Morning came, and Xin Ya woke to the sounds of Hiroshi’s men packing up camp. Jia was still asleep, her breathing slow and even, so he carefully slipped out of the carriage without waking her. At the time, it didn’t even cross his mind how inappropriate it was to have spent the night in a lady’s carriage—his only thought had been for her safety.

  Outside, the camp was alive with quiet bustle. Xin Ya scanned the scene and spotted Ge fastening a saddlebag to his horse, blending in like he’d been part of the group all along.

  “I see you’ve gotten comfortable with us,” Xin Ya said as he approached.

  Ge glanced up with a small grin.

  “Yeah, well, y’all saved me from that ditch, so I figure you’re the good guys. No reason for me to be afraid.”

  He gave his horse a reassuring pat, his movements calm and familiar. Xin Ya watched him for a moment. Ge was a simple man—rough around the edges but earnest. Hiroshi’s men had kept a careful eye on him during their brief time together, but Xin Ya had done his own quiet observing. There was no hint of deceit in Ge’s words or actions, no sign that he might be an enemy in disguise.

  “We’re glad to have you with us,” Xin Ya said at last. “You seem okay. Actually, I came to ask you for a favor.”

  “Huh?”

  “I know you’ve packed your horse already, but would you mind staying with Lady Jia Hua for some time in the carriage. I’ll switch with you halfway through the journey.” Xin Ya asked.

  “Sure, I don’t mind. Are you sure you wouldn’t want to stay with her the whole journey? Would she be okay waking up with a stranger in her carriage? Besides, I don’t think anyone would mind you staying with her, considering you are close.” Ge wondered.

  “Who said were close?” Xin Ya turned away quickly, hiding his embarrassment.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll stay with her, just go.” Ge replied, though he didn’t sound convinced.

  As much Xin Ya he wanted to keep Jia safe, sitting still beside her all day made him restless—too aware of her presence, too aware of the strange tightness in his chest when she looked at him. Besides, staying put meant he couldn’t properly keep watch on their surroundings. He’d be useless if something happened.

  The camp was packed and ready to leave. Ge went into the carriage to look after Jia, and Xin Ya joined Hiroshi to ride next to him.

  “It’s a two-day journey,” Hiroshi stated. Xin Ya nodded as the party took off.

  The road to the capital was exhausting, nothing but valley after valley. Between the western city and the capital, there were only small villages, each with fewer than a hundred people. As the Asoka clan was feared in the west, they couldn’t stay in the villages overnight, so they had to camp out again. Hiroshi didn’t protest. He was used to it, well aware of the reputation they carried.

  The fear, however, hadn’t been born from Hiroshi himself—but from his father. His father had destroyed countless towns across the northeast. A foreigner from another land, which explained the clan’s name—and Hiroshi’s as well. His father was ruthless. He had slaughtered not only soldiers but innocent people too, just to take the region for himself. Under his rule, the entire northeast had lived in fear.

  But Hiroshi wasn’t like his father.

  As a child, he had witnessed the man murder his own wife—Hiroshi’s mother—right before his eyes. She had been accused of infidelity, and without any proof, his father had killed her. It was meant to be a message: that betrayal would be met with blood, even from one’s own family.

  Hiroshi never forgot.

  He trained as his father wanted, to become a military leader—but the moment he came of age, he challenged him. They fought. Hiroshi overpowered him and took his life, along with his title. Peace returned to the northeast under his leadership. But fear doesn’t fade easily, and across the rest of the country, people still spoke the Asoka name in hushed tones.

  Years ago, while passing through a northern trade town, Hiroshi had stopped at a small roadside teahouse with only a few of his men. The place had seemed quiet, unassuming—until a middle-aged man stood up from one of the corner tables, eyes wide with disbelief. He had been a survivor from one of the villages Hiroshi’s father had destroyed.

  “You wear that name like it means nothing,” the man had spat, voice shaking with rage and grief. “I buried my entire family because of Asoka steel.”

