Perspective: Bai Xuan Hua
He stood there, motionless — defying death as if he did not fear it.
My fiancé.
The man I had always believed to be cautious, rational, even too lazy to get himself into trouble, was now facing hundreds of enemies — about to fight the most powerful cultivator on all of Zhuge Island.
Zhuge Su Yeon, the current emperor, still in the intermediate stage of Spirit Condensation, was challenging someone two whole realms above him.
It was madness.
No — it was something beyond that.
It was an affront to the very logic of the world.
And by the looks of it, I wasn't the only one who thought so.
Lord Shu Lin stared at him as one would a lunatic.
The contempt in his eyes was as clear as the mocking smile forming on his lips.
"You can't be serious, Emperor," he said, emphasizing the word like an insult — a hollow title, drenched in irony.
But Yeon just kept smiling.
That same smile I had learned to fear and admire at once.
The smile of someone who knew something no one else did.
"Quite serious," he replied calmly. "Lord Shu may strike as he wishes. I'm ready."
For a moment, silence reigned.
The cutting wind swept between them like an invisible blade.
Shu Lin's eyes narrowed, analyzing, measuring, trying to discern whether Yeon hid something — a technique, a formation, a trap.
But nothing seemed out of place.
Then he murmured, with the false courtesy of a predator:
"In that case… forgive me, Emperor."
The irony in his tone was unmistakable.
He raised his right hand.
And Qi began to flow.
Spiritual energy condensed violently around him.
The air vibrated, and an overwhelming pressure fell upon the courtyard.
Even the jade floor groaned beneath the weight of that power.
In seconds, the Qi took shape — a colossal hand formed in the sky, forged entirely of spiritual energy.
Runes glowed red and gold across its surface, and the heat it emitted was enough to turn snow into vapor.
As it began to descend, I felt my heart stop.
It was as if the heavens themselves were collapsing upon us.
My body moved before my mind.
Instinctively, I took a step forward — but the presence of the four generals beside me stopped me cold.
I turned to them — Lady Zhu, Lady Han, Lady Yu, and Lady Shin — and saw the same expression on each of their faces: steady, cold, unshakable.
None of them moved.
And then I understood.
Those were his orders.
None of them could interfere.
But I… I couldn't accept that.
The air burned in my lungs.
I wanted to scream. To order them to act, to save him, to do something.
But the palm was already falling.
The impact made the sky itself tremble.
The sound — or rather, the absence of it — split the air like a silent thunderclap.
The snow vanished in an instant.
Everything became light and vapor.
And for an eternal moment, the world disappeared.
No palace.
No wind.
No ground beneath my feet.
Only a suffocating white void.
My heart seemed to forget how to beat.
My legs weakened.
And the only thought in my mind was: He's dead.
But then, from within the mist, a voice echoed.
"First strike."
It was him.
The fog began to thin, slowly.
And as the light faded, there he was — standing exactly where he had been, calm, unscathed, perfectly whole.
Not a scratch.
Not a single hair out of place.
"How… is this possible?" Lord Shu Lin muttered, disbelief tearing through his voice.
Yeon merely shrugged, as if nothing had happened.
He didn't even bother to respond — a gesture so simple, so disrespectful, it was practically a slap.
The Shu Clan leader frowned, anger flashing in his eyes.
This time, he didn't attack bare-handed.
A spiritual sword formed in his grasp — pure condensed Qi, its edge flickering with lethal energy.
Without warning, he lunged.
The strike came diagonally — swift, precise, a blade meant to split mountains.
But Yeon didn't move.
The impact rang out, sharp as steel against steel.
A thin golden barrier flared around his body, completely blocking the blow.
The spiritual sword shattered against it, bursting into sparks.
"Second strike, Lord Shu," Yeon said evenly.
"You have one more."
The smile on his face was light, almost friendly — the opposite of the growing terror spreading among the Shu ranks.
Lord Shu no longer smiled.
He stepped back ten paces, his expression now stripped of arrogance — only focus remained.
He took position, and I recognized it instantly.
It was the Shu Clan's strongest martial art — The Shattering Tempest.
A deadly technique, forbidden in formal duels.
And Lord Shu had mastered it long ago.
Qi swirled violently around him, forming vortices that tore ice from the ground.
The air crackled.
Space itself seemed to twist.
Then he struck.
A single thrust.
Direct.
Lethal.
Aimed straight at my fiancé's heart.
And once again, Yeon didn't move.
The blow met the golden barrier — and stopped.
Not because of strength, but because reality itself refused to let him be harmed.
"This… is impossible!" Shu Lin shouted, stumbling back. "You've—"
Before he could finish, the world shook.
Qi erupted around Yeon.
The golden barrier pulsed — alive — and what had once been mere defense now expanded, radiating outward like a newborn sun.
The ground split open.
The runes carved into the palace walls flared in answer.
And the power flowing from him…
It was familiar.
Terrifyingly familiar.
I had felt it once before — the same power that had once emanated from the former emperor.
Golden Core.
Early stage.
Yeon smiled.
"If I hadn't broken through," he said casually, "how could my father rest easy, knowing he'd left so many wives unprotected?"
His voice sliced through the silence — calm, almost playful.
"Now, Lady Shin," he continued, turning his gaze toward the general at my right, "refresh my memory. What is the punishment for treason?"
The woman straightened.
Her expression was stone.
"Answering His Majesty," she said, voice steady as steel, "the punishment for treason against the throne is… death."
The words fell like a divine decree.
The faces of the Shu cultivators went pale.
Their whispers turned to terror.
They had come to demand power — and without realizing it, had just signed their own death sentence.
"What a shame," Yeon replied softly.
And then, the world turned to light.
His body began to glow — first faintly, then brightly, then unbearably.
In seconds, there was no man — only brilliance.
A golden light that burned the air, purging everything around it.
The ground quaked.
The snow vanished.
The shadows fled.
And then — silence.
Absolute silence.
When the light finally faded, the world seemed changed.
The courtyard shimmered with a golden afterglow, and the air smelled of iron and ozone.
Yeon stood before me, smiling — calm, serene, as if nothing had happened.
He leaned closer, his voice brushing my ear, light and teasing:
"See? I told you everything would be fine."
But I barely heard him.
My eyes were locked on the courtyard before us — frozen in disbelief.
Bodies covered the ground.
The Shu Clan cultivators — every one of them — lay motionless.
Their fates uncertain, their silence absolute.
Even Lord Shu Lin.
And in that moment, I realized the Zhuge Empire had just regained something it had lost since the old emperor's departure:
Fear.