Li Xuan's eyelids fluttered open to the unwelcome glare of midday sun streaming through the ornate silk curtains of his chamber. His head throbbed like a war drum from the previous night's indulgence—nothing excessive, just a few too many cups of fermented spirit while lounging in the palace gardens, avoiding yet another tedious lecture on state affairs. He stretched lazily, his silk robes tangling around him like a defeated serpent, and yawned. The room was a testament to royal excess: golden embroidery on every surface, jade carvings of mythical beasts lining the shelves, and a massive four-poster bed that could swallow a small army. Yet, for all its grandeur, it felt more like a gilded cage.
A faint chime echoed from the water clock in the corner. Li Xuan's eyes widened. "No... no, no, no." He bolted upright, heart pounding. The council meeting. It was supposed to start at dawn. The sun was already high—mid-morning at least. How had he slept through the servants' calls? Or had they given up on waking him after the umpteenth time?
Panic surged through him like a poorly channeled qi flow. He scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over a discarded scroll of poetry he'd been half-heartedly reading the night before. "Idiot! Lazy, good-for-nothing..." he muttered to himself, throwing on his formal robes in a frenzy. The deep crimson silk, embroidered with the royal dragon emblem, hung awkwardly on his lean frame. At 25, he was tall and broad-shouldered, with the sharp features of the royal bloodline—high cheekbones, piercing dark eyes, and hair as black as midnight ink. But his cultivation, stuck at the peak of Gold Realm due to sheer laziness, lacked the ethereal glow that marked true masters. He looked more like a disheveled scholar than the Crown Prince of the Imperial Realm.
Sneaking through the palace halls was an art he'd perfected over years of shirking duties. The Imperial Palace was a sprawling complex in the heart of the central capital, with marble floors polished to a mirror sheen, towering pillars carved with scenes of ancient battles, and gardens blooming with spirit-infused flowers that hummed with faint energy. Guards patrolled in crisp uniforms, their Silver Realm cultivations radiating disciplined aura. Li Xuan pressed against a shadowed alcove, waiting for a pair to pass. "Just act natural," he whispered, stepping out with feigned nonchalance.
He darted toward the Grand Hall, where the advisory council convened. Voices drifted from within—stern, measured tones discussing border tensions with the Eastern Kingdom. His father's voice boomed occasionally, a deep rumble that commanded respect. Li Xuan's stomach twisted. Father was back? The King had been away on one of his mysterious expeditions for months, leaving the Queen to handle daily affairs. If he was here...
Li Xuan slipped through a side door, hoping to blend into the shadows at the back. But the moment he entered, all eyes turned. The council chamber was a circular room dominated by a massive jade table etched with maps of the five major regions. Seated around it were representatives from the factions: the stern Military General with his scarred face, the shrewd Merchant Guild Master counting spirit stones in his mind, the elegant Diplomatic Envoy with her poised smile, the enigmatic Mage from the Council with hooded eyes, and a grizzled Common Folk representative who looked out of place amid the opulence. At the head sat his parents: King Li Feng, a towering figure in Immortal Realm cultivation, his presence like a storm cloud ready to unleash lightning, and Queen Li Ruoyan, graceful and warm, her Gold Realm aura a soothing counterpoint.
"Prince Li Xuan," the King's voice cut through the air like a blade. "How gracious of you to join us. Perhaps you mistook the dawn bell for a lullaby?"
Laughter rippled through the council, though it was polite and restrained. Li Xuan's face burned. He bowed deeply, forcing a sheepish grin. "Apologies, Father, Mother, esteemed council. I... overslept. It won't happen again."
The Queen sighed, her eyes—a mirror of his own—filled with profound disappointment. She was still beautiful at 52, her hair pinned with jade ornaments, but lines of worry etched her features. "Overslept? Again? Xuan'er, you're nearly 26. When I was your age, I had already borne two children and mediated three faction disputes. Your father had conquered the Northern Pass and ascended to Immortal Realm."
The King nodded, his expression unreadable. He appeared younger than his 55 years, cultivation slowing the march of time, but his gaze held the weight of centuries. "When I was your age, I had accomplished feats that shaped this realm. Battles won, alliances forged, cultivation breakthroughs that echoed through the lands."
Li Xuan straightened, defensiveness bubbling up. "Times are different now. The realm is at peace. There's no need for constant conquest."
The King's eyes narrowed, a flicker of disdain crossing his face. "Exactly. You're not different. That's the problem." He stood abruptly, his robes swirling with latent power. The air thickened with his Immortal Realm aura, making the room feel smaller. "This council is adjourned. I have matters elsewhere." Without another word, he strode out, vanishing down the hall in a blur of speed that spoke of his advanced cultivation.