  Hiroshi had said nothing at first. He simply stood there, letting the man shout, curse, cry. The other patrons watched in silence, waiting for blood.

  But Hiroshi had only bowed his head and replied, “I carry the same name, but not the same hands. I did not choose where I came from. But I chose who I became.”

  The man hadn’t forgiven him—not truly. But he had walked away, leaving Hiroshi with the weight of a story that was not his, yet never far from him. He was a new leader, yet he never let his bad reputation get the best of him.

  Since then, Hiroshi had done everything he could to restore peace between the clans—traveling, negotiating, offering his help to the leaders of the regions. Only Yi Yong Taishou had accepted. He welcomed him into the western lands.

  Xin Ya, being the son of the Taishou’s advisor, knew this. He had known about Hiroshi’s past from the beginning—and because of that, he never feared him.

  Ge stepped out of the carriage once they had stopped to make camp.

  “Xin Ya, she’s awake now. You might want to check on her. She was pretty confused waking up next to a stranger.”

  Xin Ya didn’t wait. He rushed over, finding Jia sitting up, sipping water with a dazed expression.

  “You’re awake. How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Like I got hit by a truck,” she muttered.

  Xin Ya blinked.

  “A what?”

  Jia blinked back, then shook her head.

  “Never mind. I’m sore… but also starving.”

  “The men are heating congee over the fire. I’ll bring you some once it’s ready,” Xin Ya said, settling down beside her. There was a quiet pause before Jia spoke again.

  “I don’t remember everything clearly, but I do remember you running to me when I was hit. Thank you.”

  “I was just doing my duty. You don’t need to thank me,” he replied quietly.

  Jia’s smile faded a little. She didn’t want to believe he was only there out of obligation.

  “But…” Xin Ya looked at her, his voice softer now, “you gave me a real scare. I thought you wouldn’t make it. If we hadn’t come across Hiroshi and his men when we escaped, I don’t think we’d be talking right now.”

  Jia nodded slowly.

  “That man—Ge—he told me what happened. Said you found him in a ditch and that the whole town just… vanished. How is that even possible?”

  “We don’t know,” Xin Ya admitted. “That’s why we’re heading to the capital to report it to the emperor. He had close ties to your father. I’m hopeful he’ll take us seriously.”

  He paused, then added with a small smile, “Ge’s a vivid storyteller, but I’ll explain everything properly once we arrive.”

  Jia gave a small nod in return.

  “I’ll go get your congee,” Xin Ya said, standing. For just a moment, his gaze lingered on her, softer than before. Then he turned and walked back toward the fire.

  Jia laid back down, staring up at the roof of the carriage. Her thoughts drifted, heavy and tangled.

  How had her life unraveled so quickly? From losing everything, to gaining a new family, only to lose it all again. It felt cruel—like she was cursed by some ill fate. A fate that refused to let her hold on to anything. One that pushed her toward solitude, over and over, as if it had already written her story.

  It almost seemed like the universe, or some divine will, was messing with her.

  She wiped at her eyes hastily when she heard footsteps approaching. Xin Ya stepped inside, carefully holding a steaming bowl of congee. He handed it to her without a word.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  She hadn’t eaten in two days. The moment the warm porridge touched her lips, it felt like the best thing she had ever tasted.

  For the first time in what felt like forever, she smiled. Xin Ya caught that smile, and without meaning to, he felt his heart stutter in his chest.

  He didn’t say anything. He simply sat beside her as the carriage rocked gently forward again, and they rode the rest of the journey in silence.

  Hiroshi rode alongside the carriage window.

  “Xin Ya, we’re approaching the capital. You should come out now,” he called and bowed modestly to the lady next to Xin Ya. “Lady Jia Hua, I know this is not the best time for introductions, but I am Hiroshi of the Asoka clan.”

  “Thank you for your help.”

  Xin Ya glanced at Jia.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said softly. “Go. We’re almost there.”

