The morning sun over the Imperial Capital felt different. To Princess Zhao Ling, it didn't feel like a new day. It felt like a countdown.
Inside the Pavilion of Rising Dragons, the mood was electric, bordering on frantic.
"Stop squirming," Gu Ling commanded, her mechanical fingers deftly adjusting the silk straps of the Princess's ceremonial robes.
"I can't help it," Zhao Ling breathed, her face flushed. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her paralyzed legs dangling over the side. She gripped the mattress with white-knuckled intensity. "Today is the day, Gu Ling. Today... I walk."
She looked down at her feet. They were pale, smooth, and utterly lifeless. She tried to send a signal—just a twitch, a spark—but it was like shouting into a void. Silence.
"Don't test it yet," Gu Ling said, her voice unusually soft. She pulled a pair of embroidered slippers onto the Princess's limp feet. "Save your energy for the ritual."
Gu Ling spun her wheelchair around to face the mirror. She looked at her own legs, strapped securely into her chair.
"If the Heart works..." Gu Ling hesitated. "If it works for you, Ling... maybe it could..."
She didn't finish the sentence. She couldn't. The hope was too dangerous.
The door opened. Jiang Fan walked in. He wasn't wearing his usual loose lounging robes. He was wearing a formal black tunic with gold stitching—the attire of a Champion.
He looked at the two women.
"The carriage is ready," Jiang Fan said. He walked over to the Princess.
She reached up, grabbing his hands. Her palms were sweating.
"Jiang Fan," she whispered, her eyes wide and terrified. "What if it hurts? Reconnecting the nerves... Su Qing said it would feel like lightning."
"Then you scream," Jiang Fan said simply. He turned so his back was to her. "Come on. Your chariot awaits."
He squatted down. The Princess leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. He hooked his arms under her knees and hoisted her up.
She felt heavy today. Not physically—she was light as a feather—but the weight of her expectation was crushing. She buried her face in his neck, inhaling his scent, trying to ground herself.
"Take me to the miracle," she murmured against his skin.
THE ALTAR OF DECEIT
The Imperial Vault was not a place of worship. It was a cold, subterranean chamber beneath the palace, lined with blackened steel and pulsating with a low, throbbing hum.
In the center stood a pedestal made of dragon bone.
The Eternal Emperor stood waiting. He was flanked by Eunuch Wei and twelve Royal Arch-Mages. The air smelled of ozone and stale blood.
"You are late," the Emperor said, his voice echoing off the metal walls. He didn't look at his daughter. He looked at the glowing red gem—the Heart of the Celestial Dragon—clutched in Jiang Fan's hand.
"Traffic was bad," Jiang Fan said, carrying the Princess toward the pedestal. Yun Xi and Su Qing flanked him, weapons ready, while Gu Ling rolled silently behind.
Jiang Fan gently lowered the Princess onto a stone slab next to the pedestal. She arranged her legs with her hands, straightening her dress, trying to look dignified despite lying prone on a cold rock.
"Give me the Heart," the Emperor commanded, holding out his hand.
"The deal was a Wish," Jiang Fan said, his eyes narrowing. He didn't hand it over. "She wishes to walk. Perform the ritual."
The Emperor sneered. He gestured to the Arch-Mages.
"Begin."
The Mages began to chant. The room vibrated.
Jiang Fan placed the Heart on the pedestal.
HUMMMMMM.
The red gem flared with blinding light. Energy poured out of it—ancient, raw, and terrified Qi. It flowed into the floor, lighting up runes that spread across the chamber.
The Princess gasped. "I feel it! The energy... it's warm!"
She closed her eyes, visualizing her spine knitting together. She imagined the signal traveling down, past the break, igniting the nerves in her toes.
"Heal," she whispered. "Please, heal."
The light grew brighter. The hum became a roar.
And then... nothing.
The light didn't flow into her. It flowed past her.
It flowed directly into the walls of the chamber, into the massive batteries that powered the Capital's defense grid.
The Princess opened her eyes. She looked at her feet.
Still. Silent. Dead.
"I... I don't understand," she stammered, panic rising in her chest. "It's not working. Why isn't it working?"
She looked at the Emperor.
The Emperor wasn't chanting. He was smiling. A cold, cruel smile.
"Because, my foolish daughter," the Emperor said softly. "There is no wish."
THE TRUTH
The silence that followed was heavier than the gravity of a black hole.
"What?" Jiang Fan asked. His voice was very quiet.
"The Heart of the Celestial Dragon," the Emperor walked over to the pedestal, caressing the glowing gem. "It is not a genie. It is a battery. A condensed core of a Dragon's soul, yes. But it serves one purpose: Power. It powers the shields. It powers the city. It powers me."
He looked down at the Princess, who was trembling on the stone slab.
"Did you really believe in fairy tales, Zhao Ling? A wish? A miracle?" He laughed, a dry, rattling sound. "Magic follows the laws of exchange. To heal a severed spine? To regrow destroyed spirit channels? That is impossible. Even for a God."
"No," the Princess whimpered. She tried to sit up, dragging her useless body upright. "No! The legends say—"
"Legends are lies told to keep the peasants hopeful," the Emperor spat. "You are broken, child. Your nerves are severed. Your connection to the earth is gone. You will never walk again. You will never feel the grass beneath your feet. You will never run. You are a chair-bound cripple until the day you die."
He leaned closer, his eyes burning with malice.
"And no amount of wishing will change that."
The words hit her harder than the beast that broke her back.
Never.