The council members filed out, murmuring among themselves. Li Xuan caught snippets: "Lazy prince..." "Unfit to rule..." "If only the younger one..." His younger brother, Li Sheng, at 22, was already Gold Realm and handling minor diplomatic missions with ease. The comparison stung like a venomous qi strike.
Left alone with his mother, Li Xuan slumped into a chair. "Mother, I—"
She cornered him before he could finish, her voice low but laced with emotion. "Xuan'er, you've done nothing with your life. Nothing. You sleep through meetings, ignore your cultivation training, and spend your days in idle pursuits. Do you know how that reflects on us? On the dynasty?"
He averted his eyes, staring at the intricate map on the table. The Imperial Realm sprawled across it: the central capital, surrounded by five regions—Military-dominated North, Merchant-rich East, Diplomatic South, Mage-influenced West, and the vast Common Folk heartlands. Borders with rival empires loomed, and beyond, mysterious lands whispered of greater dangers. "I know, Mother. But ruling... it's not what I want. The pressure, the politics—"
"The pressure?" She placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch gentle yet firm. "I want grandchildren, Xuan'er. Before I'm too old to enjoy them, to hold them and see them grow. But that means you need to grow up first. Prove you can be a good father, a responsible husband. Your father agrees—married men are more grounded, more capable of leadership."
Li Xuan's heart sank. Grandchildren? The thought terrified him. He wasn't ready for marriage, let alone fatherhood. His cultivation, boosted by the royal bloodline's 30-40% advantage, should have propelled him to Immortal Realm by now. But he'd squandered it on laziness, preferring sleep and humor to meditation and martial drills. "Mother, please. Give me time."
"Time?" Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "You've had time. Your father and I have discussed this. An ultimatum is coming. You must change, or we'll have no choice but to intervene."
She turned away, leaving him alone in the vast chamber. Li Xuan buried his face in his hands, feeling utterly worthless. The weight of the crown, the expectations—it all crushed him. Outside, the palace gardens bloomed under the sun, spirit flowers absorbing qi from the air, their petals glowing faintly. Commoners in the distance tended fields, their Bronze Realm cultivations humble but earnest. Even they progressed through sheer merit, while he, with every advantage, stagnated.
"Why can't I just... be?" he whispered to the empty room. But deep down, he knew the answer. The realm demanded more. His parents demanded more. And now, with his father's cryptic dismissals and his mother's yearning for legacy, the noose tightened.
As the afternoon sun dipped lower, Li Xuan wandered the halls aimlessly. Servants bowed as he passed, their eyes averted in deference—or pity? He ended up in the training courtyard, where guards sparred with disciplined precision. Their qi flows clashed in bursts of silver light, breakthroughs happening through sweat and determination. Li Xuan watched enviously. Once, as a child, he'd shown promise. But insecurity had crept in, masked by humor and avoidance.
A familiar voice broke his reverie. "Highness? You look like you've seen a ghost." Bai Yuan, his best friend and palace official, approached with a grin. At 25, Bai Yuan was Silver Realm, loyal to a fault, with a round face and easy laugh that hid sharp intellect.
Li Xuan forced a chuckle. "Worse. I've seen my future, and it's bleak."
Bai Yuan clapped him on the back. "Come on, it's not that bad. Overslept again? The council will forget by tomorrow."
But Li Xuan shook his head. "Not this time. Father's back, and Mother's talking about... marriage. Grandchildren. As if I'm ready for any of that."
Bai Yuan's eyes widened. "Whoa. Ultimatum territory? Well, maybe it's what you need. A kick in the robes to get you cultivating seriously."
Li Xuan sighed, leaning against a pillar. "Maybe. But what woman would want a lazy prince like me? I'd rather sleep than rule."
Bai Yuan laughed. "Then find one who'll drag you out of bed. Or five. In cultivation circles, the strong take what they need."
The joke landed awkwardly, but it planted a seed. Li Xuan stared at the horizon, where the capital's spires pierced the sky. The Eternal Circle, those mysterious observers of promising cultivators, were said to watch from afar. Did they see him? A failure?
As evening fell, Li Xuan retreated to his chambers, the day's embarrassment replaying in his mind. He collapsed onto his bed, staring at the canopy. "Grow up," his mother's words echoed. But how? The path ahead felt impossible, a mountain he had no desire to climb.
Little did he know, the ultimatum would force him to ascend—or fall forever.