Last month, when news of Ming's sudden illness spread from the palace, it reached the princes and grandchildren scattered across the land. Some spies had already leaked that Ming's sickness lingered.
Especially the few princes who seemed calm on the surface but fought to the death underneath. They'd long been ready. All sides moved their pieces, placing bets and making plays.
Ming had seventeen sons, but only three had the background and hope to claim the throne. The rest were too young, already out of the game, locked up, or sent to distant lands.
One was Prince Ren, the fourth son. Mature and steady, deeply cunning, he kept a low profile. Respectful to Ming, flawless with officials, sometimes even overly ordinary.
One was Prince Tao, the ninth son. Known for his literary grace, he had a great reputation among scholars and the common folk, with influence in culture and politics.
The last was Prince Zan, the twelfth son. Young and bold, fiery-tempered, free-spirited, and ruthless, he had a heroic air. His mother's clan was powerful, and he had the army's loudest support.
Qing, Prince Ren's eldest daughter, was sent to an immortal sect as a child to train. A direct disciple of the Xian Sect, she had rare talent. Some said she had the makings of an immortal. It also tied Prince Ren to the righteous immortal sects, a hidden alliance.
She returned to the capital this time for two reasons: to visit her dying grandfather, Ming, and to show which prince the immortal sects backed, making the final move.
Prince Ren had such power and support behind his quiet facade. It shocked everyone.
Sure enough, the immortal sects' stance shook the court. Prince Zan gritted his teeth in rage at home, and even the usually composed Prince Tao sighed and shook his head.
This wasn't just a mortal world. It was a real one with immortals wielding incredible power. The sects' support mattered hugely, no wonder the other princes lost it.
After over a decade away, Qing became a star among the capital's noble ladies. As a high-level cultivator, she gained a mysterious allure that obsessed people.
But for days, aside from a few public appearances, she stayed silent in Prince Ren's mansion. Only a handful saw her; others couldn't even get close.
In the deep courtyard of Prince Ren's mansion, a stunningly beautiful girl stood gracefully, watching the misty rain and the faint fish in the pond. Her eyes were clear and bright like the moon.
She wore a white dress, pure as the moon in the sky.
A breeze blew, lifting her skirt, revealing a glimpse of her snow-white legs. Whiter than finely carved jade.
Qing frowned slightly, her face delicate and gorgeous yet gentle and calm. Her cool eyes gazed into the distance, her long hair fluttering with a white ribbon, exuding natural immortal charm.
Her full boobs rose and fell slightly, as if she had something on her mind.
Qing did have worries, but not worldly ones.
She was naturally serene, like the moon. Calm and pure. Or like a clear stream in rugged mountains.
She didn't care about mundane things or her father's obsession with the throne.
She thought of the high clouds above the ninth heaven, the mystic dao beyond the sky.
*The Xuaxian Scripture.* Qing's lovely eyes stared at the pond, but her mind recalled her master's words when she left the mountain.
"This *Xuaxian Scripture* is profound and complex. Its creator was a genius who once shook the world… Though it strays from tradition, it points straight to the dao. A pity…"
Ming had given her the *Xuaxian Scripture* when she left for the Xian Sect. She remembered him then. Still in his prime. Handing it over while an old advisor hesitated nearby.
And Ming had said with bold confidence, "He was never my match, even till death. My descendants using his dao is an honor to him."
Even the sect elders praised the scripture's creator, yet sighed with regret.
But why they sighed, most wouldn't say, as if it was taboo.
Qing came back this time partly on sect orders and for training, but also to ask Ming about it.
Sadly, she'd visited him a few times, and he was either unconscious or too weak to talk.
"Sister! Sister!"
Before she could think more, a sweet, bell-like voice called from outside the pavilion.
Qing's calm face turned helpless, but with a doting warmth.
She turned to see a petite figure hopping toward her.
"Oof, little princess! Slow down, slow down!"
Behind the girl came the pleading, coaxing voice of an old nanny.
This was Li, Prince Ren's youngest daughter.
Unlike her older sister, the lofty moon standing apart, Li was small but curvy. Her boobs were like bamboo shoots or shy lotus buds, her waist slimmer than a willow.
Her pretty face was like the summer sun. Brows tinged with peach-blossom red, cheeks like apricots, lips cherry-red. Her almond eyes sparkled, fresh and shy like spring shoots after rain.
She threw herself into Qing's arms, rubbing her pink face against her sister's full boobs, making Qing giggle from the tickling.
Her snowy neck showed creamy skin, and her cleavage peeked out now and then, a fleeting glimpse that could mesmerize anyone.
The sisters laughed and played, one tall, one small, their beauty and innocence a sight unseen by outsiders. Only the old nannies watched, a pity no one else could.
After a while, Qing pushed her little sister off, smoothed their wrinkled dresses, and said, "Li, no lessons today? Why're you here?"
At the mention of lessons, Li's flower-like smile faded. Her sly eyes darted, twinkling like a sneaky fox. "Forget that for now, sister! Sister!"
"Brother Feng's here."
Brother Feng?
Feng.
Qing's eyes drifted, picturing that stubborn boy with pursed lips and determined eyes.
In her months of training off the mountain, she'd met him several times, each leaving a mark.
Whether fighting five alone at the Tomb of the Scattered Immortal without losing, or sweeping thousands of demon troops single-handedly in Sky Rift Valley like an unmatched warrior…
But her deepest memory was atop the Lunar Tower under the moonlight, when Feng said, "Cultivating immortality isn't freedom, gods aren't carefree. Better to go home and shovel shit."
Free-spirited, loyal, casual yet principled, not a hero by name but always acting like one.
That was Qing's impression of Feng.
"What's he here for?" she asked casually, though her moon-like eyes rippled like water.
At Feng's name, Li perked up. "Brother Feng's great at alchemy! He can make that lost… uh, what's it called… Innate Return… something…"
"Innate Return Origin Pill," Qing filled in.
"Right, right! Innate Return Origin Pill."
Li nodded. "Father made a deal with him. Give him materials to make one. It can heal Marshal Jun's old wound. If Marshal Jun sides with Father, uh… helps him, right?"
Though of age and sharp-witted, Li wasn't versed in politics. Thanks to Prince Ren's doting. In a normal family, she'd already be a mother running the house.
But now was a critical time. The capital's officials and factions were locked in struggle, one side rising as another fell. Only Qing and Li could still laugh carefree here. Outside, the storm was brewing.
Marshal Jun, a founding hero and one of the last, held huge sway among the military nobles. His choice could shift the tide. If he backed Prince Ren, Ren's claim to the throne would be nearly certain. Unless Ming's will said otherwise.
*Feng, I owe you one,* Qing thought with a sigh.
But then, her heart stirred. The wall blocking her cultivation, unmoved for so long, loosened.
"A breakthrough!"
Her aura shifted, turning cold and striking. She became the lofty moon again, her eyes sharp and commanding.
"Sister!" Li said, worried by her change.
"It's fine. My chance has come."
Qing's voice was like the moon on a cold night, so awe-inspiring the nannies knelt instinctively, bowing to this proud, pure light.