Chapter One — The Dream

. • 谢亦威 (Wang Yi Xuan)

, the only son of Clan Head Wang Tianrong (谢氏族主), was born into both honor and fear. His father, a man respected by all and dreaded by many, ruled Clan Wang with unyielding authority. His mother, Xie RuYue, was forced into marriage with Tianrong before he rose to the position of clan leader.

•Tianrong had been captivated by her beauty, but for RuYue, marriage at the tender age of eighteen stole away her youth and freedom. Happiness was a luxury she was never granted—until the birth of her son. When Wang Yi Xuan came into the world, she felt as though she had finally given birth to her own joy.

•Called “Yi Xuan”, or sometimes “A xuan ” or “Young Master Wang”, the boy grew up cheerful and bright. He laughed easily, spoke too much, and carried a playful energy that lit up the palace halls—especially when he was with his mother.

•But where his mother gave him warmth, his father demanded discipline. Tianrong sought to mold Wang Yi Xuan into a worthy young master: brave, sharp, skilled in cultivation, swordplay, and leadership. For RuYue, however, none of that mattered. What she wanted most was for her son to be happy. She longed for him to have the freedom and joy she was denied.

•For Wang Yi Xuan, his mother became everything: his comfort, his understanding, and his truest love. To him, she was the one person who could see and protect his happiness in a world that otherwise demanded so much from him.

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The palace had never been a home.

From the day he was old enough to understand, Yi Xuan knew his parents’ marriage was nothing more than chains.

At fifteen, Yi Xuan had already seen more than any child should. He had heard his mother’s cries echo through the night, muffled by the heavy walls of her chambers. He had seen the bruises that she tried to hide beneath her sleeves.

Each time, his hands trembled with anger, but he was powerless. He was just a boy. Against the Emperor, what could he do?

When he turned twenty one, his father sent him away to the Azure Cloud Sect, claiming that a prince should learn cultivation. Yi Xuan had not protested. For him, it was a chance to escape the suffocating palace walls.

His only sorrow was leaving his mother behind.

The letters she sent were his comfort. Every week, her familiar handwriting arrived, filled with gentle words: reminders to eat well, to take care of himself, and to never lose heart. For five months, those letters never failed to reach him.

Until one day, they stopped.

That night, exhaustion dragged him into sleep. But in his dreams, the world was darker than any night sky. His mother stood before him, her robes torn, her face pale. Her trembling hands reached for him, her voice breaking with desperation.

“Help me… my son…”

Yi Xuan’s eyes snapped open. His body was drenched in sweat, his breath uneven. The echo of her voice still rang in his ears.

A sharp knock came at the door.

Before he could rise, his master stepped inside, carrying a lantern. The man’s usually calm face was tense, his voice low.

“Your father’s men are here. You must return to the palace at once.”

Yi Xuan blinked in confusion. “At this hour? Why?”

His master hesitated, then said heavily, “The Emperor’s letter says it is… about your mother.”

The words struck Yi Xuan like a blade. His heart pounded in his chest, dread clawing up his throat.

Without another word, he threw on his robes, fastened his sword to his back, and followed the soldiers waiting outside. The night wind was bitter, but the chill that gripped his heart was far colder.

Something had happened. He could feel it.

And he was already too late.

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