Today, in the heart of the Celestian Empire, the grand throne room hummed with a quiet tension.
Today, the Emperor’s seat was not occupied by its usual figure.
Instead, a strikingly handsome young man sat upon the throne, his presence commanding attention.
Draped in an azure daoist robe, intricate silver embroidery glimmered on his chest, where a finely crafted sword emblem rested, symbolizing power and authority.
Beside the throne, another seat, almost as opulent as the emperor’s own, had been placed.
In it sat a second young man, his bearing equally dignified, clad in a similar robe, the mirror of his companion.
Together, the two figures radiated a quiet, unspoken dominance that filled the room.
Before them, at the foot of the raised dais, stood the Emperor himself, his eyes fixed upon the two young men. His gilded robes, once a symbol of unmatched authority, now seemed to hang heavily upon his shoulders.
The intricate dragon motifs, woven with threads of gold and crimson, appeared to writhe uneasily in the flickering light of a thousand crystal chandeliers.
The Emperor’s weathered face, usually a mask of impassivity, now betrayed a complex tapestry of emotions. His eyes, once sharp as obsidian, now reflected a mix of reverence and trepidation.
The creases around his mouth deepened as he struggled to maintain his composure, his hands clasped tightly behind his back to conceal their slight tremor.
Beside the Emperor, Crown Prince Julius stood with his head bowed, his gaze fixed upon the polished marble floor.
His hands were tightly clenched, knuckles white with tension, and his body trembled ever so slightly.
He already knew who one of these figures was — Xander who had previously tested his talent to become a Transcendent.
But why had he suddenly appeared now, and why had they suddenly called for Isabella?
The timing felt ominous, and the silence in the hall only deepened his growing sense of dread.
As for the other man, although he didn’t know his identity, he could make an educated guess.
The young man sat close to Xander, his posture stiff yet composed, as if trying to mirror Xander’s imposing presence.
His robe, emblazoned with the symbol of a silver sword, gave away his affiliation with Azure Sword sect.
Though Julius didn’t recognize him, the man’s proximity to Xander suggested that he, too, was no ordinary figure.
Unease gnawed at him, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they had come here knowing how, after being rejected, he had joined another sect. The thought sent a deeper wave of apprehension through him.
However, the two of them didn’t even glance in his direction. They sat silently, their eyes closed as though they had no concern for his presence.
Their stillness was unnerving, like ancient statues unmoved by the trivial actions of mortals, and the room seemed to grow colder under the weight of their silence.
Suddenly,
Creak–!
With a creaking sound, the massive gilded doors of the throne room swung open, and a woman in her early twenties entered, attracting everyone’s attention.
She was Princess Isabella, her presence as captivating as the first rays of dawn breaking through a stormy night.
Her hair, a cascade of azure waves that mirrored the deep blue of the celestial seas, flowed gracefully down her back, adorned with delicate silver pins that twinkled like distant stars.
Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of blue, seemed to hold within them the very essence of the sky itself, both serene and tempestuous.
Isabella’s complexion was flawless, her skin reminiscent of the finest porcelain, with a soft luminescence that seemed to glow from within. Her cheeks held a gentle blush, as if kissed by the rosy fingers of the morning.
As she advanced, the hem of her gown whispered against the polished floor, the sound barely audible yet somehow filling the cavernous space.
As soon as Isabella entered, the two men opened their eyes, their gazes immediately locking onto her curvaceous figure.
Her every step seemed to draw their attention, her body a perfect blend of grace and temptation.
Xander felt a sudden heat surge through his body. His lower region burned with an intensity that left him restless, as if a fire had been ignited deep within him.
His mouth went dry, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he struggled to maintain his composure, but the sheer allure of her presence made it nearly impossible.
The soft sway of her hips, the way the gown clung to her, accentuating every curve — it was all too much. His pulse quickened, and the growing lust in his body was undeniable, his eyes hungrily tracing the outline of her form with every step she took.
Meanwhile, Isabella’s graceful steps faltered as she approached the dais, her eyes widening in a mixture of confusion and alarm.
The familiar sight of her father, the Emperor, seated upon the grand throne was replaced by an unexpected figure that sent a shiver of uncertainty down her spine.
The two young men, resplendent in their azure robes, gazed down at her with an air of quiet authority that seemed to transcend their apparent youth. Their presence was both mesmerizing and unsettling, like the calm before a storm.
Isabella’s gaze darted between the unfamiliar figures and her father, who stood at the foot of the dais, his usual commanding presence diminished by his position and the subtle tremor in his clasped hands.
The sight of the Emperor, reduced to a mere supplicant before his own throne, caused a knot of dread to appear in her heart.
The man seated on the throne leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with Isabella’s.
His mind spun darker, rougher, as he stared at her like prey. He could not stop the filthy thoughts, couldn’t stop picturing her stripped naked, trembling under his grip, helpless and exposed.
In that moment, she felt as if she were falling into an endless abyss, the world around her fading into insignificance.
“Now that Princess Isabella has arrived, we may begin,” the young man on the throne spoke, his voice resonating through the chamber with an otherworldly timbre, “Dorian, go and check her using the Qi Resonance Mirror!”
His eyes, deep and unfathomable as the night sky, remained fixed on Isabella.
The princess felt her breath catch in her throat, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.
As Isabella stood rooted to the spot, her mind racing to comprehend the scene before her, the young man, Dorian, seated beside the throne rose with fluid grace.
His movements were unhurried, almost ethereal, as if he were gliding rather than walking.
The soft rustle of his azure robe seemed to echo in the hushed chamber as he descended the dais steps.
In his hand appeared a mirror, seemingly conjured from thin air!
It was no ordinary looking glass, but an artifact of breathtaking beauty.
The frame was crafted from what appeared to be living silver, constantly shifting and flowing like quicksilver frozen in time.
Delicate tendrils of the frame curled and unfurled, forming intricate patterns that seemed to whisper ancient secrets.
The mirror’s surface was not glass, but a sheet of perfectly still water, defying gravity as it stood vertical in the young man’s grasp.
“Look into the mirror, Princess,” Dorian commanded, his voice a melodious whisper that seemed to bypass her ears and speak directly to her soul.
Isabella’s gaze was drawn to the mirror’s surface, unable to resist its pull.
As she stared into its depths, the watery surface began to swirl and shift, colors bleeding into existence like ink dropped into clear water.
In the end, a deep azure color emerged and began to pulse rhythmically, like a beating heart. Isabella felt a strange sensation wash over her, as if her very essence was being drawn into the mirror’s depths.
The room around her seemed to fade away, leaving only the mirror and the mesmerizing blue light.
The young man on the throne leaned forward, his eyes widening in ‘suprise’.
“Indeed, she also can cultivate,” he replied, his voice a mixture of surprise and approval.
A smile played at the corners of his lips, transforming his face from one of austere authority to one of disarming warmth.
“It seems now one more persons from the royal family are now going to the sect to become disciples. Congratulations, Maximilian.”
The Emperor stood there, stupefied, clearly not expecting such a turn of events. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly, like a fish gasping for air.
He struggled to find his voice, his eyes darting between his daughter and the mirror.
“I… wait,” he stammered, his voice trembling with uncertainty,”My lord, what do you mean by one more people?”
Even though Maximilian’s brother held the prestigious rank of a core disciple, he dared not show the slightest hint of disrespect.
The young man on the throne leaned back, his gaze sharpening slightly as he regarded the bewildered Emperor.
“It means, Maximilian, that your daughter possesses a rare gift. Like your son, Lucian, she too has the potential to become a Transcendent.”