Princess Shen Yuefeng awoke from deep meditation in the heart of a shadowed chamber.

  For five long years, she had remained in seclusion, tempering her soul and body within the silence of cultivation.

  The still air trembled as her immortal sense unfurled, sweeping through the room, the castle, and far beyond its jade walls.

  Below, her servants froze mid-motion as that familiar, majestic presence brushed against their spirits. Then, realization struck them like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

  “The princess—she’s emerged from seclusion!” cried one.

  A soft smile curved the princess’s lips. She rose from her meditation mat, and a pulse of violet light burst from her body. Dust that had settled on her robes for half a decade disintegrated into nothingness. Her long hair, black as moonless midnight, cascaded over her shoulders as she strode to the door and descended the spiral steps.

  At the foot of the stairs, three servants awaited her.

  The first was Elder Zhao Tianlan, her personal bodyguard, an aged man with silver hair tied in a warrior’s knot, his posture still as sharp as his blade. His once-black eyes glimmered faintly with the light of years spent guarding the royal line. Beside him stood Mei Qianrou, a graceful elderly woman, poised and elegant even in her simple servant’s robes. The third was Ling Xue, the youngest among them—a bright-eyed girl whose nervous hands betrayed her inexperience, though her loyalty burned pure and unwavering.

  Princess Yuefeng’s indigo robes rippled softly as she descended the last steps. Her face was a flawless sculpture—noble brows, luminous skin, and eyes the color of twilight stars, holding both wisdom and melancholy.

  “Zhao Tianlan,” she said, her voice smooth as flowing silk, “how fares my twin brother?”

  The old bodyguard’s expression darkened. He exhaled heavily before answering.

  “Reporting to Your Highness—Prince Lian Yuchen stands on the brink of condensing a Golden Dao. Yet, he has declared that once he succeeds, he will wed you to preserve the purity of your shared bloodline.”

  Mei Qianrou’s eyes flashed with disdain. “That boy is truly sick in the head,” she said coldly. “Who in the heavens would seek to wed his own sister?”

  The princess sighed softly. “He does not desire me as a man desires a woman,” she murmured. “He only wishes to harness our twin spirits to forge a high-tier Golden Dao. His hunger is not for me, but for power. I understand his reasoning.”

  Ling Xue hesitated, biting her lip. “Then… Your Highness, does that mean you would consent to such a union? To… dual cultivate with the prince?”

  The princess passed them in silence, her robe trailing like mist. She approached the arched window and gazed out upon the Immortal City sprawling below—a sea of shimmering roofs and floating towers, bridges of light arcing between mountains wreathed in golden clouds. Spirit rivers wound through jade forests, their waters glimmering with immortal qi.

  The moonlight washed across her features, tracing the faint sorrow in her celestial visage.

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  After a long moment, her voice drifted back to her servants, soft yet cutting; “My brother is a sick man,” she said. “His heart has long been consumed by greed. If power lies beyond the abyss, he will leap willingly into its depths. He would even claim his own blood, his own twin sister, if it meant his hand could grasp the Dao.”

  “Disgusting,” Mei Qianrou spat, her voice trembling with fury.

  “Atrocious,” whispered Ling Xue indignantly.

  “But my brother does not know one thing…” the princess continued softly, turning her head slightly toward her servants—not fully, just enough for the moonlight streaming through the high windows to fall upon her face. The light caught her features in a strange contrast, half shrouded in shadow, half aglow in brilliance. “I,” she said calmly, “am also a sick woman… and I am even more power-hungry than he is.” A delicate smile curved her lips, pure and saintly, yet laced with quiet malice.

  Her handmaidens’ eyes flickered with surprise at the turn of her words.

  “Mei Qianrou,” the princess suddenly said, her eyes glinting faintly. “What did Reverend-Mother Xuan Yuhua foretell?”

  The elder servant bowed quickly, her voice steady and respectful. “Reporting to Your Highness—Reverend-Mother Xuan Yuhua revealed that the chance of a Heavenly Dao Body appearing in the mortal realm within this era is two in ten. She believes the odds too slim to warrant a journey. However, she added that if the princess feels the call to pursue it, the choice remains her own.”

  The princess nodded, then turned to her bodyguard. “Zhao Tianlan, did you find the space-tearing silk I requested?”

  The old man inclined his head once. “I did.”

  The younger handmaid gasped, eyes wide. “Princess—you’re not truly planning to go to the mortal realm, are you?”

  A light chuckle escaped the princess’s throat. She stepped toward them with graceful, unhurried strides. “Ten years ago, I dreamt of a Heavenly Dao Body appearing in the mortal realm,” she said softly. “For as long as I can remember, my dreams have generally foretold truth. When I asked for Reverend-Mother’s prediction, I did not seek reassurance of success, but confirmation that possibility exists. Even if the chance were one in ten thousand, I would still go. I only needed to know it was not zero.”

  She stopped before them, her gaze sharpening. “If I can find and devour the Heavenly Dao Body, I will be able to condense… a Diamond Dao.”

  The air seemed to shudder from those words. The two handmaidens’ eyes gleamed with awe. Even the old guard’s eyes shone with anticipation.

  The princess's twin brother, Prince Shen Yuchen, was preparing to condense a Golden Dao, a feat that might one day elevate him to godhood.

  But a Diamond Dao? That was a legend, a myth whispered even among immortals. It was said that those who reached that height did not merely ascend to godhood—they ruled it. They became god-sovereigns, esteemed existences capable of even slaying gods!

  The princess and her twin brother were already figures of renown in the Immortal Realm. The Immortal Realm was a tier above the Mortal Realm. But above the Immortal Realm stood the even more mysterious Divine Realm, the home of the gods.

  It was said that in the Divine Realm, where divinities ran rampant and commanded prestige, the number of god-sovereigns could be counted on one hand!

  Mere godhood? The princess wasn't so uninspired. She wanted to rule gods, not be their equal.

  Without another word, she drew a small crystal vial from her sleeve. Biting the tip of her finger, she allowed ten drops of her luminous red blood to fall within. Each drop dimmed her complexion slightly, but her expression remained serene.

  “This vial,” she said, stoppering it carefully, “contains nine drops of my blood essence and one drop of my heart’s blood. Use it to refine a convincing clone of me. Have it appear in the city from time to time—enough to allay suspicion.” She handed the vial to Mei Qianrou, who accepted it with trembling hands.

  Then the princess turned to the old guard, her eyes glinting with resolve. “Zhao Tianlan, we depart for the Mortal Realm.”

  The younger handmaid’s voice quavered. “Y-You’re leaving right now, Princess?”

  The princess smiled faintly as she walked toward the great obsidian doors of the castle. “There is no time like the present,” she said.

  The doors opened with a low, thunderous groan as moonlight spilled across the floor. With Zhao Tianlan close behind, the princess stepped forward, her indigo robe trailing like the dawn shadow of an approaching storm. “I will return in a decade,” she said, then paused her steps and glanced back at her two handmaidens. “… Either to warm my brother’s bed, or to relieve him of his head. Which ever proves more useful, I don’t mind."