  The caravan stopped at the crest of a hill, revealing the full expanse of the capital below. From where they stood, they could see the glimmering rooftops of the city and the towering silhouette of the Emperor’s palace against the horizon.

  “So that’s what the capital looks like!” Ge exclaimed, eyes wide with wonder.

  “I would’ve thought a merchant had already seen it,” Hiroshi said, raising a brow.

  “I never bothered to come all the way here,” Ge chuckled. “The west treated me well enough.”

  “We shouldn’t linger,” Xin Ya said, his tone suddenly sharp. “Let’s get Lady Jia Hua to a proper physician.” Without waiting for a reply, he urged his horse forward.

  “I thought he wanted to investigate,” Ge said, laughing. “Now look at him, acting like the noble protector.”

  “Let him be,” Hiroshi replied calmly. “He’s been worried about her this entire time.”

  Neither of them noticed that Jia, nestled in the carriage just behind, had heard every word.

  This is foolish, she thought, clenching her fist against her chest as a dull ache spread beneath her ribs. He doesn’t care about me. He’s only doing what he was ordered to do.

  But her thoughts betrayed her. The weight in her chest wasn’t logic—it was fear. If Xin Ya left after all this, she would be truly alone again. He was the last familiar face, the last thread tying her to everything she’d lost.

  She closed her eyes.

  As they entered the outer gates of the capital, the presence of the Asoka banners immediately drew attention. Whispers turned into murmurs, then sharp words began to fly from the gathered townspeople.

  “Look who crawled in from the north...”

  “Blood-soaked bastards…”

  “Keep your children close—those beasts have arrived.”

  Some spat on the ground as Hiroshi and his men passed, their eyes filled with mistrust and fear. But Hiroshi kept his posture tall and his expression unreadable. It was nothing he hadn’t heard before.

  At the main checkpoint, a city guard stepped forward, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His gaze narrowed the moment it landed on Hiroshi.

  “You bring armed men into the capital under that banner?” he asked coldly. “State your purpose—clearly.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Hiroshi didn’t flinch.

  “We bring the daughter of Yi Yong Taishou, injured but alive, and we seek an audience with the emperor, as we have an urgent matter from the west to bring to his attention. Lady Jia Hua is in critical condition and needs immediate medical assistance.”

  “This is official business,” Xin Ya said calmly but firmly, producing a jade token from inside his robe. “I am Xin Ya, son of Yi Yong’s chief advisor Xin Yu.”

  The guard examined the seal, then bowed stiffly, though his eyes lingered warily on Hiroshi. “You may pass—but your will be watched.”

  Hiroshi offered no response. He simply rode forward.

  As the gates opened fully and they entered the city proper, Xin Ya exhaled deeply, as if releasing a weight he’d been holding for days. The sight of the capital’s familiar stone streets and steady rhythm filled him with a quiet relief.

  Ge, on the other hand, was less reserved.

  “Well,” he said, riding just behind them, “I’ve never had such a dramatic entrance. Do we get a parade next or just more death stares?”

  Xin Ya didn’t answer, but a faint smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

  As they approached the inner gates of the palace, the atmosphere grew heavier. The capital guards, more disciplined than those at the outskirts, stood firm, their eyes sharp and alert. The same wary soldier from earlier stepped forward, now flanked by two others in full armor.

  “I will alert His Majesty’s court of your arrival,” he said curtly, after accepting the token from Xin Ya. He gave a nod to a nearby runner, who disappeared beyond the golden archway.

  The guard then turned back to them. “Only the leaders and the lady are permitted to step into the palace grounds. The rest of your men must remain outside the gates.”

  Hiroshi nodded. “Understood.”

  He turned to his men. “Stay here. Await my orders—and cause no trouble.”

  Then, without hesitation, he glanced at Ge. “You’re coming with us.”

  “Me?” Ge blinked. “Didn’t he just say only leaders and the lady?”

  “You talk too much not to count as important,” Hiroshi replied flatly, already dismounting.

