The Thousand Lotus Peak slept beneath a shroud of drifting mist, untouched by wind, time, or mortal eyes. Each petal of its eternal lotuses glowed faintly, shedding dew that never fell to the ground. The mountain itself seemed to float between realms—its base hidden deep within endless clouds, its summit lost among the distant stars that shimmered coldly in the night sky.
At the very heart of this sanctum stood the White Jade Palace.
No footsteps had echoed within those ancient walls for centuries. The air there was still, thick with the scent of ancient incense and the faint resonance of a profound Dao that wrapped the palace in invisible chains. Here, no sound of the outside world could intrude. Here, First Empress Mei Lian had buried herself in utter silence and solitude.
The doors of the palace were carved from single slabs of lunar jade, etched with lotus blooms so lifelike that dew seemed to glisten on their delicate petals. Behind them, the woman who once stood at the very pinnacle of the Celestial Court sat in deep meditation—her back perfectly straight, eyes closed, her presence more like a mountain than a living being.
Far below the peak, a ripple broke the stillness.
A lone courier in the Celestial Emperor's livery landed before the palace gates. His breathing was ragged—not from the arduous climb, but from the suffocating pressure that blanketed the mountain's sacred heights. Even for one of immortal cultivation, this place was… oppressive.
Before he could lift his hand to knock, her voice came.
Cold. Unhurried. And carrying a weight that made the marrow in his bones ache.
"Why are you here?"
The courier froze mid-step. That voice pierced straight through his mind, leaving no room for deception or evasion.
He swallowed hard, forcing the words out.
"By order of His Majesty, the Celestial Emperor, you are to return to the Celestial Court at once."
The silence that followed was deep enough to swallow sound itself.
"And why," she asked, "does he summon me?"
The courier shifted uncomfortably. "His Majesty did not permit me to say. I was only told… not to return without you."
For a heartbeat, nothing moved.
Then the temperature dropped sharply. The air thickened into something sharp, slicing at the courier's skin. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to obey.
"I see," Mei Lian said, her tone still calm—too calm.
A single flicker of intent bloomed in the air.
The courier never even saw her move.
One moment he stood before the White Jade Palace. The next, something invisible crushed through his defenses, shattering his ribs, tearing through his meridians, and hurling him backward with the force of a falling star.
He didn't scream. He couldn't. Blood streamed from his mouth as he shot off the peak like an arrow loosed by the heavens themselves.
At the Celestial Court, the sky was still red with blood rain when the sound came.
A wet thud.
The courier's broken body landed in the center of the court like an offering thrown at the feet of gods. His limbs bent wrong. His eyes were wide open.
Gasps rippled through the gathered immortals.
General Xu Jian stepped forward, face hard and unreadable. Shen Min's brows narrowed thoughtfully. Xiao Yue's lips curved in something not quite a smile.
The Celestial Emperor said nothing.
But his gaze lingered on the corpse for a moment too long, shadows flickering across his expression. Beneath the calm exterior, a turmoil churned—a storm of regret, fear, and stubborn pride.
The body lay where it had fallen, blood pooling across the stardust jade floor. The crimson streaks mirrored the rain still dripping from the sky, blurring corpse and omen into one.
No one moved to touch him.
From his seat upon the molten gold and dragon marrow throne, the Celestial Emperor rested his chin on one hand—his right fist clenched tightly, unknowingly concealing a faint, dark bruise where he had injured himself in a rare moment of silent frustration. He seemed almost relaxed, but those who had served him long enough knew better — his stillness meant storms.
"She did not come," he said at last. His voice was calm, but the weight of it pressed heavily against every immortal present.
"That is… an understatement," Shen Min replied smoothly from the left side of the hall. Her flowing red robes, richly stitched with intricate patterns of coiling phoenixes that seemed almost alive in the flickering torchlight, swayed gracefully as she stepped forward with measured confidence. She was one of the few in the court whose voice carried weight enough to speak without first seeking permission.
"Brother," Xiao Yue — the Emperor's younger sister — spoke from the other side. Her tone was silk over steel, calm yet carrying quiet authority. She looked innocent and pure, with delicate features softened by a gentle expression that belied the weight her words carried. "You know she will not obey a summons delivered by a mere messenger. Especially now."
The hall shifted like a living thing, ministers exchanging glances, elders hiding smirks. The name had not yet been spoken aloud, but they all knew who she was.
"You suggest I go myself?" the Emperor asked, his voice tight with frustration, a flicker of impatience darkening his usually composed expression. His eyes briefly flashed with the weight of burdens carried alone, the crushing responsibility of an empire balanced on his shoulders.
The council murmured their agreement, nodding solemnly, but the Emperor suddenly rose from his throne, anger flashing in his eyes. His voice thundered through the hall, sharp and commanding, causing the gathered celestial immortals to bow their heads quickly, some even pleading silently for mercy.
