Yue Ling stepped outside, her presence drawing the eyes of the house staff. They stared, wide-eyed, as she approached her grandfather, a figure of elegance they'd never seen before. Maid Zhū Lán (朱兰), who had been tasked with taking care of her, was the first to break the silence.
"Madam, did you use a beauty pill?" Zhū Lán asked, her eyes wide with admiration. "I must have one as well. You look more beautiful than Ye'er... Ye'er's offspring truly is a sight to behold."
Yue Ling barely acknowledged the comment, her mind focused on what was ahead. "We're going for an adventure," she said softly, her voice distant. "At the same time, I will train. But for now..."
She paused, thinking of the attention she would attract. "I need to change our appearance. I'm not ready for all eyes to be on me."
With a small flick of her wrist, she activated the disguise technique her grandfather had taught her long ago.
Swish!
In an instant, Yue Ling appeared as a small, old child, no older than a hundred years. Her body shrank, becoming almost comical, like a little pumpkin in the garb of a villager. She looked nothing like the striking woman she was.
Grandfather Yue, beside her, also changed his appearance, transforming into a much younger man. He looked as though he was taking his daughter out for a stroll, leading her through the streets. It was a sight that made even the sharp-eyed Butler San pause in surprise.
"It's been so long since Master has used the art of disguise," Butler San whispered, eyes wide. "To think he would still employ such techniques."
With their appearances successfully altered, the two of them left the hidden world, tearing a space open to step outside. They moved swiftly, heading for the outskirts of Toudou Village.
The Emperor sat in his official meeting hall, the vast space filled with the low murmurs of ministers, each one more uneasy than the last. They stood before a large table, their faces grim as they shared the disturbing news.
"We've lost over seven hundred lives, Your Majesty," one of the ministers reported, his voice quivering. "The devastation in Yìchūn Village is unlike anything we've seen before. We suspect the work of Xié Suì and his followers. There have been whispers—strange, disjointed poems coming from the human realm. They speak of darkness, of souls lost and rivers running dry."
The Emperor's gaze sharpened. His mind raced, trying to piece together the unsettling puzzle. He rose from his throne, his presence so powerful it silenced the room.
"What are these poems saying?" the Emperor demanded, his voice colder than the air around them.
The minister swallowed hard. "Your Majesty, the poems... they speak of death and rebirth, of a storm that shall sweep across the heavens and leave only despair in its wake. The words are strange, like ancient curses."
"A Storm Will Rise"
In the heart of Yìchūn, where the rivers cease,
The old gods waken, the earth will weep.
Xié Suì stirs, with whispers that bleed,
When the sky cracks open, the heavens shall plead.
Death walks in shadows, rebirth in the dark,
The fire of the stars now leaves its mark.
The Emperor's crown shall fall to the ground,
When the storm calls forth the lost and the found.
Hear the wind, feel the roar,
The skies will burn—forevermore."
The Emperor's fists clenched, his mind racing. The mention of Xié Suì was enough to ignite his rage. This was no mere coincidence. The Emperor's fury was palpable. He turned toward his most trusted minister, his voice a low growl.
"Where did you hear of these poems?" the Emperor demanded. His eyes burned with a fierce intensity. "Who dares to spread such blasphemy?"
The minister hesitated before speaking, his voice barely audible. "They come from the villages near Yìchūn. It is said they are being whispered from mouth to mouth. No one dares to speak openly, but the fear is growing. The storm... it's drawing near."