Trumpets blared across the Imperial Capital.
The sounds were sharp, regal — the unmistakable cry of the Dragon's Arrival.
After six months at the border pacifying rebels and inspecting garrisons, Emperor Xuanlong was returning to his palace.
Civilians bowed in the streets. Ministers lined the crimson road with heads lowered. Even birds seemed to hush their wings as the golden chariot passed.
In the inner palace, noble ladies reapplied powder. Servants scurried to polish lanterns. The Crown Prince stood at attention in the Grand Hall, robes pressed, eyes calm.
Only one person did not hurry to welcome the Emperor.
Shen.
He stood behind a silk screen in the corridor outside the main hall — positioned like a shadow, unseen but present, where low-level servants were always stationed.
But unlike them, he was watching everything.
The doors thundered open.
And for the first time in seventeen years… he saw his father.
Emperor Xuanlong.The Dragon Throne incarnate.Cloaked in dragon-scale robes. A tall, commanding figure whose mere presence made generals bow and ministers tremble.
Shen's jaw clenched.
This was the man who allowed his son to be thrown away.The ruler who looked at one twin and deemed the other unnecessary.
Li Ren stepped forward and knelt.
"Welcome home, Father."
The Emperor regarded him quietly. "Rise. Let me see the heir of Xuanlong."
Li Ren stood tall. Proud.
But Shen saw it.
A flicker of nervousness. A stiffness to the shoulders.
The Emperor said nothing for a long time.
Then: "Your cultivation progress?"
"Level Six Internal Meridian," Li Ren replied confidently.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Level Six was… respectable.
For a noble.
But for a Crown Prince, it was underwhelming.
The Emperor's gaze sharpened.
"Tomorrow morning," he said, "you will spar before the council. No holding back."
Li Ren nodded, but Shen noticed the way his knuckles tightened behind his back.
Later that evening, as the imperial court dispersed, Shen remained in the shadowed corridor, hands behind his back, motionless.
The Emperor passed nearby.
And for a moment — just a moment — his golden eyes flicked in Shen's direction.
He paused.
A heartbeat.
Then continued walking without a word.
But Shen felt it.
That glance.
That subtle ripple of instinct.
The Emperor's spiritual senses were too sharp to miss it completely.
"He noticed something," Shen thought. "Even if he doesn't know what."
He let out a slow breath.
Then turned and began walking toward his hidden chamber — a servant no longer pretending to be a shadow, but preparing to become something far more dangerous.
In the Empress's personal chamber, that same night…
She held an old painting in her lap.
A family scroll from seventeen years ago — never displayed.
Two babies. One swaddled in gold, the other wrapped in silver.
She stared at the child in silver.
And whispered,
"He has your eyes."