So, there we were. Standing right in front of the colossal main gates of the Imperial Palace.
If I thought the border town checkpoint was intimidating, this place was on an entirely different level of structural hostility.
The walls rose up so high they practically scraped the heavens, made of some polished white stone that looked like it could deflect a literal meteor.
Standing guard on either side of the towering entrance were two cultivators.
And let me tell you, these guys weren't your run-of-the-mill, leather-vest-wearing mall cops from the Tang Family.
These men stood like iron pillars, their posture absolutely stoic, radiating a faint, undulating aura of spiritual energy that made the very air around them vibrate.
They looked like they hadn't blinked since the previous dynasty.
Xiaofan stopped, her eyes narrowing as she locked her gaze onto the two guards.
I, naturally, tried to project the energy of a deeply profound, totally relaxed master while internally calculating my chances of surviving a sprint back to the woods if things went south.
We took exactly one collective step forward, attempting to casually breeze past them.
*Schwing!*
The sound of cold steel slicing through the air echoed simultaneously.
Before my brain could even register the movement, two incredibly sharp, aggressively intimidating swords were pointing directly at our throats.
The blades were so close I could feel the icy, metallic hum of their inner Qi biting into the peach fuzz on my neck.
"Move any further," the guard on the right said, his voice entirely devoid of human emotion, "and both of you will die."
I immediately froze, lifting my chin slightly so I wouldn't accidentally decapitate myself on the tip of his blade.
My survival instinct was screaming at me to drop to my knees and offer them some Golden Sun-Drop Fruits in exchange for our lives.
Xiaofan, however, didn't even flinch. She looked at the guards with a calm, calculating gaze that belonged on a seasoned war general, not a fourteen-year-old girl in a peasant braid.
"I have the token of the Crown Prince," she announced clearly, her voice echoing off the stone walls.
"I need to see him."
The reaction was instantaneous. The two guards shared a synchronized look of absolute, unadulterated shock—an expression I honestly thought their stoic, botox-adjacent facial muscles were physically incapable of producing.
Their eyebrows shot straight into their helmets.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, they pulled back their swords, though their eyes remained narrowed, thoroughly examining us to see if we were just two suicidal lunatics playing a very stupid prank.
"Show us the token," the guard on the left demanded, his grip tightening on his hilt.
Xiaofan reached into the hidden folds of her cheap, rough-spun sleeve. With a fluid, dramatic motion, she revealed a token.
My eyes practically popped out of my head. It was a thick, coin-like medallion carved entirely out of flawless violet jade.
Even a total cultivation novice like me could tell this thing was worth more than a small province.
Deep within the translucent purple stone, an intricate, terrifyingly detailed dragon was engraved, its eyes seeming to pulse with a faint, regal light.
The two guards stared at the violet jade piece, then looked at each other, their silent mental conversation screaming *'Is this real life?'*
The guard on the left suddenly reached out and snatched the token right out of Xiaofan's hand.
The two of them huddled together, examining it thoroughly.
They turned it over, rubbed the edges, injected a tiny thread of Qi into the carving, and practically sniffed it to ensure authenticity.
They couldn't believe their eyes.
How on earth could the token of the legendary, fearless, cold, and utterly dangerous Crown Prince fall into the hands of these two literal beggars?
=====°°°°°
The Aesthetic Disconnect
Yes, you read that correctly. A beggar.
Despite the fact that my transmigrated face was a bishōnen masterpiece—a visage of high-definition, country-destroying beauty with midnight-blue hair and eyes that could make a hardened warlord weep—the reality of our wardrobe was an absolute disaster.
We were wearing the absolute cheapest, lowest-grade, scratchy brown cotton from a clearance rack in a border town.
We were dusty, our shoes were practically held together by prayers, and we clearly looked like we had just crawled out of the poorest slum in the entire Yang Kingdom.
To the guards, I didn't look like a legendary cultivator; I looked like an incredibly pretty peasant who had fallen into a dumpster and somehow survived.
Finally, after realizing the token was one hundred percent authentic, the left guard carefully handed it back to Xiaofan, his attitude shifting from murderous intent to profound, deeply confused compliance.
"It is indeed the personal token of His Imperial Highness, the Crown Prince," the guard announced, clearing his throat to regain his dignity.
"You may enter the palace."
With a heavy, groaning grind of ancient gears, the massive wooden gates began to swing inward.
Xiaofan and I wasted no time, stepping through the threshold and into the courtyard. The moment our heels cleared the frame, the giant gates slammed shut behind us with a deafening *BOOM*, sealing us inside the belly of the beast.
"Well," I muttered, adjusting my high ponytail.
"We're in. No turning back now. Hopefully, the Crown Prince doesn't execute people for bad fashion choices."
=====°°°°°
The Unintended Flex
The moment we advanced past the inner entryway, the entire atmosphere changed. The air didn't just feel heavy; it felt thick, like we had suddenly walked straight into a swimming pool filled with invisible, pressurized molasses.
It was a defensive spiritual array—a heavy, crushing gravity force designed to suppress intruders and test the cultivation foundation of anyone walking through the palace grounds.
