The carriages moved past the palace gates, moving past courtyards and stone corridors shaded by trees swaying gently in the breeze.
Inside one of the carriages, Yao Yao sat opposite Shang Jun.
For now, she was still.
No fidgeting.
No more drama.
After all the fuss she had caused earlier, it seemed wise to tone herself down now that she had successfully snuck her way in. She sat with her hands neatly in her lap, eyes turned gracefully towards the window.
Very dignified.
Very tamed.
Then, Shang Jun's voice broke the silence.
"So," he said, leaning back slightly, his gaze drifting toward her with faint amusement, "did you really come all this way to see me?"
Yao Yao blinked, caught off guard. The carriage rocked gently, and the little diamond pendant at her neck swayed, catching the sunlight in a soft, silvery gleam.
She cleared her throat and straightened, trying her best to sound composed.
"…Yes."
Shang Jun raised a brow. "Are you sure?" he asked. "There's a spell, you know. Simple. Old. Forces you to speak only the truth for the next hour."
Yao Yao's eyes widened.
Immediately, she clutched her necklace as if it were a sacred talisman. "You wouldn't," she gasped. "My necklace will protect me, you know!"
"Yao Yao…" Shang Jun said, clearly amused. "That spell isn't deadly. It's just a harmless enchantment. Your necklace only reacts to magic that poses a real threat to your life."
She gave him an affronted look. "That's not good enough. It should protect me from everything that violates my will. Including humiliating truth spells."
Shang Jun laughed. "There's no spell in existence that can read a person's mind, Yao Yao."
"There isn't?" she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes and holding her pendant closer. "Not even one that senses emotional damage?"
"That's not emotional distress." He paused, gaze lifting in contemplation before settling back on her with a faint smile. "It's called… gentle interrogation."
Yao Yao stared at him, clutching her necklace with the flair of a wronged heroine in a tragic play.
She definitely hadn't come all this way just to see him.
Obviously.
The carriage came to a halt, wheels crunching softly over gravel. Spotting the approaching colosseum through the window, Yao Yao sat up quickly, her voice slightly too eager. "Oh—look," she said, pointing ahead. "We're here already."
Shang Jun shook his head with a quiet laugh and stepped down from the carriage. He extended a hand back inside and Yao Yao took it without hesitation. She hopped down lightly, her feet landing on the solid ground as her fingers remained clasped in his.
Ahead of them, Shang Zhao and Shang Qing Ye were already walking forward. From the second carriage, Ying Ying and Min Min stepped out, exchanging a quick glance before adjusting their sleeves and falling into line.
Yao Yao, however, wasn't thinking about grace anymore.
She was too busy taking everything in.
The sheer scale of the colosseum was enough to steal one's breath. It's exterior, though, was deceptively plain, the walls bore no banners or murals, while royal guards in blackened armor stood at silent attention along the perimeter.
No one spoke.
The ceremonial path ahead seemed to demand silence.
They passed beneath a high archway where the guards bowed deeply, signalling their passage. As they advanced, the path sloped upwards, and the light dimmed with every step. Magic stirred in the air, like cool static brushing against Yao Yao's skin.
This place was not built on the land.
It had been carved from it.
The tunnel walls were smooth and ancient, lined with floating lanterns that burned without flame. Yao Yao walked beside Shang Jun, still holding his hand, her footsteps light against the ground as they ascended deeper into the mountain.
And then—
The tunnel opened.
Yao Yao blinked as she stepped into blinding light, emerging onto the upper tier of the Royal Summoning Grounds.
Her eyes widened.
The arena was vast.
Carved directly into the mountain's base, the colosseum resembled an ancient battlefield lost in time. At its center lay a smooth, circular platform of stone, etched with rings of runes spiralling inwards. Tiered rows of seating rose all around them, encircling the arena like a fortress. Nobles had already begun to fill the seats, dressed in their finest, murmuring behind fans and into sleeves.
But Yao Yao didn't notice any of them.
Her eyes went straight to the center.
A small crystal hovered several feet above the ground—no larger than an adult's fist.
It didn't glow. It didn't spin. It simply floated, dull and lifeless with a bluish-gray glint fluttering faintly beneath its surface. Dozens of smaller glowing crystals were embedded into the floor around it, forming a wide, intricate pattern.
The formation pulsed softly with dormant energy, as though waiting to be awakened.
The crystal didn't feel like a tool to her.
It felt like a heart.
A chill ran down her spine and her skin prickled as she realised this place wasn't dead, it was sleeping.
"Do you remember the fountain?" Shang Jun murmured beside her, his voice barely audible over the crowd.
Yao Yao turned to him, her brows slightly furrowed. "The one at home?"
He nodded, gaze still on the crystal.
Yao Yao turned her attention back to it.
Now that he'd mentioned it…
No, it didn't look the same. But it felt the same.
That quiet hum beneath the air. That silence, like the world itself was holding its breath.
