Snow still clung to Zhen Yu's cloak when the messenger arrived.
The boy was pale as parchment, hands trembling as he knelt before the Duke's tent. A scroll sealed with the imperial dragon pressed against his forehead.
"A–an edict from His Majesty!"
Zhen Yu broke the wax seal with his thumb. His soldiers leaned in with unease — whenever the King remembered his younger brother, trouble followed.
The parchment was short, its brushstrokes sharp and cold:
"The Duke will return at once to Jing. The King requires his service."
No explanation. No reason. The kind of summons that was not a request, but a leash.
The throne hall of Jing was vast and gleaming, yet Zhen Yu felt the air colder here than on any battlefield. Dragon pillars coiled toward painted heavens. Courtiers lined the jade floor like rows of silent daggers.
At the center, upon the golden throne, sat King Zhen Jian.
Regal. Beautiful. And utterly poisonous.
He smiled when Zhen Yu entered — the smile of a man who envied what he could not kill.
"Brother," the King said, voice warm enough to fool the court. "You've returned at last. The borders are safe, thanks to your blade. You are truly the shield of Jing."
Whispers rippled through the court.
The Duke of the King's Star.
The one the heavens chose.
Zhen Yu bowed low, his cold eyes fixed on the floor.
"Your Majesty overpraises. I am but a servant of the throne."
A servant who should have been king.
Jian's gaze lingered on him like a knife at his throat. Then he raised a jade hand, and the hall fell silent.
"There is a matter that requires your… particular talent."
The courtiers stirred. Some smirked, others paled. Everyone knew what "particular" meant when spoken by the King.
"Rumors reach me," Jian continued smoothly, "of a witch in the western mountains. They say she devours monsters and walks with blood in her veins. She was once disciple to Master Shen. He will reveal her exact lair."
The King's smile widened, thin and venomous.
"You will bring her to me. And she will capture the six monsters for my throne."
The words were honey. The meaning was venom.
The King was not simply sending him away. He was sending him into death — or worse, into chains spun by fate.
Zhen Yu felt the weight of every watching eye. He heard the hidden laughter of Lady Hua Qian, sharp-tongued whisperer who thrived on scandal.
But he did not flinch.
"As Your Majesty commands," Zhen Yu said.
And in the silence that followed, only the King's smile remained — bright, sharp, and hungry.
The trap had been set.