  “I’ll take that as a promotion,”

  As they walked through the palace gates, Ge leaned slightly toward Hiroshi and said under his breath, just loud enough for him to hear:

  “You know, for someone everyone’s terrified of, you have very decent posture.”

  Hiroshi gave him a side glance, clearly trying to decide if it was meant as sarcasm or something else entirely.

  Ge just grinned. “Don’t worry, I find mystery very dignified.”

  Meanwhile, Xin Ya approached the carriage. Inside, Jia was stirring weakly, her brows furrowing as she tried to sit up.

  “I can walk,” she muttered hoarsely, attempting to push herself upright. But Xin Ya didn’t hesitate. He climbed in, gently but firmly lifting her into his arms.

  “Let me do this,” he said, his voice low but sharp. “You’re in no condition.”

  Too exhausted to argue, Jia leaned against him, letting herself be carried.

  Through the palace gates he walked, not uttering a word. Within the palace grounds, a group of medics stood waiting near the entrance to the infirmary. Xin Ya knelt and laid her carefully onto the wooden stretcher they held between them. The moment his hands released her, the medics moved swiftly and silently, whisking her away into the inner halls. Xin Ya rose to follow, but one of the medics stepped in his path, blocking him.

  “Are you her husband?”

  Xin Ya shook his head.

  “Then you cannot come in. We do not let men enter while we treat the women. Please respect her privacy.”

  “But the physician is a man.” Xin Ya complained.

  “Are you a physician then?” Xin Ya shook his head again. “Then stay out of it.” She said and slammed the door shut.

  “Tough luck. You should have married her.” Ge said laughing. Both Xin Ya and Hiroshi gave him an angry look.

  “Okay, okay, enough with the jokes. I get it.” He shook his head.

  Within the palace walls, the surroundings were a quiet contrast to the chaos of their journey. The courtyard was wide and immaculately kept, flanked by tall lanterns and trimmed hedges. The main hall loomed ahead, its curved roof and carved eaves casting long shadows in the torchlight. Despite the grandeur, a stillness hung in the air. As they had yet to explain themselves, the air felt too welcoming, as if they had been expected.

  Before any of them could question it, footsteps echoed across the stone floor, and a tall man in a crimson robe approached with a courteous smile.

  “I am the His Highnesses advisor Wen Zhong. I have asked our kitchen to prepare dinner for you, if you’d like to follow me to the dining hall.” The man told them. “His Majesty has been informed of your arrival and will meet you at his earlies convenience.”

  He glanced at Xin Ya, who stood tensely, his eyes fixed on the doors where Jia had been taken.

  “We’ll inform you the moment her treatment is complete,” Wen Zhong added gently. “For now, please, come with me. You must be hungry after such a long journey.”

  The dining hall table was full of food. The dishes were simple, as they were prepared in a rush, but they were plentiful. None of the men hesitated; hunger overruled caution, and they dug in.

  “I have arranged a place for your men to stay, and they will be fed. These are the emperor’s orders,” he said, his tone smooth. “So, I trust I won’t need to remind you to express your gratitude properly.”

  The men nodded, their mouths full, too hungry and too tired to question the strange hospitality further.

  After dinner, the men were escorted to their sleeping quarters. Hiroshi and Ge collapsed into their beds, barely exchanging words. The silence was deep and heavy—too many thoughts to share, too much exhaustion to unpack them.

  A soft knock came at the door. One of the palace medics stepped inside and looked to Xin Ya.

  “She’s asking for you,” the woman said gently.

  Ge was already fast asleep, and Hiroshi gave Xin Ya a tired wave. “Go,” he murmured, eyes already closing. “You’ll sleep better once you’ve seen her.”

  Xin Ya followed the medic through the dimly lit hallways, his heart beating faster with every step. The stillness of the palace felt suffocating now, like it might crush him before he reached her door.