It felt like a melody she had never heard but somehow remembered.
It was the same feeling she had while sitting at the edge of the Elisie Fountain—when the wind paused and the world felt as though it were listening.
"…It feels the same," she whispered.
Shang Jun gave a short nod. "The summoning crystal is a remnant. A fragment that is connected to the Spirit World. Just like the fountain."
He glanced down at her, reading the look in her eyes. She didn't fully understand what she was feeling, but somehow, she knew—this place wasn't built for the ceremony.
It was built around that crystal.
A hush swept through the colosseum as nobles rose in a synchronised wave.
The royal family had arrived.
Yao Yao looked up towards the imperial dais.
The King entered, cloaked in sapphire robes embroidered with gold, his crown gleaming beneath the sun. His presence had an unshakable weight, formidable like a pillar carved from centuries of power.
Behind him, the three princes followed.
Yao Yao immediately caught the first figure and her heart skipped a beat.
It's him.
The boy from the garden.
The one who had snuck into her room as if he owned the world.
She jabbed Shang Jun in the ribs, eyes still fixed ahead. "Brother. Who is that boy in front?" she hissed.
Shang Jun followed her gaze. "That is His Highness, the Crown Prince."
Her jaw dropped slightly.
Crown Prince?
Seriously?
She stared harder at the boy, who now stood tall beside his brothers. He looked nothing like the stalker brat from that day—yet there he was, standing tall, every inch radiating with authority.
"…That sneaky brat is royalty?" she muttered.
Beside her, Min Min scoffed, having overheard. "Try whispering a little softer next time."
Yao Yao didn't even blink. "Why? Can his royal ears hear across the entire colosseum?"
Min Min's voice turned sharp. "Careful. This isn't the stables."
"I'm not the one eavesdropping," Yao Yao said with a shrug.
Shang Jun sighed under his breath but didn't interfere.
The Shang family moved toward their viewing box—a raised private platform across from the imperial dais. Servants bowed as they were guided to their seats.
Yao Yao followed behind the rest of the Shang family, her small hand still wrapped in Shang Jun's as they approached their designated seats. She took her seat beside Shang Jun, the stone cool beneath her, while Min Min settled stiffly on her other side.
Below, the court mages moved into position—slow, deliberate, precise. From above, they looked like stars aligning in the sky.
Then—the King raised his hand.
Silence fell over the grounds. With a single nod from the throne, the ceremony began.
The court mages raised their hands in perfect unison, their movements fluid and precise. Threads of mana spiraled from their fingertips, weaving through the air like strands of silk, drawn towards the hovering crystal at the center.
The runes etched into the stone floor pulsed with rising light, each surge brighter than the last. Even Yao Yao, who had never studied magic, could feel it the air thickened around her.
The floating crystal shuddered, greedily drinking in the stream of power.
Yao Yao held her breath.
Suddenly, she felt it.
A wave of force, cold and suffocating, crashed over her like a storm. It wasn't pain exactly, but pressure, a pressure so overwhelming that it felt like her small body was compressing, as if the magic itself was too much for her tiny body to contain.
One by one, the surrounding crystals on the platform dimmed, their light flickering out like candle flames, their mana was ripped away, siphoned into the heart of the core crystal.
The floating crystal wasn't merely absorbing the mana.
It was devouring it.
It was as though the core itself was starving, and every drop of energy that flowed into it was never enough to satisfy its thirst.
Yao Yao's body shuddered violently, her skin prickling as if ice had seeped into her bones. Her heart pounded heavily, each beat seemingly uneven and erratic.
A shaky breath slipped from her lips, her chest rising and falling with each soft, trembling exhale. Her limbs grew numb, and her body felt unnaturally light, as if she was slowly coming apart.
Across the ceremonial grounds, high above on the imperial dais, Rong Xi's golden eyes narrowed, not on the floating crystal, but on her.
She is reacting to the initiation.
The others were too absorbed in the ceremony to notice, unaware of the reaction of a young noble child blending into the crowd.
Only Rong Xi was watching. His gaze locked on her, tracking every subtle shifts in her expression, the way her breath came in shallow and uneven.
Yao Yao's face had gone pale, the usual flush in her cheeks completely drained away. The intense pressure within her was showing in her expression, her jaws tight, her eyes were wide, clouded and fighting to stay open. She swayed slightly, her vision blurring as the world spun around her, each breath coming slower and louder than the last.
At the same time, the light on the crystal fractured and a shimmer appeared before the crystal, rippling through the air like heat rising off stone. The space twisted, folding in on itself, until a thin veil began to peel open slowly.
A portal was forming.
Not yet a gateway, but a thin crack of darkness like an eye beginning to blink open.
Rong Xi could feel it.
He could tell that she seemed to be resonating with the portal in a way he had never seen before.
A sense of familiarity washed over him, and somewhere deep within, a long-buried memory began to resurface.