Perspective: Zhuge Yui Lan
Early stage of the Golden Core Realm — that was the power my brother revealed today.
But even if I didn't fully grasp the extent of his strength, I doubted that was his limit.
Zhuge Su Yeon had always been a man of secrets — each one deeper than the last.
The air still smelled of scorched Qi, and the jade floor, cracked in several places, glowed faintly with residual gold light.
Guards were gathering the wounded and carrying the unconscious beyond the gates.
Snow had begun to fall again, covering the traces of destruction with a deceptive calm — a false serenity meant to hide the fact that, minutes ago, this place had nearly become a graveyard.
As I watched, movement caught my eye.
Yeon was already walking toward me.
He didn't seem rushed.
In fact, his pace was that of a man leaving a tea ceremony, not a battlefield.
His clothes were completely different from the ones he'd worn at breakfast.
Now he wore the full imperial mantle: layers of white and gray fabric embroidered in gold and jade, with the emblem of the soaring swan upon his chest.
The high collar stood perfectly straight, and the dark sash around his waist shimmered faintly, inscribed with runes that only the emperor had the right to wear.
The wind swept from the side, making his robe flutter like a living banner.
The golden light of dusk reflected off the edges of the fabric, giving him an aura that made it seem as though he had been born for this role.
And yet… his face remained unchanged.
Calm.
Serene.
Peaceful.
Nothing about him suggested that, just minutes ago, he had revealed enough power to terrify all of Zhuge Island and annihilate its second strongest clan with a single strike.
Nothing at all.
His dark, depthless eyes held the same quiet stillness as always.
And when our gazes met, he simply smiled.
A soft, almost brotherly smile — without the slightest trace of pride or tension.
He kept walking toward me, unbothered by the looks of awe — and for some, fear — that followed him.
The generals stood motionless, watching him pass with the reverence one would give a god.
But to me…
To me, he didn't look like the emperor who had just bent the world to his will.
He looked simply like my older brother.
The same smile.
The same relaxed posture.
The same gaze that always seemed to understand more than it said — and laugh more than it should.
He stopped a few steps away.
Close enough for the wind to carry the faint scent of imperial incense mixed with the chill of fresh snow.
"My dear sister," he said lightly, almost playfully, "tell me…"
The pause was deliberate.
His smile widened.
"—Did they force you to attend my inquisition so you could torture me with needles?"
The words came out so naturally that, for an instant, I forgot this was the same man who, minutes earlier, had made the ground tremble beneath his feet.
And just like that — with that calm, teasing voice — the emperor Zhuge Su Yeon, the man who had just redefined power on Zhuge Island, became, before me once more, simply my older brother.
For a moment, I was nearly speechless at the direction of his thoughts.
My brother's ability to imagine conspiracies was truly impressive.
Perhaps that was what made him so good at hiding and plotting — and, of course, at surviving where others would have fallen.
He saw secrets even where none existed, turning every shadow into a plausible hypothesis.
But this time, he was wrong.
And, curiously, that small mistake gave me an opening — a chance to resolve the complications I had been avoiding for far too long.
I smiled softly and nodded, answering:
"No, brother. I simply have something to tell you — something I believe you should know."
His expression changed immediately.
The smile faded slightly, not enough to vanish, but enough to show he was intrigued.
His black, inscrutable eyes now observed me with that quiet focus — the same look he used to give ministers before deciding whether to promote them or send them into exile.
"Well then," he said, folding his arms in a casual gesture, "in that case, this emperor is at your disposal."
His tone was still light, still playful — mocking his own title as always.
He tilted his head slightly and added, almost warmly:
"What is it I should know, dear sister?"
I took a deep breath — not just with my lungs, but with my heart.
The words I was about to say could become a complete disaster…
Or the seed of something that might one day save all of Zhuge Island from a tragic fate.
Uncertainty weighed on my shoulders.
But looking at him, I knew there was no turning back.
The cold wind swept between the courtyard columns, the sound of the imperial banners mingling with the crackle of the spiritual torches.
Below, the ice was beginning to reform, erasing the scars of battle.
It was almost ironic — the world was healing, yet the decision I was about to make could open those wounds all over again.
I looked into his eyes as seriously as I could and said:
"I believe brother Han is in love with the youngest daughter of the Yuan family."
The words left my lips calm yet sharp — cutting the air like a blade.
Yeon's expression shifted instantly.
Not to anger — but to concentration.
The once-light smile disappeared completely.
His eyes narrowed, and even the air seemed to grow heavy, as if the Qi itself had paused to listen.
I knew exactly what he was thinking.
You see… on Zhuge Island, where nearly eighty percent of the population was female and only twenty percent male, polygamy wasn't just common — it was cultural.
Men could have multiple wives without anyone batting an eye.
It was seen as natural, a matter of balance, not morality.
An imperial prince with five or six wives wouldn't raise any eyebrows.
Even ten wouldn't be surprising.
And in the case of our imperial father — who accumulated twenty-five wives over his lifetime — that was considered nothing more than… genetic exuberance.
But there was one exception.
One name that stood completely apart from that tradition.
Zhuge Han.
Our youngest brother — the third imperial prince.