  The medic opened it slowly, revealing a warmly lit chamber. Jia sat propped up against soft cushions, her torso bound in fresh bandages. She looked pale and tired, but awake—alive.

  “She was quite anxious to look presentable,” the medic said with a small laugh, then gave Jia a teasing glance. “And he was just as anxious to see you, Lady Jia Hua.”

  Jia’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked down, her fingers curling into the blanket. Xin Ya, suddenly stiff, rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat, unsure where to put his hands or his gaze.

  “I’ll be back in the morning,” the medic said. “Someone will bring your food shortly. But don’t stay long—she needs rest.”

  Once the door shut, silence stretched between them. Xin Ya finally walked to the edge of her bed and sat down slowly.

  “Lady Jia Hua…” he began, voice rough. “What did the physician say?”

  She hesitated before answering.

  “He said my wounds are healing well. I need to rest for a few weeks, but I should start walking again soon—just a little each day.” Her voice faltered. “He said… I was lucky. That I got help just in time.”

  Xin Ya swallowed hard, lowering his gaze. He didn’t know how to say he’d feared the worst. That the sight of her unconscious in his arms had made his chest feel like it might split apart.

  “I owe you my life,” she said, barely above a whisper. “But I…” She trailed off, unsure how to finish. She looked at him knowing she had him to thank for being alive, but she found it hard to say the words.

  “The medic,” she continued, “said my body had an unusual reaction. Something about my pulse being… something. I can’t even remember. Something about a spirit.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I have no idea.” She exhaled.

  They sat in silence, the weight of her words lingering between them.

  After a long pause, Xin Ya slowly reached out, his hand hovering before gently brushing her hair back. But he caught himself. His fingers froze, then retreated, clenched into a quiet fist.

  He stood.

  “You should rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He turned to leave.

  “Xin Ya!” she called out suddenly.

  He stopped in the doorway.

  “Call me Jia. Just Jia.”

  He smiled at her, the softness reaching his eyes for the first time in days.

  “Okay, Lady Jia,” he said playfully, and slipped out the door before she could protest again.

  She let out a frustrated groan and buried her face in her hands.

  “That’s not what I meant…”

  Morning came with a knock on the door. Advisor Wen Zhong stepped inside with a blank expression.

  “Please dress. The emperor will see you after breakfast.”

  The men glanced at each other and obeyed. Still exhausted they followed the man; they understood the importance of the meeting ahead. The air was thick with anticipation. To their surprise, Jia was waiting for them in the dining hall.

  “Jia!” Ge rushed to her side almost knocking down a chair “Are you okay?” He had worried and seeing her gave him a sense of relief.

  “I’m much better, thank you Ge”.

  “Ge, you need to use honorifics when talking to her.” Hiroshi frowned.

  “Please, Hiroshi” Jia stepped in. “I’ve told him he doesn’t need to. The same goes for you—just call me Jia."

  Xin Ya was uncomfortable with the others using casual language with her, it was unsettling. He bit his cheek to keep him from saying anything, seeing her well was enough for now. He watched carefully the woman, who just two days prior, had been on the brink of death. Xin Ya saw the grief in Jia, which she tried to keep to herself. He wanted to say something, anything, but he looked away with the words caught in his throat.

  After breakfast advisor Wen Zhong came to take them to meet the emperor.

  “You must treat His Highness with utmost respect. Do not speak, unless spoken to. You will always address him as ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Son of Heaven”. Lower your gaze unless you’re told otherwise, and when you’re leaving the room, you will walk backwards while bowing, and you will not show your back to him. Restrict your emotions and conduct yourself with dignity.” He spoke.

  Hiroshi noticed Ge’s mouth opening, knowing he would say something stupid, and shut his mouth with his hand, before he could ridicule them. Ge gasped for air. Wen Zhong noticed and raised his voice.

  “Fail to observe this etiquette and there will be consequences, as the emperor sees fit. Am I clear?”

  They all nodded, but Ge finally was made aware of how out of place he was. He glanced at his friends, who’s expressions remained composed, and he felt a twist in his stomach.