Xiaofan instantly stiffened.
Her knees buckled slightly, her breath turning into a sharp, ragged gasp. Within seconds, she was completely bathing in her own sweat, her small frame trembling under the immense, invisible weight.
Every single step she took looked like she was trying to drag a boulder up a mountain.
I, on the other hand... felt absolutely nothing.
I walked forward a few steps, completely oblivious to the spiritual pressure flattening the environment around us. To me, it was just a lovely, slightly warm afternoon.
My joints felt fine, my breathing was completely normal, and I was casually admiring the fancy gold trim on the palace pillars.
I looked down beside me and noticed that the little girl was practically crawling.
"Xiaofan?" I asked out of genuine, naive curiosity, tilting my head.
"Are you okay? Why are you walking like that? Did you twist your ankle on the cobblestones or something?"
Xiaofan froze. She slowly lifted her head, her face pale, sweat dripping from her chin.
She stared up at me like I was some kind of terrifying, ancient cosmic monster masquerading as a human.
Her eyes grew incredibly big, practically popping out of her skull due to sheer, unadulterated shock.
"W-why..." she stammered, her teeth literally chattering from the strain of the pressure, "w-why do you... not feel the force?!"
"Force? What force?" I blinked, looking around the empty air.
"Is there a draft?"
*Wait.* My internal monologue kicked in.
*Oh. Oh, right.*
The System. Even though that glorified toaster was currently offline for "emergency maintenance," its passive background settings were clearly still running in the matrix.
My cheat-code privileges were apparently shielding my fragile, non-cultivator body from being crushed into a pancake by the palace security system.
Realizing I had just accidentally exposed myself as a freak of nature, I let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of my head while offering her a deeply awkward, completely unconvincing smile.
"Ah, well... you know... I guess I just have really good stamina? Drink a lot of water. It's all about the hydration, Xiaofan."
Xiaofan didn't buy the hydration excuse for a single second. As she stared at me easily standing upright—completely unaffected by a suppression array that could bring a Core Formation master to their knees—her mind went into overdrive.
*Gege is incredible!* she thought, her internal monologue filling with a newfound, terrifying reverence.
*He doesn't have a single drop of sweat on him! He's not even channeling Qi! He must be a supreme, legendary expert who is hiding his true world-defying ability behind this weak, commoner appearance! He's a hidden master!*
Poor little girl. She was completely, utterly deceived by the sheer passive prowess of a broken System program. I wasn't a hidden master; I was a glorified civilian with a permanent cheat-code buff.
=====°°°°°
The Piggyback Protocol
"Alright, enough of this," I sighed, seeing that she was about to faceplant into the imperial marble.
"You're going to pass out before we even find a hallway."
Without waiting for her permission, I stepped in front of her, turned my back, and dropped into a low squat.
"Get on. I'll carry you."
"W-What?!" Xiaofan's voice squeaked, her pale face suddenly flaring with a bright, vibrant crimson blush.
"No! Gege, put me down! I am a trained operative! I can walk! This is undignified for a servant of the—"
"Xiaofan, you are currently moving at the speed of a dying snail and sweating like a pig at a barbecue," I interrupted flatly, reaching back, grabbing her legs, and hoisting her up onto my back with a firm tug.
"Just hold on. Your protests are noted, but ultimately denied by the management."
She kicked her legs weakly and grumbled, but given her complete lack of energy under the crushing pressure, she couldn't win against my System-boosted strength.
Ultimately, she defeatedly wrapped her small arms around my neck, burying her burning, embarrassed face directly into my shoulder.
She was blushing so intensely I could practically feel the heat radiating off her cheeks.
"You are incredibly annoying, Gege," she mumbled into my tunic.
"I know. It's part of my charm," I replied cheerfully, adjusting her weight and continuing my casual, breezy stroll down the grand imperial walkway.
=====°°°°°
The Prince Watchful Eyes
As I happily strolled through the courtyard with a heavily blushing spy child strapped to my back, completely ignoring the world-ending gravity field, I was entirely unaware that we were being watched.
High above the courtyard, standing on a grand, sweeping balcony adorned with silk banners, a figure looked down at us.
It was the Crown Prince himself.
He stood with his hands tucked behind his back, draped in magnificent robes of dark violet and embroidered gold.
His aura was cold, sharp, and notoriously dangerous—the kind of man who could order an execution with a blink of his eyes.
But right now, as he watched a scrawny, impossibly beautiful boy in cheap commoner clothes casually piggyback a little girl through his high-level suppression array without breaking a single drop of sweat, a look of profound interest washed over his usually frozen features.
He tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes locking onto my bouncing midnight-blue ponytail.
If anyone else from the imperial court had been standing there, they would have dropped dead of shock. Because there, on the lips of the notoriously ruthless, cold-hearted Crown Prince... a small, intrigued, and distinctly amused smile was slowly forming.
"Well," the prince murmured softly to the empty balcony, his voice smooth like dark silk.
"What an interesting little bluebird has wandered into my cage."