Chapter 1: Prologue

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For over a hundred years, the Heavenly Saint Dynasty had reigned supreme, its emperors wise, ministers loyal, the nation prosperous, and the people at peace. The dynasty was the most powerful on the continent of Shenzhou, with smaller nations paying tribute and swearing allegiance year after year. But beneath the century-long prosperity, rot and corruption quietly grew. With the regime at a crossroads, the surface calm hid turbulent undercurrents. The greatest powers among the imperial family lay with the four princely manors: Prince Rong, Prince Yun, Prince De, and Prince Xiao.

The emperor had aged, and his crown prince and other sons were in their prime. The older generation of princes from these four great manors were gradually withdrawing from the political stage, leaving their heirs—young, ambitious noblemen—eager to assume the legacy and rise to prominence. These young lords, skilled in both the arts and martial pursuits, were entangled in a web of intrigue and covert strife, clashing in silence without breaking the fragile veneer of peace. And so, the political landscape remained at an impasse.

Li Yun, the youngest and most brilliant general in the National Security Bureau, died in service to her country, only to find her soul pulled into another world. She awoke in the Heavenly Saint Dynasty, reborn as Yun Qianyuet, the only legitimate daughter of Prince Yun's Manor. Her arrival would be the catalyst to shatter the stalemate.

As Li Yun opened her eyes, the scene before her filled her with awe. A lakeside pavilion, its red-lacquered railings, and jade-green panels basked in warm, gentle breezes. The winding corridors, lush trees, and exotic flowers presented a luxurious beauty beyond words. Rare species of flowers bloomed beside the railings, while pairs of jade-colored mandarin ducks and red-crested cranes, creatures nearly extinct in her time, roamed freely on the lake. The rock sculptures, the pavilions, every detail exuded elegance and wealth, surpassing even the grandeur of the gardens of Suzhou or the imperial gardens of Beijing.

Just as she was lost in thought, a persistent, indignant voice spoke beside her.

"My lady, you must teach those shameless women a lesson! Who do they think they are to dare strike you? At today's poetry gathering, no less—Her Majesty the Empress is present, too! Their audacity is boundless!"

"If you ask me, my lady, you've been far too lenient with them. If this goes on, His Highness the Crown Prince might well be bewitched by one of those lowly harlots!"

"Not to mention that His Highness saw you being slighted just now and ignored it completely, simply walking away. It's infuriating!"

"My lady, you must remind the Crown Prince who he is supposed to marry. At this rate, even weeds would dare look down on you!"

"... My lady? Why haven't you said anything? Are you listening to me?"

The irritable voice shattered the enchanting view, snapping Li Yun out of her trance. She turned to see a young girl dressed as an ancient maidservant standing beside her.

The girl was around twelve or thirteen, holding a palm fan and fanning her lightly, though her eyes glinted with anger. Her youthful face bore an indignant look, and her expression froze briefly as she noticed Li Yun's dazed stare.

Li Yun looked at the girl in quiet confusion, her thoughts growing even more bewildered.

After a brief pause, the maid's anger was replaced by a trace of worry. She hesitantly asked, "My lady, are you... are you feeling unwell?"

Li Yun stayed silent, the daze in her eyes giving way to a sharp focus as she fixed her gaze intently on the girl.

"Mis—Miss..." The girl trembled under Li Yun's piercing stare, faltering as her hand holding the fan stilled. She took a step back, then knelt with a "thud," her initial boldness now replaced by fear and uncertainty. Her voice, which had held such conviction, now trembled as she stammered, "Please forgive me, my lady. I... I shouldn't have spoken ill of His Highness the Crown Prince."

His Highness the Crown Prince? Li Yun's eyes narrowed slightly. Was this some kind of act? Who dared to play such a trick on her? Did they have a death wish? She glanced down, her gaze falling on the girl's forehead, which was beginning to bleed. The smooth, dark surface of the obsidian floor reflected her blood under the sun, a vivid contrast of black and red. Her thoughts raced.

If this were an act, where were the cameras and crew? And if it was just a performance, this girl was going to shocking lengths, her forehead already a mess of blood and flesh. Without medical attention, such an injury would leave a scar. Who in this day and age would self-mutilate for a paycheck?

If it wasn't an act, then... where on earth was she?

"Please, my lady, forgive me this once! I won't dare speak out of turn again!" the girl begged, her voice filled with terror as she knocked her forehead against the floor repeatedly. The clear sound of her skull striking the hard obsidian echoed, each impact leaving a fresh mark of red on the dark stone, making the floor seem to shine even more vividly.

Li Yun's eyes were fixed on the spreading pool of blood, her pupils narrowing. Suddenly, she tilted her head back, tracing the sunlight on the ground upward to the sky. The noonday sun blazed down with blinding intensity, casting a golden glow over everything. She only looked for a moment before her gaze returned to the girl's persistent form, her head knocking rhythmically on the floor.

"Please, my lady..." The girl seemed oblivious to the pain, frantically begging for forgiveness between each violent bow.

"Get up..." Li Yun finally spoke, her voice low and slightly hoarse, tinged with a hint of unfamiliar youthfulness and uncertainty. Though it was only a few words, her tone was soft, almost melodic, like the call of a songbird—though marred by hoarseness. Realizing the unfamiliar sound of her own voice, she froze, looking down at herself.

She wore an elegant lavender silk gown embroidered with large, lifelike camellia flowers. The petals and leaves, finely detailed, gleamed with threads of exquisite sheen—a mark of expert craftsmanship. The dress reached down to her feet, the hem lined with gold, woven from real threads of gold.

Her hand, resting against her head as she leaned on a stone table carved from pure white jade, was small, delicate, and pale, with a jade bracelet of unmatched translucence circling her wrist. Priceless golden hairpins and dangling ornaments adorned her head, their intricacy and worth clear from a single glance.

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