Inside the Main Palace, the air carried the steady hum of conversation.
Ministers sat in their designated places, papers spread across the long table as they discussed matters of governance. At the head of it all, a man sat draped in royal robes, his posture relaxed—almost uninterested.
A minister cleared his throat. "The trade routes in the southern province have seen an increase in bandit activity. If not controlled, it may affect—"
"Bandits?" another minister scoffed, adjusting his sleeves. "With all due respect, the southern governor is more than capable of handling mere outlaws. Must we truly waste court time discussing such trivial matters?"
A third minister, older and with a more measured tone, interjected, "Trivial? If the flow of goods is disrupted, it will strain the capital’s supplies. The merchants are already demanding—"
"They always demand," the second minister interrupted with a smirk. "Tax cuts, reduced tariffs—crying about losses while still weighing their pockets with gold."
The first minister sighed. "His Majesty has yet to give his thoughts."
All eyes turned to the man at the head of the hall.
He had been silent, fingers idly tapping the armrest, his gaze distant.
tap tap
A moment passed.
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Another.
Then, with lazy amusement, he finally spoke.
"…You argue like fishmongers."
The casual remark sent a ripple of tension through the ministers.
A younger official shifted nervously. "Your Majesty, we merely—"
"Trade will continue," the man said, cutting him off. His voice was calm, yet there was a weight beneath it. "And the governor will handle it. If he fails, replace him."
The second minister, ever opportunistic, bowed his head slightly. "As expected of His Majesty. A wise decision—"
’!?!’
But before he could continue, the air shifted around the whole Main Palace, sourced from the direction of the Northern Palace.
A subtle but undeniable surge of internal energy filled the air.
A weight pressed into the room, halting all conversation.
The ministers glanced at one another, uneasy.
They did not have the senses to understand what had changed exactly—but they knew enough to feel the enormous energy emitting from Princess Aleriana’s palace, something belonging to either a strong artifact or an elder coming out of seclusion.
tap....
And at that moment—the man’s fingers stopped tapping.
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His gaze, sharp and knowing, turned away from the ministers. Away from the table.
His attention was elsewhere.
Straight toward the Princess’s palace, waiting for a moment as his eyes directly penetrated through the walls, passing through all obstacles, directly landing on the source of this power.
’Hah? Your mother must be proud of you, child,’ With a smile curling on his nonchalant expression, he took the ministers by shock as they saw the man supporting his chin with a warm smile—something unexpected from him.
----
Inside the Empress Dowager’s Palace
Corridors—A Woman in a Red Veil
Soft footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridor, each step deliberate, unrushed. The woman in the red veil walked with an air of quiet authority, her long sleeves gliding over polished marble floors.
Then—she stopped.
’!?’
Her breath hitched.
The faintest tremor ran through her fingers before she quickly steadied herself.
"…This energy."
Nista’s voice was barely a whisper, but the weight in it was undeniable. Beneath the veil, her lips pressed into a thin line.
A presence.
No—an eruption.
A surge of power, raw and uncontrolled, tearing through the air from that direction.
The Princess’s palace.
Slowly, her veiled face turned toward it, unreadable—but sharp.
Above, another woman with the same appearance, fully covered in a red veil, was on the roof.
Unlike Nista, her older sister, Prista did not stop to think.
Perched on the palace roof, her raven hair gleamed under the pale light, and her keen gaze was locked onto the far distance, as if she could clearly sense the birth of a new 7th-layer powerhouse in the capital city.
She felt it the instant it happened.
And in the next breath—she moved.
No hesitation. No doubt.
Her figure blurred, disappearing in an instant, hurtling toward the source like a streak of silver lightning.
Deep within the palace—a hum with a woman seated in a red veil, covered in red translucent curtains while closely in a lotus position.
Within the deepest chamber of the Empress Dowager’s palace, heavy silk curtains swayed ever so slightly.
The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and incense.
Seated in silence, veiled in layers of fabric and darkness, her eyes snapped open.
And then—she smiled.
A slow, knowing curve of her lips, untouched by surprise.
"…So," she murmured, her voice smooth and amused, "your daughter, too, shows the same potential as you, huh?"
Then, just as effortlessly, she closed her eyes once more—as if she had known all along that this day would eventually come.
---
At the Border of the Capital.
The scent of fresh blooms drifted through the air, mingling with the crisp breeze of the late afternoon. The small flower shop sat quietly at the city’s edge, its wooden frame worn by time but still standing firm.
Inside, an old woman moved with practiced ease, her wrinkled hands gently arranging a bundle of white lilies.
She worked in silence, her breathing slow, steady—until suddenly, her fingers paused.
The delicate petals in her grasp trembled, reacting to the shift in the air as her lips curled into a smile.
Her gaze lifted, eyes narrowing slightly as they turned toward the distant heart of the capital.
There it was.
An immense, raw force, that even from here, she could feel that it was the birth of another few dozen individuals having the potential to reach true immortal layers—above the 7th layer.
She exhaled softly, her old hands placing the lilies down with care.
A moment of stillness.
Then, with quiet certainty, she murmured—
"It appears…I will have to meet you, Princess Aleriana, for further discussion."
.
.
.
.
.
Within the Northern Palace of the capital city,
"T-tell me.... H-how did the princess achieve this?" Olea stood with her gaze turned toward the man who could only provide an answer about how the princess was able to achieve such an immense amount of energy, given that right now she was in a focused state; she could not ask her directly.
His presence here at the time when the princess suddenly ascended, skipping peak 6th layer from her middle layer and reaching Early 7th layer, could not be just a mere coincidence.
So, there was something he definitely knew.
"It’s the power of love," Kyle shrugged his shoulders, adopting a light demeanor in response to Olea—her hand was on the sword hilt, the blade glinting and her amethyst eyes glowing sharply. The hint of purple crystal formation showed that she was emotionally unstable now.
Kyle definitely understood the reasons behind Olea wanting to take revenge on the Arcturus family; she had given her best even with a physique or bloodline weaker than Princess Aleriana.
At around the age of 23-24, she had already reached Early 6th level—something that seemed impossible to achieve merely through unshakable dedication or hard work.
To understand just how difficult it was to reach this power level, there were only one or two individuals in the 8th layer in the Azure Flame Kingdom, with just a handful in the 7th layer—highlighting its rarity.
Up to the 3rd layer, it takes 200 years for each sub-level, and then up to the 6th, it’s 400 years for each sub-level.
For an average-grade bloodline, they would hardly receive seven days’ worth of Qi if they relied solely on the naturally occurring internal energy in the atmosphere and cultivated all day.
But for such a young age to achieve it—Olea had literally cultivated 280 days of cultivation per day since the age of 5—something that hard work alone could never achieve.
This is where their major character tags came into play, allowing them complete access to resources—excluding their godly physique or bloodline, which multiplies their growth by 100—both the princess and individuals like Olea.
They had resources like elixirs, pills, herbs, artifacts, and whatnot to increase their overall cultivation years.
Yet, no matter what, even at maximum potential, age mattered; it took time to accumulate such large numbers of cultivation years.
"Wh-what nonsense—" Olea was about to dismiss this ’power of love’ idea, knowing he was likely making another random joke, but she was interrupted as suddenly a flicker of energy arrived within the training arena, belonging to a red-veiled woman who in a cold tone announced.
"Power of love? Stop being ridiculous, Kyle Arcturus."
’!’