  One wrong move and I’ll be served as dog food, he thought.

  They walked with purpose toward the emperor’s quarters. Jia still struggled to move, so Ge quicky offered his arm for support; while acknowledging his status wouldn’t allow him to do so. Jia however appreciated Ge’s gesture. He was the only one who had treated Jia just as a normal person since the beginning, despite her status. Thus, they were both ignoring the formality and walked in silence. Upon entering the quarters, Wen Zhong, acknowledging Jia’s condition, signaled a servant to bring her a chair.

  “As per His Majesty’s request, I will leave the room” Wen Zhong said as he turned away.

  The emperor’s room was grand, and the incense burning smelled rich, not the kind Jia was used to, even if she was a nobility. The room was decorated with gold and crimson colors, jade and porcelain ornaments were seen in every corner of the room, like carvings and vases. The walls were covered with calligraphy scrolls and paintings of landscapes, showing the northern mountains. Jia recognized Confucian sayings in some of the scrolls, as she had studied them in school. The ceiling which, for a moment, took Jia’s complete attention, was decorated by a painting of a large dragon.

  The men prepared to receive the emperor by performing a deep bow, while they were kneeling on the floor their hands cupped. Once they saw the emperor enter the room from behind the curtain in front of them, the men performed a deep bow by touching their forehead on the floor, to show their respect. As Jia was unable to move, she performed a modest bow.

  “At ease” the emperor stated.

  Jia lifted her head to see the man behind the voice. She was mesmerized as he was one of the most beautiful men, most likely the most beautiful one, she had ever encountered. His beauty was almost unreal, like a celestial being walking among mortals. He possessed an aristocratic grace, his features sculpted like a masterpiece, high cheekbones and a strong jawline. His eyes had a depth that she could have sunk into. His silver hair, much like that of Jia and her late mother, fell in waves past his shoulders down his aquamarine silk robe. It framed his beauty, which was neither delicate nor soft, but a balance of elegance and dominance befitting a celestial being.

  Jia was in awe of the beautiful aristocrat in front of her, and the emperor took notice. Quickly, she looked down, embarrassed—Wen Zhong had warned them not to stare directly at the emperor.

  “You do not have to look away,” the emperor said gently. “You, if anyone, have the right to face me as the human I am.”

  Jia hesitated before slowly lifting her gaze. His words stirred something inside her. Why would he say that to her?

  “Your Majesty… I don’t understand,” she murmured.

  The three men, who had now stood up, glanced at each other, confused by the turn in the conversation.

  “Lady Jia Hua, daughter of Hua Lian,” the emperor began, his voice steady but unusually personal. “I see your confusion. I know not only your name, but that of your mother.”

  Jia’s hearth felt heavy as none of this was making sense to her.

  “You know my mother?”

  “I do. We have been… connected since the day I was born.”

  Jia stared at him. The emperor looked barely thirty. And yet his words carried the weight of something ancient.

  Before she could speak, Hiroshi stepped forward, as if to shift the conversation back to its purpose.

  “Your Majesty, we’ve come to report news from Yu Yan,” he began, his tone firm but respectful.

  The emperor’s eyes sharpened at Hiroshi's voice—he recognized him. His brow furrowed, but he gave a small nod, allowing him to continue.

  “Yu Yan was attacked, Your Majesty. We don’t know who the enemy was, but…” Hiroshi hesitated, glancing at Jia before continuing. “The entire population of the city has disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?” The emperor leaned forward in disbelief.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Xin Ya confirmed. “With Lady Jia Hua, we were able to flee before the worst happened. But the people—everyone—vanished without a trace. We were attacked by armed soldiers who—” He stopped, the words caught in his throat.

  “They killed my mother,” Jia said, her voice quiet but unwavering.

  The emperor stood abruptly, shock passing through him.

  “Who would…?”