Shen Min stepped forward calmly, her presence steadying the storm. With a measured tone, she spoke softly yet firmly, easing the tension in the room.
"I insist you go yourself," Xiao Yue said then, her eyes bright with something between mischief and challenge. "And not alone."
The murmur that followed was sharp and immediate.
Shen Min nodded. "If you wish her to step out of seclusion, it must be more than a summons — it must be a procession. One that shows the court's sincerity."
Her choice of word — sincerity — was deliberate. It implied humility. It implied bending. No one told the Celestial Emperor to bend.
Yet he did not dismiss her.
Instead, he leaned back and drummed his fingers against the armrest. "Who?"
"Your sister," Shen Min said.
"I am already speaking," Xiao Yue said with a faint smirk.
"Your Fifth Empress," Shen Min continued. "The one she once called little sister."
A ripple of interest ran through the court.
"She may be the only one whose presence does not ignite her wrath immediately."
The Emperor's gaze shifted toward the far end of the hall, where a veiled figure in pale blue silk sat silently. Her name was Yao Xiuying — the Fifth Empress. Of all his wives, she was the quietest and the least seen in public. Yet she was also the only one from the Celestial Court whom Mei Lian truly cherished. In moments rare and private, Mei Lian would seek out Yao Xiuying's company, finding in her a rare solace and genuine connection that the rest of the court seldom offered.
Xiuying lifted her veil just enough to meet the Emperor's eyes. "If you command it, I will go."
He considered. "Who else?"
"The Jade Queen," Xiao Yue said without hesitation.
That suggestion drew an audible intake of breath. Lu Qing was not of the Celestial Court. She was a force unto herself. If she went, the world would notice.
The Emperor's eyes narrowed. "You would have me bring an outsider to her gate?"
"She is no outsider," Shen Min countered. "Not to Mei Lian."
More silence.
Finally, the Emperor nodded once. "Very well. I will go — with my sister, my Fifth Empress, the Jade Queen, and…" His gaze swept the hall and landed on the robed elders. "Baihe Xianweng and the monks of the Sun Temple."
Gasps again. The Sun Temple monks were famed for their arrogance; to bring them was to invite provocation.
Perhaps that was the point.
"Prepare the procession," the Emperor said.
The order rang out like steel striking stone.
Far away, at the foot of Thousand Lotus Peak, clouds began to gather.
The Thousand Lotus Peak was silent, save for the whisper of the blood rain. Before them stood the towering white jade gates of the palace, etched with lotus patterns so lifelike they seemed ready to bloom.
The Emperor took a step forward, his breath steady but his pulse taut. The monks of the Sun Temple stood behind him in orderly rows. Shen Min's eyes scanned every shadow, every flicker of movement. Lu Qing, the Jade Queen, was still as a carved statue, but her fingers tapped the lacquered edge of her fan.
Then it came—
A voice. Low. Cold. Mature. The kind of voice that carried not just words, but weight.
"What do you want, Xiao Feng?"
The sound froze the court where they stood. No one dared speak that name. No one but her.
Whispers rippled through the immortals. The rumors were true.
The Emperor lifted his chin. "Come out," he said, his voice deep but measured.
Instead, the air shifted. A crushing, suffocating pressure swept through the courtyard like an invisible tide. Even the seasoned generals staggered back. Monks dropped to their knees, gasping for breath.
The Emperor's robe sleeves trembled in the weight of it. His heart thudded. She's stronger than before.
Shen Min frowned and moved a step closer to him, but said nothing.
After a long, grinding silence, Mei Lian spoke again.
"Repeated requests," she said, her tone mocking, "from the same man who once let the world believe I would never return."
The words slid into the Emperor like cold steel.
"I did not—" he began, but she didn't let him finish.
"You did nothing," she said. "And in that silence, you spoke louder than any decree."
Another wave of pressure rolled out from the palace, so thick the air itself groaned. Even Baihe Xianweng, who had seen countless storms, had to plant his staff into the ground to keep steady.
"Enough," Shen Min cut in, her voice sharp as a blade. "We came here for answers, not to trade wounds."
The pressure lightened—slightly.
Then the white jade gates groaned, and slowly, they opened.
She emerged.
Mei Lian.
The blood rain fell over her, painting her silver hair in crimson threads. Her robe was pale as frost, but its hems were soaked scarlet. Her face—serene, cold, and flawless—was the kind of beauty that could silence a battlefield. Eyes like frozen glass swept over the assembly, and every immortal present dropped to one knee in greeting.
Every immortal… except the Emperor's family, and Lu Qing.
Mei Lian's gaze moved over them without pause—until it settled on a younger woman standing in the front. The Fifth Empress. Her lips curved faintly, not in warmth, but in something distant and bittersweet.
"You've grown," Mei Lian said quietly to her, as if speaking to no one else.
Then her gaze shifted back to the Emperor. Her eyes were cold, devoid of any emotion.
"What happened?" she asked.
—End of Chapter 5—