Author's Note
Before anything else, I want to thank you for choosing to read my book. That means a lot to me, and I hope the story manages to touch you in some way. But I need to be honest: you might find some mistakes in the English translation. I sincerely apologize for that, in case something doesn't sound natural or causes any confusion.
Portuguese is my first language, and English... well, let's say it's not my strong suit. I'm not very proficient or fluent in it, and that limited me quite a bit. To bring this story to you, I used artificial intelligence to help with the translation. It was the best resource I had at hand, but I know it's not perfect and some slips might have gotten through.
Writing this book in Portuguese was something I did with a lot of care and dedication. I wanted to share this journey with readers in other languages, and the English translation was my attempt to make that happen. Even if the result has its flaws, my wish is that the spirit of the story still reaches you.
So, I ask for a bit of patience and understanding. If you can look past the possible mistakes, I hope you find something special in the pages I wrote. Thank you for being here and for giving my voice a chance!
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Without another word, I turned and continued on my path.
"I have no time for distractions now," I thought, suppressing a flicker of irritation. "Fleeting encounters may carry their own allure, but women swayed by lust? No. I've no taste for easy things—those driven by desire offer neither resistance nor challenge."
As I walked away, something caught my eye. The feverish spark in their gazes softened into shame and timidity. Flushed cheeks, lowered eyes, and nervous whispers hinted that, without my scent lingering, their clarity was creeping back. To me, it was just another fleeting moment—perhaps a curiosity to others, but a mere ripple in the stream of my plans.
"What's happening here?" I asked, my voice steady and sharp.
One of the girls, still hesitant, slipped a small mirror from her storage ring and handed it to me without a sound. Gazing into it, I resolved, after so long, to truly study my own reflection.
Even with the blindfold that usually veiled my eyes, what I saw startled me. My hair, woven into dreads that cascaded to my chest, shimmered with a rare beauty: strands of pure white mingled with dark threads, as if light and shadow danced together. My skin, a rich chocolate hue, glowed faintly, accentuating every line of my face.
And what a face it was…
My jaw, etched with a gentle curve, bore such delicate contours that they might belong to a woman. Only my strong neck and towering height proclaimed my masculinity. Yet, there was an almost enchanted grace to my features—striking enough to unsettle me.
I drew a deep breath, wrestling the frustration bubbling inside.
"How can I command respect with a face like this? I look like some hero from a child's fable."
In a near-instinctive motion, I slid the blindfold off, facing myself fully. What met my gaze was breathtaking:
My eyes held a living sky, a wild swirl of rainbow colors clashing and blending, bound by an unseen edge. Each shade wove into the next, a spectacle both captivating and faintly disquieting.
"No fearsome visage for me," I muttered, slipping the blindfold back on.
"But a face isn't everything. I have other ways to stir fear," I added, guided by the cool logic that had always been my compass.
Cloaked in shadow and silence, I pressed forward, unmoved by the fleeting emotions of others, certain that such tangles had no place in my journey.
That journey was only beginning. Moments like these were mere delays to what awaited me. Without a glance back, I set my course for the duchy, leaving the forest, the girls, and the leopard to fade like whispers of a moment already lost.
Later, I reached the Yang Household—the place where my early years unfolded, where my mind flickered awake as my true form took root. Returning felt strange; the air here carried the faint scars of indifference and rejection that had long shadowed me.
The sight of the mansion pierced my calm like a honed memory: towering gates, ornate walls, and the golden emblem of the Yang family stood as a quiet challenge. I wore a plain cloak, chosen with care to mask who I was.
"They'll stop me," I thought, steady as one braced for the worst. "They'll ask foolish questions, mocking me as they once did."
But as I stepped toward the gate, something unexpected unfolded. The gatekeeper's gaze lingered on me for a moment, then twisted into sudden fear—a raw, instinctive response to my presence, one he couldn't mask. He knew I was no ordinary stranger.
"Good afternoon, sir. How may I assist you?" he said, his voice trembling despite his effort at politeness.
I blinked, my face a blank slate. Then another guard spoke up:
"What's your name, stranger?" His tone aimed for boldness, but uncertainty bled through.
