[Night · East Pavilion Study]
Candlelight flickered, shadows wavering.
The room was solemn and still, with only three people seated together.
The Crown Prince spoke first, his expression grave.
"Some days ago, Gu Xingyu met with me in secret and disclosed everything regarding the Nether Realm. She said—
the people of the Nether Realm are not inherently violent or cruel. Those who slaughter cities and raze villages under the name of 'Cracked Yao' are in fact the Cracked Yao Legion under Feng Mian's command.
"Feng Mian is our true enemy."
Si Mo-heng's brows darkened as he nodded.
"Previously, I maintained a façade of alliance with Feng Mian, but only to uncover his secrets."
His gaze was hard as iron, his voice low and cold.
"General Luo Ting's death—and my mother's as well—were all orchestrated by him."
The Crown Prince looked at him, his tone easing slightly.
"Xingyu told me as well—if the opportunity arises, she will see General Luo and Consort Xian fully exonerated."
Those words struck Mo-heng like a blow to the chest.
He fell silent for a moment, turmoil surging beneath his calm exterior.
So she remembered. Not only that—she was willing to clear his mother's name.
Emotions churned within him, yet he merely lowered his voice.
"I will remember this… always."
By the candlelight, the Crown Prince studied him from the corner of his eye.
During the days Gu Xingyu had been absent, this younger brother of his had carried a chilling hostility—his words edged with restrained hatred. Yet now, as he lowered his head in response, his demeanor seemed steadier, gentler. The sharp malice in his eyes had softened.
The Crown Prince felt a subtle stir.
…He truly is different now. It seems only Gu Xingyu can temper him.
At last, Si Yi-rou—who had been listening intently—spoke.
"What does Elder Brother wish us to do?"
Her voice was respectful, though unease flickered between her brows.
The Crown Prince slowly withdrew his gaze, his expression returning to composure.
"Yi-rou, you will speak for the people of Nether City. Let the world understand that they are merely citizens abandoned for their bloodline and illness—not monsters, nor omens of disaster.
"This must begin with scholarly discourse. Only then can public sentiment be shaken."
He then turned to Mo-heng, his tone sharpening.
"And you—handle Feng Mian's matters exclusively. If you catch even the faintest thread, pursue it relentlessly. We cannot allow him to continue his atrocities."
Mo-heng crossed his arms, a cold smile tugging at his lips.
"An excellent division of duties, Crown Prince. After all, Imperial Sister once engineered rumors against Xingyu herself—rumors that spread through Yao Capital in a single night."
Si Yi-rou's expression changed at once. She shot him a sharp glare.
"Don't mock me! I acted as I did only because Feng Mian manipulated things from the shadows! If not for his schemes, how could I have been mistaken for someone so malicious?"
Her voice cooled, disgust flaring in her eyes.
"Feng Mian… he is the true instigator. If not for him, I would never have developed resentment toward Gu Xingyu."
She clenched her teeth.
"He must be eliminated."
The candles burned low. The three harbored different thoughts, yet spoke no more.
From this night onward, overt plans and hidden maneuvers would unfold in tandem.
A web woven against Feng Mian had begun.
[Changle Palace · Late Night]
Lanterns dimmed. Palace walls stood silent.
After leaving the East Pavilion, Si Yi-rou returned to Changle Palace, her thoughts still unsettled.
She entered the hall. Candlelight wavered. Unfinished scrolls lay piled on the desk.
After a moment's contemplation, she ordered brush, ink, and paper, and sat down herself.
"If the world's prejudice is to be changed, it must begin with the scholars,"
she murmured, writing swiftly.
She drafted, revised, and refined—
Draft: Declaration of Clear Discourse
First: Clarify the Origin
The people of the Nether Realm are not demonic. They suffer from afflictions born of bloodline. Long abandoned by the world, they were forced to dwell on the margins. Yet they weave, they craft, they uphold filial duty. They are no different from the people of Yao Realm.
Second: Refute the Falsehoods
In recent years, the calamities attributed to Cracked Yao—cities slaughtered, villages burned—were crimes committed by treacherous factions falsely bearing that name. Netherfolk have been scapegoated, branded as fiends. This is a grave fallacy. Many among them are imprisoned, exiled, humiliated—how can they all be deemed monsters?
Third: State the Principle
If a realm claims unity yet abandons its own people to wastelands, where is benevolence?
If bloodlines define life and death, where is the Great Way?
Today it is the Nether Realm—tomorrow it may be us.
Fourth: Set the Heart Right
May scholars discern truth from rumor.
May the common people know they too are human—sharing sorrow and joy alike.
Heaven shows no bias; benevolent rule lies in the heart.
If this thought can be carried forward, the people of the Nether Realm will no longer be demons, but kin bound to Yao Realm by blood.
Page after page took shape, ink glistening beneath the lamplight.
