After passing through the gates of Pingxiao and entering deeper into Bird Clan territory, Mo Yuchen and Feng Xiu Lan rode toward the town's Sky Crossing Arena, a central public transport hub for travelers heading into the heart of the clan.
Unlike high-ranking immortals who soared across the skies using flying swords, wings from their true forms, or luxurious A-grade sky ships carved from spirit jade and infused with celestial runes, most commoners relied on the Yùniǎo Ferry, a massive, sky-bound transport vessel shaped like a blend of boat and bird. Its wooden wings flapped slowly with the hum of low-grade talisman engines, carrying passengers across the land through the air, one choppy glide at a time.
At the Sky Crossing Arena, a series of docks floated in midair, connected by rope bridges and glowing runic planks. The place buzzed with activity—immortals of all levels shouting for space, vendors pushing carts of sizzling snacks, and impatient passengers jostling for spots aboard the next departing ferry.
Mo Yuchen and Feng Xiu Lan left their horses in the Arena's beast yard and joined the queue to board the Yùniǎo. No sooner, after paying in silver, had they stepped onto the vessel than a wave of rowdy farmers, shirts half-buttoned and tempers fully unbuttoned, began elbowing their way forward.
"Watch it!" Feng Xiu Lan barked, nearly stumbling backward as a stocky man shoved past her, dragging a sack of sweet potatoes the size of a child.
She raised a hand, ready to summon a flicker of qi.
But Mo Yuchen moved first, stepping in front of her like a solid mountain wall. One arm casually blocked her, shielding her from the push and pull of the crowd. His face was neutral, but his stance was firm.
"What are you—" she started, then noticed the barely-there shake of his head.
"We can't attract attention," Mo Yuchen muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.
Feng Xiu Lan pressed her lips together, frustration brewing in her chest. Still, she let it go.
By the time they arrived at the capital, the majestic city of Luanchao, meaning Nest of the Divine Luan, the sky was tinged with late afternoon gold. The city was a wonder of high towers, feather-shaped flags, and spiraling courtyards built into mountain terraces. One side faced the vast Eastern Sea, its turquoise waves stretching into the horizon, while the other overlooked the bustling city itself, carved into jade-colored cliffs and dotted with white pagodas that sparkled in the sunlight.
After disembarking with the crowds, Mo Yuchen and Feng Xiu Lan blended effortlessly into the stream of traders, farmers, and hawkers. Soldiers manned the stone platforms at the dock's edge but didn't spare them more than a passing glance.
They carried their belongings in simple cloth wraps tied across their backs, sturdy but humble, the kind used by traveling herbalists and field cultivators.
As Feng Xiu Lan passed by the colorful stalls lining the city street, her eyes gleamed with delight. She moved from one shopfront to another, distracted by roasted chestnuts, spicy dumplings, shimmering hairpins, and embroidered fans. Her gaze stopped at a stall where an array of beautiful crossbody pouches hung from bamboo hooks. One, in particular, caught her eye—a deep crimson silk pouch embroidered with golden feathers, its clasp shaped like a phoenix beak.
Mo Yuchen trailed behind, several paces back, lips tight with annoyance as he dodged a squawking chicken and three bouncing children. "Stay focused," he muttered to himself.
Just as Feng Xiu Lan reached for the pouch, the street suddenly hushed. Vendors stepped aside, customers cleared the way, and even the loud hawkers fell silent. Two carriages, intricately carved and inlaid with golden designs of soaring birds and flame motifs, approached with pomp. Each was flanked by uniformed soldiers. Beside the first carriage, a line of female attendants glided forward, silk robes swaying in unison. Behind the second, male attendants followed with practiced grace.
One of the maids lifted her chin and called out, "Make way! The crowned prince of the Bird Clan, Feng Yanzhao, and Princess Feng Meiyu are on a royal promenade!"
The carriages halted with soft jingles of harness bells.
Feng Xiu Lan blinked and looked up. Mo Yuchen, still half-hidden behind a spice stall, gave her a subtle shake of his head. She nodded slightly and turned back to the pouch, hoping to quickly make her purchase. She grabbed the hanging pouch and placed it in front of her on the counter. Feng Xiu Lan quickly dug into her own modest coin pouch, counting out silver bits one by one.
"I'll take this," she said, glancing at the vendor, who nodded with a grunt and reached for a paper to wrap it.
But before she could finish her count, a hand darted out beside her.
Snatch.
The pouch disappeared from the counter.
Feng Xiu Lan turned sharply. A slender maid with high cheekbones and a sharper expression clutched the pouch in her manicured hands.
"That pouch would be perfect for Her Highness," the maid said with breezy arrogance.
Feng Xiu Lan's eyes narrowed. "It was already on the counter. I was about to pay for it."
