Princess Of Asharyn

Chapter 1

Yán Mei Ling POV

My mornings always began the same way: the soft rustling of the wind through the bamboo groves and the distant chirping of birds. The Yán Clan estate was my sanctuary and my prison, a secluded world far removed from the bustling chaos of society. At least that is what I concluded from the many stories told to me by my aunts and the maids. The estate, nestled in the forest just outside the capital Ránshāomíng, was a fortress of tradition. Tall stone walls, ivy-covered and weathered with age, enclosed green shrubs, white stoned pathways, wooden platforms and walkways that linked buildings together. The residence itself was a sprawling compound with sloping roofs and intricately carved wooden beams that spoke of our noble heritage.

Today was no different. I tied my braided hair into a high ponytail and adjusted my training robes, the fabric heavy with expectation. My morning routine was as regimented as the drills that awaited me.

As I stepped out of my quarters, the familiar scent of morning dew and blooming gardenias greeted me. The Yán estate was waking up, its ancient walls bathed in the soft light of dawn. I could hear the distant clatter of maids starting their day and the murmur of my sworn siblings within the main hall.

With a deep breath, I turned away from the comforting confines of my home and made my way to the back of the estate. The heavy wooden gate creaked open as I pushed it, revealing the path that led to the training grounds. I paused at the entrance, the torii gate standing tall and proud, its wooden beams wrapped with sacred ropes and paper streamers fluttering in the breeze. Stepping through the gate always felt like crossing into another world, one where the expectations of the Yán family and the weight of my destiny pressed heavily upon me.

The stone steps stretched out before me, each one a testament to the countless feet that had walked this path before me. The lanterns, covered in thick moss, seemed to glow faintly in the early light, guiding my way. I began my descent, the cool air of the forest brushing against my skin and filling my lungs with the earthy scent of pine and damp leaves.

With each step, the sounds of the estate grew fainter, replaced by the serene whispers of the forest. Birds chirped high in the canopy, their melodies intertwining with the rustle of leaves and the distant gurgle of a hidden stream. Sunlight pierced through the dense foliage, casting a mosaic of light and shadow on the path ahead, creating an ethereal, almost otherworldly atmosphere.

As I neared the training grounds, the dense canopy of trees encircled the open area, their branches forming a protective ring around this sacred space. In the center of the clearing was a large concrete sun-shaped symbol, its rays stretching out in all directions. The symbol was intricately carved into the ground, its surface marred by the markings of countless training sessions and battles. Deep grooves and nicks from swords crisscrossed the symbol, telling tales of the warriors who had trained here before me. Scorch marks, blackened and charred, bore witness to the fiery trials that had taken place.

Surrounding the sun symbol were rock podiums, each standing tall and weathered by time. The podiums formed a perfect circle around the symbol, their surfaces smooth from years of use. Some were adorned with old, faded markings, remnants of past training exercises and battles fought long ago. Others bore fresh scars, their stone surfaces chipped and cracked from recent training sessions.

The ground around the symbol was packed earth, worn smooth by the passage of feet and the weight of countless battles. Here and there, patches of grass struggled to reclaim their place, only to be trampled underfoot once more. The scent of earth and pine filled the air, mingling with the faint, lingering smell of smoke and metal.

Tall trees loomed overhead, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. Sunlight filtered through the branches, casting dappled shadows on the ground and illuminating the symbol with a warm, golden glow. The training ground felt timeless, a place where the past and present converged, and where the spirit of the Yán family lived on through every scar and mark.