The imperial court was unusually silent.
Within the highest chamber of the Jade Council, a meeting unfolded not sanctioned by the emperor. Behind closed lacquered doors and layers of silencing seals, seven senior ministers sat around a jade-inlaid table, their expressions grave and voices hushed.
"He's taken the boy on a journey again," Lord Zhao muttered, his thin fingers tightening around a scroll. "Another excursion to chase legends—while the empire weakens."
"And you still think it's a simple affair?" scoffed Minister Lin, his beard trembling. "This union isn't lust. It's prophecy. The priests whisper that Rui's bloodline carries the remnants of godhood. And the emperor… he's in love."
At that word, many of them grimaced.
"A ruler cannot afford to love blindly," said General Han. "Especially not someone like him. That boy was born under a cursed sign. He's from the very bloodline we once waged war to extinguish. If he awakens, if that temple truly responds to him…"
The head minister, Yu Lian, lifted his gaze. Cold. Calculating.
"Then the empire will no longer belong to mortals. It will belong to gods."
A tense silence followed.
"And so?" Minister Lin asked quietly. "Do we continue watching?"
"No," Yu Lian said. "We act. I have already sent envoys to the southern kingdoms. The Mountain Lords will answer. They too fear divine blood returning. We strike before the eclipse. Before he awakens."
"A civil war?" General Han asked.
"A sacrifice," Yu Lian corrected. "For the good of the empire."
The Temple's Heart
Back beneath the Yuangu Mountains, Rui and Li Yuan stood before a second sealed chamber deep within the temple.
It had taken them another half-day to decipher the runes around the altar. The inscription was clear now:
"Only when the blood of the moon walks willingly beside the heart of conquest, shall the gate be opened."
When Rui placed his hand over the sigil, and Li Yuan mirrored him with his own palm beside it, the ground trembled. A soft light spread between their hands, blooming like a lotus, and the chamber door began to shift open.
Inside, they found a sanctum.
The walls shimmered with glyphs that pulsed faintly when Rui stepped forward. At the center was a basin filled with starlight-colored water.
"It's reacting to your presence," Li Yuan whispered.
Rui stared at the water, something ancient stirring behind his eyes.
"I feel like I've stood here before."
"You haven't."
"I have." Rui looked at him, pupils dilated, voice trembling. "Not in this life."
Li Yuan's breath caught.
"Reincarnation?"
"I don't know. But I remember a war… flames… a god who fell in love with a mortal king."
He touched the water. Visions flashed behind his eyes—wings of light, an empire bathed in gold, a dagger in the heart of a temple.
And then—darkness.
He gasped, stepping back.
Li Yuan caught him by the shoulders. "What did you see?"
"Destruction. Death. Because they loved."
Rui looked up, face pale.
"It happened before. And it will happen again if we're not careful."
Night Three: A Shared Memory
They didn't speak much after that.
The temple had revealed its warning. Rui was quiet by the fire that night, staring into its flicker as if it might offer more answers.
Li Yuan sat beside him, uncertain.
He'd seen the fear in Rui's eyes. He hated it. Hated that power, fate, and fear were carving distance between them again.
And yet—he couldn't deny he felt it too.
They were playing with a legacy older than kings.
When Rui finally spoke, it was barely a whisper. "Do you think we're repeating their mistake?"
Li Yuan turned slowly. "Only if we let fear guide us."
"But fear is all I've ever known," Rui admitted, voice trembling.
Li Yuan reached out and gently brushed his knuckles along Rui's jaw.
"Then let me show you something else."
Rui didn't pull away.
For a moment, the silence wrapped around them like silk—tender and fragile.
But then Rui stood abruptly. "We leave tomorrow."
And just like that, the space returned.
The prince turned away, and the fire crackled on.
The Gathering Storm
Back in the capital, banners from foreign kingdoms began arriving at the outer cities—not with war drums, but with hunting parties, caravans, and "envoys." The Emperor's Watch reported increased gatherings in the southern quarters, the movement of armed men cloaked as merchants, and whispers in the alleys.
Li Yuan's council remained silent.
Too silent.
By the time the emperor and Rui returned to the capital, the wind in the city had shifted. The sky felt heavier. The people, warier. The palace colder.
And Minister Yu Lian stood with a calm smile as they dismounted.
"Your Majesty," he said smoothly, "we have much to discuss. The foreign courts have sent gifts and couriers. They offer rare tributes to honor your wisdom. The banquet is set for tomorrow."
Li Yuan narrowed his eyes. "Tributes?"
"Yes," Yu Lian bowed. "Even kingdoms that once rivaled us now come to kneel."
Rui stood slightly behind Li Yuan, eyes fixed on the minister's smile.
It didn't reach his eyes.
He suspected that there was something more to this "tribute".