The maid lifted her chin. "But you hadn't. Which means it wasn't yours yet."
"That's not how this works," Feng said coldly. "You wait your turn, not swoop in like a crow on someone else's bread."
The maid gasped theatrically. "Did you just call me a crow?"
"I was being polite," Feng Xiu Lan replied evenly, planting her palm on the counter to stop the maid from turning away with the pouch. "Give it back."
The vendor looked between them with an expression that screamed: Please let this not involve royalty.
Mo Yuchen slowly moved closer, his steps silent.
Just then, the carriages opened. A tall figure stepped down first.
Feng Yanzhao, the crowned prince of the Bird Clan, was dressed in white robes laced with gold thread and phoenix embroidery. A silver sash was fixed on his waist, and his long black hair was fastened with a golden phoenix hairpin. He was the picture of noble grace—tall, broad-shouldered, and undeniably handsome, with an expression that suggested the world should move aside to let him pass.
Beside him, Princess Feng Meiyu bounced out of the carriage. Younger than the prince, she was adorned in lavender silks with silver blossoms woven into her hair. She was pretty and delicate but held herself with the exaggerated poise of someone who had been praised too often.
"Gēge!" she called sweetly, fluttering over to Feng Yanzhao.
Two maids whispered behind her.
"They make such a good pair," one giggled.
"Not siblings, after all," the other murmured.
Feng Meiyu pointed at the pouch in her maid's hands. "I want that one."
The maid stepped forward quickly. "Your Highness, this commoner is lying. I took the pouch first."
"Lying?" Feng Xiu Lan snapped, her voice sharp. "You snatched the pouch I was paying for!"
The air crackled with tension. Stall vendors went silent. A few pedestrians edged away.
Just as Feng Meiyu turned toward her cousin, her lower lip pushed out in an exaggerated pout, a tiny stone shot through the air.
Flicked by Mo Yuchen's fingers, the stone glimmered faintly with energy. No one noticed, until it struck.
Thunk.
Feng Yanzhao staggered, his knee buckling just enough to drop him into a half crouch. "Ah!" he grunted in pain.
Gasps rippled through the square. The guards surged forward, instantly forming a wall around him, hands on their hilts.
From the other side of the market, Mo Yuchen had already closed in. He grabbed Feng Xiu Lan's wrist.
"Time to go," he whispered.
Before she could respond, he whisked her into the crowd. They vanished into the press of robes, baskets, and chatter.
Back in the square, Feng Yanzhao straightened, his face darkening with fury. He turned slightly toward his aide.
"Jin Luming," he said under his breath, "find out who did that. And punish the maid who caused this mess."
Jin Luming gave a discreet nod. With a flick of his sleeve, he gestured to one of the guards. The soldier stepped forward and delivered a sharp slap across the offending maid's cheek.
He raised his voice for all nearby to hear. "Princess Feng Meiyu, known for her grace and generosity, has been wrongfully shamed by this servant's disgraceful behavior. Let this be a lesson—her highness does not condone such disrespect."
The slap echoed crisply. The maid dropped to her knees, bowing her head, trembling.
The other maids followed suit. Feng Meiyu clutched her silken skirts, lips pressed tight, saying nothing.
Without further word, the royal party turned and returned to their carriages.
As the wheels rumbled away, the only thing left behind was a flurry of whispers—and a pretty crossbody pouch lying forgotten on the dusty street.
***
Soon, they checked into a modest inn near the city's outer ring, Luoming Kezhan, an inn known for its privacy and distance from the main roads. The place sat on a gentle slope, and from its open veranda, one could see the distant outline of the Royal Bird Clan Castle, perched high against the clouds, half shrouded in sea mist from the east and half gleaming under the sun.
A porter soon showed them to their respective rooms, which were adjacent to each other on the second floor. Once the polite porter left, Mo Yuchen followed Feng Xiu Lan into her room. He looked out of the wide open windows, eyes fixed on the sky-reaching towers of the castle.
"That's our destination," he said calmly.
Feng Xiu Lan came to stand beside him. "One side facing the city, the other facing the sea," she murmured. "No wonder they think they rule everything."
Mo Yuchen didn't reply. But his eyes narrowed, already planning.
Then he turned to her and said, "Rest for now. I'll arrange for someone to bring food to your room."
Feng Xiu Lan nodded, her energy still recovering from the earlier fight. As he guided her to her bed, Mo Yuchen added quietly, "I'll meet you again this evening. We'll set the plan in motion."
She didn't question him, just lay on her bed without a word.
Mo Yuchen softly walked out of her room and paused outside her closed door for a moment. Was she ready for this? Then, with a determined look, he walked to his room and told himself firmly that Feng Xiu Lan wasn't a weak woman. She had trained for hundreds of years and hadn't reached the first stage of the Advanced Realm of Cultivation by luck. It was her effort, her will.