The hope she had carried for weeks—the adrenaline that pushed her through rehab, the dreams that kept her awake—shattered.
She looked at her legs. They weren't waiting to be healed. They were just... meat. Pretty, useless meat attached to her body.
"I'm..." she choked, tears spilling down her face. "I'm stuck?"
"You are discarded," the Emperor corrected. "Now, get out of my vault. I have energy to harvest."
THE BREAKDOWN
Jiang Fan stood there. He looked at the Emperor. He looked at the Heart.
Then, he looked at the Princess.
She had collapsed back onto the stone slab. She wasn't screaming. She was staring at the ceiling with dead eyes. She had given up. The light inside her—the defiance, the fire—was gone.
Su Qing, standing in the corner, covered her nose.
"The smell," the blind girl whispered, trembling. "It smells like rotting orchids. It smells like despair."
Jiang Fan felt something snap inside his chest. It wasn't his patience. It was his restraint.
"You lied," Jiang Fan said.
"I ruled," the Emperor corrected. "Now, guards—"
CRACK.
Jiang Fan didn't attack the Emperor. He didn't attack the guards.
He punched the Heart of the Celestial Dragon.
He didn't use a technique. He used raw, unadulterated strength fueled by the System's rage.
The "indestructible" gem, the source of the Capital's power, the lie that had broken his Princess... shattered.
It exploded into a million shards of red dust.
The lights in the vault died. The hum stopped.
"YOU FOOL!" The Emperor shrieked, stumbling back. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"
"If it can't fix her," Jiang Fan said, his voice shaking the foundations of the palace, "then it is trash."
He turned his back on the Emperor.
He walked over to the stone slab.
"Ling," he said softly.
The Princess didn't look at him. "Leave me, Jiang Fan. He's right. I'm broken. I'm just a burden you have to carry."
"Yes," Jiang Fan said.
He reached down. He didn't ask for permission. He slid his arms under her limp body—one under her knees, one under her shoulders—and lifted her up.
She was dead weight. Her head lolled against his chest. She didn't hold on. Her arms hung limp at her sides, mirroring her legs. She was completely surrendered to gravity.
"You are a burden," Jiang Fan whispered into her ear as he held her tight against his chest. "You are heavy. You are high maintenance. You require ramps, and special chairs, and massages, and you complain when the tea is cold."
He walked toward the exit, Yun Xi and Su Qing clearing a path through the terrified Mages.
"But you are my burden."
He stopped at the door and looked back at the Emperor, who was screaming orders to seize them.
"Gu Ling," Jiang Fan said calmly. "Block the door."
Gu Ling rolled forward. Her eyes were streaming with tears—tears of rage for her friend.
"With pleasure."
She deployed a Gravity Mine.
BOOM.
The tunnel behind them collapsed, burying the Emperor and his Mages under tons of rock. It wouldn't kill them, but it would buy them time.
THE LONG WAY DOWN
They escaped the palace in the chaos of the blackout.
Back on the Sky-Whale Airship, safe in the clouds, the silence was suffocating.
Jiang Fan carried the Princess into her room. He laid her on the bed.
She didn't move. She just lay there, staring at her paralyzed legs.
"I thought..." she whispered, her voice cracking. "I really thought I would walk out of there."
Jiang Fan sat on the edge of the bed.
"I know."
"What do I do now?" She looked at him, her eyes red and swollen. "There is no cure. The Emperor said it. My channels are gone. I am... I am this. Forever."
She hit her legs with her fist. Thump. Thump.
"I can't feel this! I can't feel anything! I am half a corpse!"
She broke down, sobbing hysterically. She grabbed Jiang Fan's lapels, shaking him.
"Why did you save me?! Why didn't you let the beast kill me?! This is worse! This is hell!"
Jiang Fan didn't pull away. He let her scream. He let her hit him. He let her mourn the death of the person she used to be.
When she finally ran out of energy, collapsing against his chest, he held her.
He stroked her hair.
"We aren't going to fix you, Ling," Jiang Fan said quietly. "That dream is gone."
She sobbed into his shirt.
"But we are going to upgrade you."
He pulled back so he could look her in the eye.
"So you can't walk. Fine. Walking is overrated. It's slow. It hurts your knees."
He gestured to the door where Gu Ling was waiting.
"Gu Ling hasn't walked in ten years. Is she broken?"
The Princess sniffled. "No. She's... she's the Iron Queen."
"And you are the Golden Phoenix. You don't need legs to rule, Ling. You need vision. And you need a team that is willing to carry you when the battery dies."
He reached down and picked up her limp hand. He kissed her knuckles.
"I will be your legs," Jiang Fan swore. "If you want to go to the mountains, I will carry you. If you want to go to the ocean, I will carry you. If you want to conquer the Empire that lied to you... I will carry you to the throne and put you on it."
The Princess looked at him. She saw the truth in his eyes.
There was no magic. There was no miracle.
There was just a man, holding a broken woman, promising that she would never be left behind.
"You promise?" she whispered, her voice tiny.
"I promise."
Jiang Fan lay down next to her on the bed, pulling the blanket over them both. He arranged her legs so they were comfortable, a routine he now knew by heart.
"Now sleep," Jiang Fan said, closing his eyes. "We have a war to start in the morning."
The Princess lay there in the dark. She couldn't feel her toes. She couldn't wiggle her feet. That part of her life was over.
But she could feel Jiang Fan's arm around her waist. She could feel the warmth of his body.
For the first time, she stopped waiting for a cure.
And she started planning revenge.