Si Yi-rou's fingers trembled slightly, yet her resolve hardened.
"Only through clear discourse can hearts be shaken—and Feng Mian's lies and blood debts washed away."
She closed the first draft and instructed her attendant,
"At dawn, send this to the scholarly academies. Let the scholars read it first."
The night deepened. Changle Palace did not sleep.
The proud Eldest Princess was no longer a bystander—
she would wield her pen to speak for the abandoned.
[Next Day · Scholarly Academy]
Morning light rose.
A newly delivered manuscript lay upon the desks, signed:
"Changle Palace · Si Yi-rou."
The scholars gathered, unfolding it.
"Written by the Eldest Princess herself?" someone murmured in surprise.
"To speak for the Nether Realm… this defies the times," another frowned.
A white-bearded elder stroked his beard, smiling faintly.
"The words may be unsettling, but the reasoning stands. If Netherfolk are abandoned for blood and illness, how can they all be condemned as demons? This piece gives one pause."
A younger scholar countered softly,
"But if such words reach the masses, will it not stir panic? The world fears the Nether Realm."
The elder shook his head.
"Precisely why someone must speak first. To use clear discourse to correct chaos—this is no small courage."
A middle-aged classicist closed the scroll quietly.
"The Eldest Princess has always been gifted. To now speak for the discarded… this will stir waves in the scholarly world."
Silence followed. Only candlelight reflected on inked characters.
That brief text had already sown doubt, admiration, hesitation, and hope.
[Changle Palace · Late Night]
Night fell again. Candles glimmered softly.
Si Yi-rou held a report newly delivered—records of discussions from scholars and common folk alike.
She read quietly.
—"The Nether Realm knows no daylight—how could its people be ordinary?"
—"I've traded with Netherfolk at border towns. They have skills and decent hearts."
—"If the Eldest Princess dares publish this, she must have proof."
Her fingers trembled slightly.
Doubt still dominated. Mockery lingered.
Yet those few voices of trust shone like candles in the dark.
"So… there are still those willing to believe," she murmured, closing the report.
When she looked up again, her gaze was steady, resolute.
"If no one speaks, the world will always see them as monsters. Since I've taken the first step, I must continue."
Outside, night wind stirred the curtains.
Her shadow stood tall in the candlelight.
This war of ink had only just begun.
A maid entered with a teasing smile.
"Your Highness, I saw General Li Yan—the Zhenrong General and Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guard—leading patrols. He's circled the palace three times already. I think… he wants to see you."
Si Yi-rou paused, tea cup stilling in her hand.
A flicker of fluster passed through her eyes before composure returned.
"Nonsense," she replied coolly—though her lips curved faintly.
The maid laughed.
"Then why slow down every time he reaches Changle Palace?"
Si Yi-rou set down the cup, pretending severity.
"Another word, and I'll have you copy the Admonitions for Women ten times."
Yet the warmth in her voice betrayed her.
"That stubborn stone…"
She lowered her gaze, fingers brushing the manuscript, a quiet sense of reassurance blooming within her.
Outside the palace walls, someone was standing guard.
[Yao Palace · Night Patrol]
The night was still.
Li Yan marched with halberd in hand, Imperial Guards behind him.
Before Changle Palace, his steps slowed unconsciously.
"General, this area has already been patrolled twice," a guard whispered.
Li Yan's brow twitched.
"Check once more. The palace walls must be secure."
His tone was firm, yet his gaze drifted toward the curtained palace gate. Candlelight revealed the silhouette of a woman within.
His chest tightened.
By day, she had shaken the scholarly world with blade-sharp prose.
By night, she stood alone.
Li Yan tightened his grip on the halberd.
Yi-rou… don't be afraid. I'm here.
The patrol moved on. Only wind brushed the palace walls.
Back inside, candlelight dimmed. Si Yi-rou closed the scroll, fingertips lingering over the ink.
She recalled something Li Yan once said, months ago, when speaking of Gu Xingyu.
"Yi-rou, the title of Saintess is not hollow," he had said steadily.
"If she did not carry the world in her heart, how could the Five Yao be willing to stake their lives for her?"
At the time, Yi-rou had merely scoffed. She respected Gu Xingyu—but kept her distance.
Now she understood how narrow her own heart had once been.
"Saintess…" she murmured.
"She truly deserves the name."
She lifted her gaze to the bronze lamp. The flickering light revealed a calm she had never known before.
She no longer clung to jealousy or obsession.
Her thoughts rested only on the solid figure beyond the palace walls.
"Li Yan…" she whispered, a gentle smile blooming.
"To stand beside you—that is all I seek in this life."
The curtain stirred. Candle shadows swayed.
The proud Eldest Princess finally laid down ambition and fixation, leaving only a single, simple wish—
to spend her life with him.