Their mission had officially begun.
***
In the hidden back garden of the Royal Bird Clan Castle, moonlight mingled with the natural glow of the land. The Aqua Pearl Pool shimmered under the starlit sky, its blue-green surface glowing faintly from the delicate swirl of powdered Aqua Pearls that floated across it like soft celestial dust. Lush spirit blossoms bloomed in silver spirals around the edges, while bioluminescent flowers stretched lazily toward the sky, casting soft glows in shades of violet, jade, and gold. Thin vines wrapped around ancient stone lanterns, which held floating spirit flames, gentle, steady lights that needed no oil, only air, and silence.
Perched high in the branches of a phoenix blossom tree, Mo Yuchen crouched like a shadow, dressed in dark robes that blended seamlessly with the foliage. Beside him, Feng Xiu Lan kept pace with practiced ease. She wasn't a spy, but she had followed Mo Yuchen into enough trouble to know how to hold her breath and move like a whisper.
Below them, a procession entered the sacred garden. No guards, no fanfare. Just a quiet glide of silk and slippers across the mossy stones. Princess Feng Meiyu arrived flanked by maids and attendants, her lavender robes whispering against the glowing petals as she approached the luminous pool.
"The more times Her Highness bathes in the Aqua Pearl Pool," said one of the senior maids softly, "the faster her true blood form will awaken."
"Her father is a phoenix," another added proudly. "She will be, too."
But one younger maid, whispering a little too loudly, added, "Though if she takes after her mother, Concubine Lianshui, she might just end up a peacock."
There was a pause. Princess Feng Meiyu didn't speak, but she looked directly at the head maid.
The older woman turned with a tight smile. "Xiao Yun, you'll be reassigned to lavatory duty. Indefinitely."
The guilty maid paled, bowed, and stepped back into silence.
With careful fingers, Princess Meiyu slipped out of her outer garments until only a sheer wrap remained. As she stepped into the pool, the glowing water rippled gently around her, clinging to her skin like luminous silk. Every crystal grain of Aqua Pearl Powder kissed her bare arms, shoulders, and back with soft flashes of qi.
Mo Yuchen arched a brow, clearly impressed.
"You're ogling like a tiger eyeing a beautiful swan," Feng Xiu Lan muttered beside him, nudging his arm.
"I'm studying royal cultivation techniques," he murmured back. "Very academic."
"You need a sword in the ribs."
Down below, Meiyu dipped herself to her shoulders, face serene but lips slightly pressed, as though waiting for something that never came.
"She's worried," Feng Xiu Lan whispered. "Afraid she's not a phoenix."
Mo Yuchen didn't comment. He was already tracking the shift of light beyond the garden arch.
Once the princess stepped out and wrapped herself again in silks, the party exited in silence. Their path was lit not by torches, but by spirit-fire lanterns floating above the moss-stone path. Each cast a soft blue-white glow that repelled darkness and echoed the pulse of the castle's protective array.
When the garden was still again, Mo Yuchen dropped silently from the tree.
"Now's your chance. Go."
Feng Xiu Lan landed beside him with a quiet thud. "You better not look."
"Just a tiny flat bird who hasn't even grown her wings yet," he said, turning away toward the corridor.
"You—"
"Hurry."
She shot him a glare, then slipped off her outer robe and hung it carefully over a low branch. Clad in only a thin sarong, she stepped into the luminous pool.
The Aqua Pearl Powder embraced her like living mist. Warmth flooded through her limbs. The glowing water shimmered along her skin, as if the pool itself were whispering to her blood.
Mo Yuchen kept his back to her, hidden in a tree's shadows, eyes scanning the softly lit corridor. The magical lanterns hanging above flickered once, just slightly.
Footsteps.
Two guards were making their quiet rounds, boots clicking softly against the smooth stone path, their armor barely making a sound. No torches were needed in this place of moonlit serenity and spirit-glow.
Mo Yuchen waved his hand, cloaking Feng Xiu Lan's discarded robe in illusion, making it vanish like mist.
"Feng Xiu Lan," he said sharply, not turning around. She didn't respond—lost in the sensation of the pool.
He tensed. Then, without a word, he stepped into the pool, his movements fluid and silent.
She turned sharply. "What are you doing—"
He reached her in a heartbeat. Before she could argue, he pulled her close and dove under the surface.
The glowing water closed around them like a veil.
Their eyes met through the water—briefly, curiously.
Feng Xiu Lan's heart surged not just from the pool's energy or the thrill of secrecy—but from the strange awareness of the man holding her close beneath sacred waters.
Above them, footsteps slowed.
"I heard something," said a guard cautiously.
A pause.
Then came the soft crunch of a boot turning toward the pool.
And underwater, the duo stiffened.