The dawn after the outbreak came pale and heavy.Mist rolled across the valley, swallowing the fields, the rooftops, the riverbank — and the quiet ache that settled in Achu's chest.
The villagers still slept.Fei was curled in Ran's arms; Chen lay beside the door, clutching a bundle of herbs as if it were a weapon.
Achu stood by the window, watching the horizon where the mountains rose like walls. Beyond them, far beyond, stood the city she had once called home — the Imperial Palace of Zhuang.
It had been six years since she walked its marble floors.Six years since she had buried her name and chosen the soil over the throne.
Now, they had dragged her peace into their wars.And for that, she would have answers.
Departure
Before sunrise, Achu wrapped herself in her old robes — white with faint gold embroidery, the crest of the royal apothecaries still etched into the silk.She tied her hair high, as tradition demanded, and slipped her spatial ring onto her finger.
At the doorway, she paused.Ran stirred in her sleep, murmuring something soft — a dream of festivals, laughter, or maybe pancakes.
Achu smiled faintly and whispered, "Take care of each other."
Then, without a sound, she vanished — the air rippling like disturbed water.
The Road of Silence
The world blurred beneath her as she traveled.Forests, rivers, and villages flashed by in streaks of green and gray. Her qinggong carried her like a whisper through the wind — light, effortless, silent.
When she stopped, it was only once: at the edge of a hill overlooking the capital.
The Imperial City sprawled beneath her — vast, glittering, cold.Gold roofs shimmered under morning light, the scent of incense drifting even this far. But the air was strange — too clean, too sterile.
Even from here, she could sense it: the faint trace of the White Disease, buried beneath wards and lies.
Her jaw tightened. "So even the palace itself is poisoned."
The Hall of Jade
Inside the palace, the air was colder.Guards patrolled with measured steps, banners fluttered in the corridors, and courtiers whispered behind fans.
None dared stop her.Some recognized her — eyes widening in disbelief, too shocked to speak. Others bowed instinctively, the memory of her presence too ingrained to question.
By the time she reached the Hall of Jade, word had already reached the throne.
Her father — Emperor Zhuang Lin, ruler of the Seven Provinces — sat beneath the carved dragon canopy, surrounded by ministers and alchemists in pale robes. His hair had turned more silver than black, but his eyes still burned with the weight of command.
The hall fell silent as Achu walked in.Her sandals echoed softly against the marble floor.
She stopped at the foot of the dais, bowed once — not as a daughter, but as an equal.
The Confrontation
"Achura," the Emperor said at last, his voice slow, uncertain. "You should not have returned."
"Then perhaps you should not have sent death where I lived," she replied.
The ministers stirred. The royal apothecary at his side opened his mouth, but Achu's gaze silenced him.
Her voice was calm — painfully so."Your White Disease has reached Anning. My home. My people. You called it divine punishment, yet it reeks of alchemy — of human hands meddling with life and spirit."
The Emperor's fingers tightened on the armrest. "You speak as if you understand its nature."
"I do."Her words struck like thunder."I understand because it bears my signature."
The hall gasped.Her eyes gleamed gold — faint but unmistakable. "Your scholars revived one of my forbidden experiments. I burned those records myself. How did they reach your council's hands?"
One of the ministers stammered, "We— we only sought to strengthen the realm! To purify those unfit for cultivation—"
"Purify?" Achu's voice cut sharp and cold."Do you even know what the disease does? It severs the spirit root, devours the life vein, and leaves behind empty shells. You call that purification?"
The hall fell silent. Even the guards dared not move.
The Emperor's eyes softened for a fleeting instant — sorrow, guilt, maybe pride."You left us, Achura. The council rebuilt what you destroyed. I could not stop them all."
"Then you should have burned the throne too," she said quietly.
The Warning
She stepped closer, the golden light around her growing brighter.The pressure of her qi filled the hall like a storm — invisible, but heavy enough to make lesser men tremble.
"I came to warn you, Father."
Her voice softened — but her power did not."Withdraw your hunters. Seal the research. Burn the formulas and the blood contracts tied to them. If the White Disease spreads further, even the heavens will not forgive you."
One of the generals drew his blade. "You dare threaten the Emperor?"
Achu's eyes flicked toward him — a single glance — and the steel in his hand turned to dust.
The hall erupted in gasps.
"Threaten?" she said. "No. I'm giving mercy. Once."
Her gaze shifted back to her father. "You taught me peace is earned, not given. So remember, Father — if my peace is taken again, I will not come as your daughter next time."
The Vanishing
She turned.The golden aura faded, her figure dissolving into a shimmer of light.
The courtiers shouted, the guards surged forward, but she was already gone — a whisper of wind, a scent of rain, a faint echo left behind.
The Emperor rose slowly from his throne, staring at the space she had vanished from. His voice broke the silence:
"Prepare the records… and summon the council. She is right — the gods will not forgive us twice."
Outside, as the palace bells tolled noon, the sky dimmed unnaturally — clouds rolling in from the north, carrying the scent of rain and ashes.
Far below, at the edge of the city, a faint golden glow drifted east — toward the mountains, toward Anning.
Epilogue Scene — The Return Wind
By the time Achu crossed the last ridge, the wind had shifted.She could smell smoke — faint but real — from torches and fires burning in nearby villages.
She paused, her eyes half-closed. "They're moving faster than I thought."
Her fingers brushed against a talisman tucked in her sleeve."For peace to survive," she murmured, "the healer must become the blade."
The wind caught her hair as she vanished once more — leaving behind only the soft whisper of her vow, carried across the mountains like a storm yet to break.