The night was as black as ink. Outside the tent, the wind howled, yet no one dared approach the central command. Inside, the flickering lamplight cast a sharp shadow over the cold features of the youth. Si Moheng sat alone at his desk, dressed in dark robes, his long hair loose and unkempt.
Gu Xingyu looked at him steadily. "You didn't bring me here to torture me, did you?"
Si Moheng didn't answer immediately. He stared at the unfinished chess game on the desk, picking up a piece. "Gu Xingyu... what do you think 'fate' actually is?"
His voice was light but crystal clear in the silence. "They say you carry the Yao-Seal, that you are the Chosen One, and that the Five Yao will gather for you." He looked up, his eyes harboring unreadable emotions. "But tell me—if you had no watch and no seal, would the Five Yao still guard you? Would you still be who you are now?"
Xingyu frowned but remained silent.
"I don't believe in fate," Si Moheng whispered, tapping the chess piece against the wood. Clack. "If I believed in fate, I would have died on that snowy night years ago. My mother and I were exiled to the border, living among death-row prisoners. My mother died outside the camp. Do you know what they called me?"
He smiled, a smile sharp as a blade. "'The Surplus Bloodline.'"
Xingyu's expression softened slightly, but she didn't interrupt.
"Everyone thinks imperial power is a gift of blood and fate. From the moment of birth, Si Moyan is the Crown Prince, and Si Yirou is the Eldest Princess. And what am I?" He spoke plainly, yet the words cut like a knife into an old wound. "A prince whose name no one even remembers."
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to suppress his emotions. "My mother told me: if you cannot choose your fate, then seize it. I learned to wait. I learned to let everyone underestimate me." He stood up and walked to the map, pointing at various strongholds like placing stones on a board. "I can walk with commoners or drink with high priests. I can kill silently or make you kneel willingly in an illusion. This world doesn't need a savior; it needs someone who knows exactly what they want."
His gaze landed on the red line marked "Yao Capital."
"I believe in fists, in strategy, and in traps that leave the enemy no choice. If I don't seize power, I am at the mercy of others. If I don't become King, I will be just a name beneath the guillotine. This game began the day I was born."
He sat back down, his finger resting on the center of the board. "Gu Xingyu... are you the Chosen One? Or just another piece I can use?"
He let out a low, inhumanly cold laugh. "Let's gamble—will you change me, or will I change the world?"
[The Piercing Truth]
The air in the tent seemed to freeze. Si Moheng stood in the shadows, his eyes like a turbulent dark sea. But Xingyu simply watched him, her gaze unafraid, as if viewing a storm she had long anticipated.
"Do you know where your eyes flickered when you said those words?" she asked softly.
Si Moheng blinked, surprised by her first sentence.
"Down and to the left," she offered a faint smile. "It means you were recalling true emotions, not weaving a story. You didn't lie to me, Si Moheng. You truly were that child abandoned in the snow, and you truly fought your way to the present. It's terrifying... but it's also tragic."
Her voice held no mockery, yet his brow twitched.
"You think by controlling others, you can avoid being abandoned again. But you've forgotten: true control doesn't come from fear. It comes from people wanting to stand by your side." She paused, her words like a needle piercing the depths. "You aren't asking if I'll choose you. You are desperate for someone—just one person—to stand by you for who you are, not for seals or bloodlines. But you... you don't even dare believe that's possible."
Si Moheng stared at her, his mind momentarily blank. The thought he had never let anyone see had been pulled into the light, calmly and cruelly.
Xingyu didn't press further. She looked back at the chessboard. "I will not be your pawn in this game. But don't be too confident that you're the one playing it, either... Si Moheng, your 'chess-heart' is too chaotic." She looked up. "You say you don't believe in fate? Then try to persuade me without using it."
A long silence followed. Si Moheng stared at her for a long time, the piece in his hand never falling. Suddenly, he laughed—a shallow, nuanced laugh he had never shown before.
"No one... has ever said these things to me," he said, his voice low and gravelly, stripped of his usual sarcasm. It was as if something had finally loosened the iron walls around his heart. He looked as if he wanted to speak, but he swallowed the words.
He stepped closer. Every step was devoid of threat, yet the pressure in the tent dropped. He stopped in front of her, locking onto her eyes. "Your gaze... it's truly impossible to look away from."
Xingyu didn't flinch. "I think I'm beginning to admire you," he said, his tone low and serious.
"A pity," she smiled faintly. "Admiration is never a reason to waver. You admire me, yet you keep me trapped. You say you respect me, yet you want to fit me into your scheme. You want possession, not understanding."
[The Escape Path]
Si Moheng eventually left the tent, his black shadow disappearing into the night. His lieutenant, Xiao You, approached him. "Your Highness?"
"That woman... she is different from what I expected," Si Moheng said, his fingers subconsciously rubbing a black chess piece in his sleeve. "She is too calm. It's as if she was reading me. Interestingly... I don't hate the feeling."
Xiao You was stunned. Si Moheng never let emotion interfere with a plan, yet he had just left a crack in his armor for Gu Xingyu.
Meanwhile, back in her cell, Xingyu looked at an inconspicuous corner. Beneath the heavy rug was a hollow spot she had discovered on her first night. It was an old supply tunnel, long since blocked by silt and debris.
She had no brute strength, so she used her Yao-energy. Every night, after the guards passed, she pretended to adjust her rugs. She let out threads of Yao-energy as thin as hair to vibrate and loosen the soil. Using a sharpened wooden slat from her bedframe and an old metal tray, she dug, bit by bit.
During the day, she mixed the dirt with the ashes of her brazier or stuffed it into old sacks, carrying it out under the guise of "cleaning."
After three nights, the tunnel was wide enough to crawl through. She had even wrapped scrap cloth around the sharpest rocks to prevent cuts.
It was a desperate, all-or-nothing gamble. She wasn't just waiting for the Five Yao. She was carving her own path to them.