I met his eyes with calm resolve and answered, my voice deep and unshaken:
"I am the only black and illegitimate son of the duchy."
The words rang out like a storm's first rumble. The two guards exchanged a glance, their faces draining of color.
"You… you're… Yang Fei?" one stammered, grasping for confirmation of the impossible.
I silenced him with a cutting look. "Call me Nael."
As I spoke, I drew an identity plaque from my storage ring and held it up. The sight of it struck them dumb, their tongues tied by the weight of the truth. Without waiting for their reaction, I brushed past, murmuring:
"I'm not here to waste time on nonsense."
Leaving them rooted in shock, I strode toward the mansion. Each step stirred bitter memories but also a fierce clarity—I was no longer that boy from years past. Now, I carved my own path, seeking what was mine: answers.
The walk to the mansion's entrance felt shorter with time, every stride heavy with recollection and a cold, measured purpose. I wasn't the lost youth of yesterday. Today, I shaped my fate, ready to claim the truth that belonged to me.
Inside the main house, voices swelled as I moved through the corridors. Curious stares trailed me, whispers buzzing like flies.
"Who's this?"
"Such a handsome man… but he's black!"
"Could he be the Patriarch's bastard son?"
Each word clawed at my composure, but I stood unshaken. These people, caught in their gossip and petty schemes, were nothing but noise—far from my aim. With a faint sigh, I let the stares slide off me and made for the meeting hall, feeling no urge to justify myself.
Near the hall's door, something struck me as odd: the house felt hollow, despite the distant hum of voices. Nearby, two elders murmured in hushed tones. I caught scraps of their talk:
"The youth contest was a triumph… the Patriarch's children were there and…"
I didn't linger to hear more. Such games meant nothing to me; blood kin were just faint shapes on the horizon, devoid of worth. I pushed the door open with purpose, its creak unsurprising. Without waiting for permission, I stepped inside, my gait sure.
The hall was a lavish sprawl—red carpets, glittering chandeliers—and at its heart stood the Yang Household's key figures. The Duke, the man called my father, sat rigid, his gaze a heavy burden. Beside him, the Duchess wore a smile that relished some nearing victory.
Around a grand table, twelve elders mingled curiosity with keen interest. An empty chair hinted at absent ancients, their silence a tale untold. In the center, Yang Wei, the recognized son, stood proud. A ring in his hand pulsed with golden light, its power rippling through the room.
As I drew near, Wei activated the ring. In an instant, treasures poured forth—celestial blades, rare elixirs, ancient relics—scattering across the floor in a dazzling flood. Their glow seized every eye.
Voices erupted:
"What riches!"
"With this… we could forge an immortal from the myths!"
One elder's shout betrayed his hunger, while others muttered among themselves, gazes locked on the haul. Even the Duchess surrendered to a fevered thrill. Only the Duke held still, his face etched with the weight of knowing each gain's true cost.
I stood apart, watching without a word. Treasures had their use, but everything here came tethered to a price I wouldn't pay—and deep down, they all knew they weren't worthy of it either. This grand show, brimming with promise, demanded a toll that held no appeal for me.
So, amid the empty shine of their greed, I remained aloof and alert. Each item bore its burden, and while they drowned in ambition, I stayed fixed on the answers only the Duke could give.
Yang Wei, with a measured flourish, drew a radiant pearl from the ring. As he cradled it, a vivid light flared, sinking into his mind. He froze, and the hall—once alive with selfish fervor—slipped into a hushed rapture as all strained to grasp what was unfolding.
Then the pearl's glow shifted. A shape traced itself in the air, lines and shadows pulsing with life. The clamor of greed died, replaced by a thick silence that swallowed the room.
A woman's form emerged. Her golden hair, streaked with fiery red, gleamed like molten metal in sunlight. Her eyes, a sharp and lucid blue, swept over us all with a piercing strength, as if peering through our very souls. She wasn't merely a vision—her presence carried a real, unshakable force that made even the boldest falter.
When she spoke, her voice sliced the stillness with a firm yet gentle edge: "Answer the following question."
The elders traded wary glances, their faces clouded with doubt and caution. A heavy silence stretched out, thick with tension, each moment dragging as they waited for someone daring enough to meet the enigma of her command.