective, horrified gasp swept through the hall. The accusation, though cloaked in the silk of academic speculation, was a direct blow, a poison poured into the ear of the entire empire.
High Inquisitor Zuo raised a hand, feigning to calm the crowd he had just agitated. "Of course," he said, his tone now full of false concern, "we are not suggesting anything. Who are we, humble servants of the Purifying Flame, to question the miracles that occur within the mighty Wei lineage? We are only expressing our concern. A concern for the purity of such a noble and important bloodline."
He let his gaze drift across the room, lingering on the faces of ambassadors and sect leaders. "To dispel any malicious doubts that might arise on the continent, any baseless rumors that the empire's enemies might spread, the Theocratic Dominion humbly offers its assistance."
He turned back to the throne, his smile now that of a serpent offering an apple.
"We propose a simple validation ceremony," he announced. "A mere formality for everyone's peace of mind. Allow my acolytes, trained in the detection of the dark arts, to analyze the nature of your Qi, Your Majesty the Empress. It will be a public and transparent demonstration that will silence the skeptics and confirm, beyond a doubt, that your path is orthodox and righteous. We do this," he concluded with a bow, "for the reputation and honor of the Great Wei Empire."
The proposal was a masterpiece of political aggression: a flagrant insult to the empire's sovereignty, wrapped in the language of aid and friendship.
All eyes, as one, fixed upon Emperor Wei Zheng. They expected an outburst of fury. They expected a thundering defense of his wife's and his empire's honor. They expected him to expel the Inquisitor and his entire delegation, even at the risk of war. It was his duty as an Emperor. As a husband.
The fury was there, boiling beneath the surface. The insult to his throne was real. But as he looked at his wife—so calm, so serene in her new power, the woman who had rejected him and confessed her love for his useless brother—a colder, pettier, and darker feeling overcame the rage.
Perfect, he thought, a bitter voice whispering in the back of his mind. Absolutely perfect. She wants power. She wants independence. Then let her have it. Let her fend for herself. Let her taste public suspicion, let her see what it's like to face a political power without the protection of my throne. Let her defend herself. Maybe then, just maybe, she'll learn to value what she has so arrogantly scorned.
Publicly, his face remained impassive, but his next action was a betrayal deeper than any words. Slowly, with a deliberation that chilled the blood of those who understood, he raised his golden cup and took a sip of wine.
His silence was a scream. It was permission.
High Inquisitor Zuo saw the gesture and his smile widened, triumphant. He had won. The Emperor, for whatever reason, had thrown her to the wolves. But he had forgotten about the lioness.
"High Inquisitor Zuo."
Wei Yao's voice was like the chime of a crystal bell in the tense silence. She stood, her movement fluid and decisive. The golden gown she wore shimmered, making her look like a rising sun.
"Have I understood your generous offer correctly?" she continued, her voice as cold as newly forged steel. "Are you, a guest in our home, implying that the Empress of the Great Wei Empire, a Sovereign of this realm, must submit to the judgment of a foreign power to validate her own power before our subjects?"
Zuo looked at her, his expression a mix of surprise and condescension. "Crown Princess, your youth perhaps prevents you from seeing the complexities of the matter—"
"I see the complexities perfectly," she cut him off, her golden gaze sweeping the hall and landing on the faces of the ambassadors. "I see a representative of a neighboring power sowing doubt about the integrity of our lineage in order to gain political influence. Your 'proposal' is not help, Inquisitor. It is an offense."
She turned to face him again, her face a mask of cold fury. "And your continued presence at this banquet, after such an insult, has become... unpleasant."
It was bold. It was direct. It was the defense the Emperor should have made.
High Inquisitor Zuo laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "A young lioness with sharp claws. Adorable. But this is a matter between Sovereigns, child. Your—"
"My daughter has too courteous a heart."
Empress Wei Shuyin's voice was not a whisper. It was not a shout. It was a statement. She rose from her throne, her movement slow and majestic, like a mountain coming to life.
"I, tonight, do not," she continued.
The temperature in the hall seemed to drop several degrees. The aura of her Sovereign's Domain expanded subtly, an invisible, crushing pressure that made High Inquisitor Zuo, a powerful cultivator in his own right, take an instinctive step back.
Wei Shuyin slowly descended the dais steps, her white gown moving around her like a silent mist. She stopped directly in front of the Inquisitor. She looked at him, not up, but down, even though he was taller.
"You enter my home," she said, her voice dangerously quiet. "You eat my food. You drink my wine. And then, in front of my court, you insult my family with false concerns wrapped in sacred texts." She paused, her icy gaze sweeping over the Inquisitor's now pale face. "And you dare. You dare to 'propose' that I submit to the inspection of your acolytes as if I were cattle at a market to 'validate' my power."
A short, dry, utterly terrifying laugh escaped her lips. The sound made several nobles flinch.
"Let's play your game, Inquisitor," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Let's assume, just for a moment, that your dirty little fantasy is true. Let's assume I've made a pact with the demons of the nine hells. Let's assume I've sold my soul in exchange for this power." She leaned in, her face inches from his. Now, her golden eyes burned with the cold light of a dying star. "So now what? What do you plan to do about it, High Inquisitor?"
She challenged him. She dared him. She didn't deny the accusation—she embraced it and threw it back in his face.
She took another step closer. Her power intensified, causing the nearby candles to flicker and Zuo to feel as if he were choking. "This is not your temple. You are not safe behind your walls of 'purity' and your hypocritical scriptures. You are in the Great Wei Empire. You are in my palace. And I am its Empress. I am a Sovereign of this world."
Her voice dropped to a lethal whisper, but every person in the hall heard it as if she were speaking directly into their ear.
"Now, you will do one of two things. Either you sit down in your chair like the guest dog that you are and shut your mouth for the rest of the night, or the main gate is very wide, and you can crawl out of my empire before my hospitality runs out completely."
The silence that followed was absolute, stunned.
High Inquisitor Zuo's face was a masterpiece of humiliation. He was pale, his lips pressed into a thin line, his body trembling with a rage he dared not unleash. He had come to play a game of political chess and had instead found a dragon that simply flipped the board and set it on fire. He was defeated, not by the force of swords, but by the absolute authority of her will and the weight of her power.
The court watched the Empress with a new emotion that eclipsed all others: a deep, reverent fear. She was no longer the cold, calculating spectator pulling strings from the shadows. She was an absolute sovereign with a spine of steel, willing to start a continental war over a simple matter of respect.
The Emperor stared at her, completely dumbfounded from his throne. The fury had been replaced by shock. He had wanted her to struggle, to feel the pressure, but he hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected this ferocity, this absolute authority. There was shock on his face, there was humiliation because she had done the job that he, as Emperor, should have done. And beneath it all, there was an undeniable, terrifying pang of... admiration.
With a calmness more intimidating than any shout, Empress Wei Shuyin turned, ascended the dais again, and resumed her seat on her throne. She picked up her cup of tea, which had never stopped steaming, and took a sip as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't just pushed the empire to the brink of war.
She left a silenced Inquisitor, a shocked Emperor, and a terrified court in her wake. That night, in the Hall of Eternal Harmony, everyone learned a very important lesson. There might be two Sovereigns on the throne, but there was only one person in charge.