  “We do not know, and that’s why we are here to ask for your assistance.” Xin Ya explained “How is it possible, that a population of a city disappeared at a blink of an eye, without a single trace?”

  The emperor didn’t answer right away. He exhaled slowly, walking a few steps away before turning back.

  “There is one possibility,” he said finally. “But I never believed it possible on such a scale…” He looked directly at Jia, his expression softening. “Lady Jia Hua… your mother never told you of her origins, did she?”

  Jia shook her head slowly.

  “No. She never spoke of her past.”

  “I suspected as much.” He paused. “Your mother was part of the Hua Shan people—a hidden sect that has remained apart from this world for generations. They are rarely seen but known for their fair skin and silver hair.”

  The men glanced at Jia, then at the emperor, and back again.

  “You may have guessed,” he added, touching a strand of his own pale hair. “I am also of Hua Shan descent. My lineage comes from a branch that separated. But Lady Hua Lian was born among them. Naturally you, Lady Jia Hua, are also one of the Hua Shan people.”

  “That can’t be right. I was adopted just a few years ago, she’s not my real mother!” Jia was getting agitated.

  “That is a lie,” the emperor said gently. “One I believe she maintained to protect you. But the blood that runs through you is hers. You are her child—by birth.”

  Jia’s mind spun. She couldn’t make sense of it. All her life, she’d lived believing she was unwanted, saved by chance.

  “As the Hua Shan people, we have been blessed with a power.” He continued looking at Jia’s pale face listening to, what she thought was, nonsense. If she had any powers she would know.

  “But if that’s true, why don’t I have these powers you speak of?” she finally dared to ask.

  The emperor gave a sad smile and stepped closer.

  “You may not have awakened them yet. But they are there. The Hua Shan people are gifted with the power to create portals—to bend space and time.”

  The emperor came closer to them, lifted his hand, from which with his other hand maifested a figure of light. The figure started slowly turning into a mirror showing a familiar place.

  Jia gasped.

  “That’s… my home.”

  The image cracked and faded after a few seconds, like breaking glass. Silence fell. The emperor lowered his hands, breathing slightly heavier.

  “Only those with strong bloodlines can wield this power freely. That is how I suspect your people were taken. I believe someone used that power to remove Yu Yan’s people—perhaps someone from Hua Shan itself.” He begun. “My father, was from a side branch of the sect. Thus power, as a descendant of a lesser line, is limited to places I have seen. But yours, Jia Hua… may not be.”

  Jia looked at him, her voice trembling. “So who am I, really?”

  “I cannot answer that in full,” the emperor admitted. “But I can tell you where to begin. Where you might find the truth—and your people.”

  He reached into a drawer and withdrew a scroll, handing it to Hiroshi.

  “This contains what little I know about the Hua Shan’s last known location. They live deep within the mountain that bears their name. But no outsider has found their true home. Only Hua Lian and my father ever left it.”

  Jia looked at the men accompanying her. She couldn’t possibly ask them to take her to Hua Shan Mountain, they owed her nothing. Jia clutched the edges of her sleeves. Could she really ask these men to risk their lives for her?

  “Your Majesty,” Ge spoke suddenly. “Do you mind if we stayed here while Jia recovered? Then we’ll be out of your hair.”

  Xin Ya and Hiroshi glared at him for his informality, but the emperor chuckled.

  “Of course. You are welcome to stay. And when the time comes, I will assign my men to accompany you to the mountain—if you still wish to go.” He looked at the three men.

  “Your Majesty, I swore to my father, that I would protect Lady Jia Hua with my life. I will accompany her to wherever she wishes to go.” Xin Ya stated.

  Hiroshi put his hand on Xin Ya’s shoulder.

  “You won’t last a day without me, so count me in” he smiled.

  Ge grinned. “I guess it’s settled. We’re going on an adventure.”

  Jia stared at them, deeply moved.

  As the emperor turned to leave, she called out, “Your Majesty… may I ask your name?”

  He paused, then turned back with a small smile.

  “My name is Xue.”