The room jolts into action. Guards rush out, their heavy boots a drumbeat of anticipation. The healers scramble to arrange Jiyin's bed, making way for the imminent arrival.

  The Empress remains silent, though a muscle ticks along her jaw. She walks to the window, staring across the vast city below like a lioness preparing to defend her own. The Emperor remains beside Jiyin, his hand resting lightly on his son's still one.

  Outside, the guards' orders echo through the palace... and the waiting begins.

  The Emperor's voice is steel wrapped in silk—calm, but with a blade beneath: "Let them come. Let the Xian Tian dogs see their own reflection in Jiyin's eyes when he wakes."

  He lifts his son's limp hand to press against his forehead for a moment before turning to the trembling healer. "You will be my messenger. Tell them"

  A servant drops a tray outside; the clatter makes even Empress Xiuhua flinch—but she merely folds her arms and nods once. The deal is struck. Now? They wait...

  Hours stretch like shadows across the palace. The Emperor does not move from Jiyin's bedside, his silhouette carved in stone. The Empress stands at the window, unmoving—her gaze sharp enough to cut through time itself.

  Servants tiptoe with trays of untouched food; guards shift on their feet but dare not speak above whispers.

  A crow caws outside as evening bleeds into night... and still no envoys come.

  Two days pass—then three. The palace holds its breath, but the envoys of Xian Tian Kingdom do not come.

  Then, on the dawn of the fourth day, a servant bursts into the Emperor's chambers with a scroll clutched in shaking hands. The message is short and scathing:

  "Didn't Kai Fu know that they have to beg for charity?"

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  The parchment drops to floor as if burned. Empress Xiuhua goes deathly still; even her husband's face darkens like storm clouds over mountains. "...They dare mock us?" he murmurs—but his voice isn't quiet anymore; it's thunder rolling before lightning strikes.

  The Empress's gaze snaps back and forth between the scroll on the floor and her husband. "Those insolent bastards..." she snarls. "To not show up is one thing but to send that as a message..."

  The Emperor's expression is a study in cold fury now. He gets to his feet, striding across the room to the window. As he turns, the sun rises over the palace... illuminating his face in the first red light of morning. "No. It's a dare."

  The scroll disintegrates in the Empress's grip—reducing to ash before it even hits the floor. Dark mist coils around her fingers, a visible manifestation of her wrath.

  "You start a war... Yuan Shi."

  Her voice is lethally quiet—the kind of tone that makes guards outside flinch and healers duck their heads. The Emperor watches from his throne, eyes burning with identical fury as he grips its arms hard enough to crack wood.

  *A servant dares to peek through parted curtains... only for an unseen force (cultivation energy) to slam them shut again with enough violence rattling windows down hallways away!

  A chilling smile curves the Empress's lips as she points to the east, towards where the Xian Tian Kingdom lies beyond the mountains. Dark mist coils from her fingertips, coalescing into tiny, doll-like shapes before shooting through the air like arrows from a bow.

  Within seconds, the mini "dolls" disappear from view—headed towards their destination with the speed of birds on the wind. The palace goes still again—as if the entire Empire is watching those tiny specks of darkness vanish in the distance... and waiting.

  The doll-like figures hurtle through the air, streaking like comet-tails towards the Xian Tian Empire. They fly hundreds of miles, passing over mountains and deserts, rivers and villages. Hours later, the silhouettes of Xian Tian's capital come into view—a grand, golden city set into the heart of steep-mountain terrain.

  The figures descend to a vast palace—its golden rooftops a sharp contrast against black stone.

  The tiny dark figures descend towards a garden within the palace—and a group of guards standing outside. They laugh and joke... mocking Kai Fu, mocking Jiyin.

  "Kai Fu is going to kneel for Xian Tian... and Jiyin's bastard is going to die!"

  They're too busy jeering to notice the "doll" figures sneaking up behind them. But then, in an instant, the words turn to gurgles as the guards clutch their throats... "yakkkkkk!!!!" their tongues cut out with brutal violence "ughhh!!!!!!!"

  The dolls slip through the palace halls with supernatural speed—skipping past confused guards and terrified servants

  They arrive at the inner study, where an old man with thinning hair and a sharp-eyed smile sits at a low table. The smell of roasted duck hangs heavy in the air, and the man is digging into his meal with undisguised delight.

  "How is Kai Fu faring?" he asks a younger man standing by the door—a smirk on his lips in expectation of the response.

  The younger man bows low before replying. "Still waiting, Your Highness," he murmurs. If he's nervous, it doesn't show. The old man chuckles, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. "Patience is the virtue of the weak," he says. "Soon enough, Kai Fu will be begging on his knees for a deal."

  The Emperor Yuan Shi's sharp eyes flicker to the corner of the room, where dark mist swirls—unseen by his guards. His grip tightens around his fist, and with a sudden yank, an invisible force wrenches the black tendrils from thin air into his grasp.

  "So you choose war... Xiuhua Haoxiao." His voice is icy as winter wind cutting through bone. "A bold move for a woman who already lost her son."

  He unclenches his fingers—the dolls reforming in

  miniature before him like tiny soldiers ready for slaughter. The younger man pales but dares not step back.