"Wake up."
Shenyan groaned and pulled the covers over his head.
"Get up, you lazy silk-wrapped prince."
A twitch. A groan.
"Do you want a miracle or not?"
Stillness.
"Fine. I'll sing the ten thousand rules of Tiansheng, as slow as a snail moves."
Shenyan's eye cracked open.
"You wouldn't dare," he mumbled, voice raspy with sleep.
The voice cleared its throat.
"One: Thou shall not hold —"
"All right, all right!" Shenyan sat up, hair sticking in odd directions. His eyes were heavy, and when he looked toward the window, the sky outside was still cloaked in velvet blue. "It's not even dawn," he muttered. "You dragged me out of sleep for what?"
"Miracles don't just appear," the voice said smugly. "They are forged. You want one? Then you'll make it—with my help."
Shenyan yawned, rubbing his face with both hands. "What's the recipe for your so-called miracle?"
"Your body, for one, is disgraceful. Before you ever reach the threshold of cultivation, your mortal shell would betray you. So—step one: Physical training. We strengthen the body before awakening the qi."
"Tch. So I become a sweaty fool before I become an immortal one?"
"Exactly! You'll be a fool either way."
Shenyan stared flatly at the wall. Then muttered under his breath, "This is probably punishment from the heavens…"
"It's your chance at salvation."
A long silence passed.
Then Shenyan threw off the covers and stood, stretching his limbs with a resigned sigh. "Fine. But if I tear a muscle, you're going to feel it too."
"Try me."
--
Few minutes later, Shenyan finished tying the sash of his plainer robes—lightweight, dark-toned, and comfortable enough for movement. Nothing like the silks and gold-threaded finery he was usually draped in.
He moved toward the door, hand on the handle, when he froze.
"…I can't train," he muttered. "If my father finds out, he'll kill me. And probably kill you, too."
"Hm. That's true," the voice mused. "I didn't think about that."
Shenyan blinked. "You didn't think about that? What kind of deity are you?"
"A very stubborn one," the voice said proudly. "Quite well-known, once. Respected… Feared… Banished. Loathed by the heavens. That sort of thing."
Shenyan narrowed his eyes. "So a disgraced deity."
"That's none of your business."
"Really? Because I'm the one you're haunting."
"Mentoring."
"Possessing."
"Guiding."
Shenyan sighed. "I can't keep calling you 'the voice in my head.' If you're going to make my life more miserable than it already is, at least give me a name."
There was a pause. Then:
"Jing Xuanzi."
Shenyan blinked. "That's… oddly grand."
"As it should be."
"Well, Jing Xuanzi, if I get caught training and dragged into the punishment halls, I'm blaming you."
"Excellent. Let them try to punish a voice in your skull. I'd like to see them try."
Shenyan smirked faintly. Then opened the door, stepping into the silent hallway, cloak trailing behind him like the shadow of someone no one had been missing.
"Where do I go? Some secret cave in the mountains? Or probably a hidden training ground?"
"Go to the main courtyard," Xuanzi suddenly ordered.
Shenyan halted mid-step. "What? Are you crazy?"
"Yes."
"No, I mean—you are very crazy." Shenyan looked around as if someone might catch him talking to air. "The main courtyard? That's the first place the guards check when they do rounds!"
"Exactly. Which means no one will expect you to be stupid enough to go there. Perfect hiding spot."
Shenyan snorted, exasperated. "If I wasn't crazy myself, I wouldn't be talking to you."
"Exactly," Xuanzi said with an approving tone.
Shenyan paused. That reply felt… odd. "Wait, what do you mean by that?"
There was a brief silence, then Xuanzi answered, his voice lower, more thoughtful.
"Gods aren't supposed to communicate with mortals. Not directly. Unless it's a formal summons, punishment, or divine duty. Otherwise, it's forbidden."
Shenyan furrowed his brow. "Forbidden? As in… treason?"
"As in punishable. Severely."
He blinked. "Then why did you do it?"
No sarcasm, no teasing. Just honest confusion. It made Xuanzi pause.
"Sometimes," he said quietly, "rules made by the Head don't make sense. Plenty of deities break them in secret. Take Nezha—he slips out of Heaven's boundaries often. Always pretending to be loyal, but he still meddles. The Jade Emperor overlooks it because… well, Nezha plays the part."
"But you don't," Shenyan said softly.
"I don't," Xuanzi admitted. "When rules are stupid, I don't pretend. I break them. Openly."
Shenyan tilted his head. "So what's the perk of breaking heavenly law?"
"Oh," Xuanzi deadpanned, "I got banished."
Shenyan choked back a laugh.
"But I'm very powerful."
That made Shenyan grin.
"Fine," he muttered, stepping quietly toward the courtyard. "Let's go break a few rules."
Shenyan tiptoed through the cold stone corridors, barely breathing as he approached the main courtyard. His heart thumped wildly, and for good reason—this was the emperor's palace, not a playground. If a single guard caught him...
But strangely, the guards by the entryway were—sleeping.
Flat out. Snoring.
"What in Heaven…" Shenyan whispered.
Still cautious, he stepped inside. The courtyard was empty. Too empty. The moonlight cast pale shadows across the tiles, but no one stirred. It almost felt… staged.
"Xuanzi?" Shenyan called, voice hushed. No answer.
He waited. Minutes dragged by. "Xuanzi!"
Silence.
The cold air started to nip at his neck. Maybe he was being pranked. Maybe the 'great deity' was actually a lunatic voice in his head.
Half an hour passed.
Then—finally—Xuanzi's voice echoed again, calm and clipped.
"Stretch. Then run. Ten laps around the courtyard. Now."
"What? Now?! You ghosted me for thirty minutes and suddenly—"
"Speed. Swiftness. Then strength. You need to be faster. You need to react like lightning. And you need your muscles to stop looking like boiled noodles."
Grumbling, Shenyan obeyed. The first lap nearly broke his ankles. But he ran. And he kept running. After that came squats, push-ups, strikes, and strange flowing movements Xuanzi claimed were "signature techniques of the Dusk Step School." Shenyan didn't even know such a school existed.
He was panting, aching, and definitely swearing under his breath by the end of the hour—but strangely, not broken. He had always been weak, but something about this rhythm clicked. His body hurt, but it listened.
Then he heard voices.
Footsteps.
The guards were waking up.
Panic surged through his veins. "Xuanzi—Xuanzi they're coming—they'll see me—"
Too late.
The guards entered the courtyard.
Shenyan froze.
But… they didn't stop. One of them walked right past him.
"Smells like white dahlias," the guard muttered.
"Ugh, again?" the other yawned. "It's that tree by the shrine. Always blooms at weird hours."
They passed.
Shenyan blinked, mouth open.
"Shut up," Xuanzi suddenly snapped.
He straightened, startled. "Wh—"
"Don't speak. Just listen." Xuanzi's voice was firm.
"I used a Ghosting Spell. A high-level concealment technique. Your body can't be seen, but your voice can still be heard. You want to train? Fine. But if you get caught whispering to yourself like a lunatic, I can't save you from a public flogging."
Shenyan swallowed his retort.
"The spell uses natural qi. That's why the guards smelled white dahlias. They're the anchor. Now hush. Stay still."
And Shenyan obeyed.
Not because he wanted to—but because for the first time in his life, someone had made him feel… invisible and powerful all at once.