The journey back to the capital felt strange.
It had been years since I last crossed the golden bridge leading into Heaven's Reach City. On my first visit, I was a proud fifth prince, full of illusion and trust. Now, I returned as the man they exiled—armed not with a crown or army, but with strength and silence.
The Royal Summon Permit gleamed at my belt, granting me unchallenged entry. Even the elite guards bowed as I walked past. Their eyes, once cold, now lowered in quiet respect.
Inside the imperial hall, twelve princes stood waiting in ceremonial robes, each face carefully calm but burning with emotion behind their eyes. Ministers filled both sides, whispering as I entered.
Then, from the jade throne above, the emperor lifted his gaze. His voice still carried the same calm weight that had once made empires tremble.
"Li Qingfeng," he said slowly, using the name I had not heard in years, "you have returned."
I knelt respectfully. "Your Majesty."
He studied me for a long time before nodding. "Rise, Duke of Northern Rebirth."
I stood, meeting his eyes. For the first time, there was no fear in me—only understanding. He was still my father, but I was no longer his fallen child.
The court crier read aloud my deeds: reclaiming the border cities, returning the treasure, and rebuilding the provinces. My name echoed against the marble walls as courtiers nodded and murmured.
Finally, the emperor raised a hand and silenced them. "You have done the empire a great service, Ling Chen," he said. "I called you here to ask what reward you seek."
I bowed slightly. "Your Majesty, I did only what a prince should. Serving the empire and protecting the people is our duty. I need no reward for fulfilling it."
The hall fell quiet. Some ministers exchanged bewildered looks. The Fourth Prince smirked faintly, whispering to his brother, "He's pretending humility again."
But the emperor didn't speak at once. He looked down at his hand on the armrest, then back at me with a faint, weary smile.
"When I exiled you," he said, "I thought you were weak—a prince too soft for this cruel world. Yet today I see a man I no longer understand. Tell me, Qingfeng, do you truly desire nothing?"
His tone was calm but probing. He wanted to see what lay behind my silence.
I smiled gently. "Your Majesty, truly, I wish for nothing else. I only want to live peacefully, as an ideal prince who brings no trouble. I am not interested in your throne, nor in the battles between brothers. You need not worry about me."
A ripple passed through the hall. The princes exchanged uneasy glances. The Fourth Prince snorted softly. "Peaceful? No one who commands an army of demons and gods lives peacefully."
I turned my head slightly toward him but didn't speak. Instead, I breathed in slowly.
"Still," I continued calmly, my voice echoing through the golden chamber, "since you all insist I name a wish, then I have one request. Not for gold, titles, or lands."
The emperor inclined his head. "Speak."
I straightened. My tone stayed warm, but something inside me shifted—a quiet power rising from deep within.
"I kindly ask that neither the court, nor my royal brothers, nor any sect or noble provoke me in the future," I said softly. "Because if that happens… the balance this empire stands on will fall. And only one kingdom will remain—mine."
My words were gentle, but as they left my mouth, the air in the great hall trembled. My aura—usually hidden—unfolded like a storm breaking free from chains.
It was not anger, not threat, but absolute certainty. The kind of strength that didn't need fire or thunder to be felt.
Every cultivator and prince in the hall felt it. The pressure pressed down like invisible hands. Some of the weaker ministers trembled; one even dropped his scroll.
The emperor's robe fluttered as spiritual waves swept across the room. His eyes narrowed, but not in anger—rather, in awe and pain.
"Enough," he said quietly, his voice cutting through the pressure. "Withdraw your aura, child. This is the royal court, not a battlefield."
I bowed slightly, sealing my energy back into stillness. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. It was not meant as a warning or threat—only a request."
Silence lingered. The twelve princes dared not move. Even arrogant Li Xian lowered his head, his face pale.
Finally, the emperor exhaled and leaned back on his throne. He studied me long and hard, the corners of his lips softening into a strange smile.
"You've grown indeed, my son," he said. "Once, your words were full of dreams; now they carry the weight of the heavens. Perhaps the world will stand still if you command it."
He looked around the court. "Let everyone here remember this day. The Fifth Prince asks for peace, not power. Let none challenge him again."
Several officials murmured agreement, bowing their heads deeply. The princes nodded stiffly, unable to meet my gaze.
Then the emperor stood, lifting the imperial seal. His voice was calm once more, but his eyes shone with unspoken pride.
"For your loyalty, restraint, and service to the empire, I grant you one more title—Guardian of the North. Your lands will remain your own to govern, free from imperial interference."
I bowed low. "Your kindness humbles me, Father."
"The heavens themselves seem to favour you," the emperor said quietly. "Do not let pride darken your light. The throne welcomes peace—may you keep it."
As the court dismissed, Yue Zhilan appeared quietly at the doorway, disguised as a maid. Our eyes met for a moment, and she smiled faintly.
When I turned to leave, the hall remained hushed. Only when my footsteps faded did whispers rise again—soft, uncertain, and reverent.
In one morning, the forgotten prince had silenced twelve princes, shaken the empire's core, and earned the trust even of the man who once cast him away.
Outside, the sun broke through the clouds, golden light flooding the marble courtyards. I looked at it and smiled.
Peace, I thought. Let me keep it as long as I can.