"Speak..." Lo Quen's voice was like ice.
Chai Yiq drew a deep breath, clinging to this chance like a lifeline. "Cursed plants like ghost grass cannot take root in ordinary soil.
In the valleys of the Shadow Lands, vast stretches of ghost grass grow wild. Carcosa lies nearby. My uncle, a sorcerer steeped in black magic, often sent men to harvest ghost grass there. He even tried cultivating it in Carcosa, but every attempt failed.
But one day, after purging my father's faction and leaving countless corpses rotting outside the city walls, the withered seedlings of ghost grass began to grow after drinking in the blood... Ghost grass only grows at the price of death..."
Lo Quen's pupils tightened.
Her words exploded in his mind like thunder.
In an instant, scattered clues connected.
Why did ghost grass grow only in the valleys of the Shadow Lands and the ruins of Valyria?
The Doom of Valyria—billions dead in a heartbeat. Was that flood of death not the richest soil ghost grass could ever ask for?
And what scale of death had once swept across the Shadow Lands, now thick with ghost grass?
Chai Yiq caught the shock and contemplation flickering in Lo Quen's eyes and knew her gamble had struck true. She quickly cast out a heavier card. "And your black stone, Lord..."
Lo Quen's gaze sharpened to a piercing edge. "You know of my black stone?"
Chai Yiq nodded, her voice trembling. "Because my uncle, the usurping sorcerer of Carcosa, also has one—an immense black stone almost identical to yours."
Boom.
A jolt of shock thundered through Lo Quen's chest.
An identical stone?
Impossible.
His had come from the ruins of Valyria. How could that sorcerer of Carcosa hold one as well?
"Where did his black stone come from?" Lo Quen's voice dropped low.
Chai Yiq didn't dare hold back, speaking quickly. "It is a long tale. When my father still ruled the Hidden Sea, my uncle was already obsessed with forbidden sorcery. He traveled to Asshai, learning dark arts from the Shadowbinders.
Later, he performed vile experiments on living civilians in Carcosa. My father, enraged, banished him to the Grey Waste. We all thought he perished in that desolation, but..."
Her voice quivered with pain. "A few years ago, one night, he returned. He wore a tattered yellow robe, a pale mask covering his face. And most terrifying of all—he carried with him a colossal black stone, near identical to yours. His power had become monstrous. That very night, with the vilest of black magic, he murdered my father."
Tears of hatred welled in her eyes. "After that, the demon built a vast palace beneath the Hidden Sea, consuming countless lives in its construction. He sank that black stone into its deepest waters. From then on, he spent nearly every day within that cold, lightless palace, the stone his constant companion, delving into arts that blasphemed the gods. The people of Carcosa live in constant terror..."
A storm like never before raged through Lo Quen's thoughts.
The yellow-robed sorcerer had returned from the Grey Waste, sinking his black stone beneath the sea, hiding away in the depths to study...
It all pointed to a chilling truth: that sorcerer too sought to unravel the secrets of the black stone.
And his method—submerging it in water—was wholly different from the approach Lo Quen and Janice pursued.
Was water some kind of medium? A trigger?
What secrets lay within the black stone? Where had they come from? Why were they split between two distant lands?
And what had the Yellow-robed Sorcerer gained?
Questions swarmed his mind like a hive of hornets, buzzing relentlessly, dragging his understanding of the black stone into darker depths.
Forcing his thoughts down, Lo Quen fixed his eyes on Chai Yiq and asked the final question. "Then how did you steal the ghost grass unnoticed, under the Dragon Soul Guards' watch?"
Chai Yiq seemed ready.
She raised her bound hands and struggled to pull back a ragged sleeve, revealing skin in stark contrast to her disguised face—smooth and pale as ivory.
On the inside of her slender wrist was bound a ruby, perfectly round and dark as congealed blood.
"Through magic, Lord."
Her voice was faint, almost weak. "This ruby was enchanted with great power by a Shadowbinder of Asshai. By invoking it, I briefly transformed into Lady Janice's likeness."
Her eyes flicked toward Janice, seated beside Lo Quen. "It was only through her form and aura that I slipped past the guards' senses, entered the storeroom, and took a bundle of ghost grass."
Her words explained the faint magical ripple Lo Quen had sensed in Volantis—the gem's power had been at work.
Lo Quen froze. In the original tale, Melisandre too had wielded such sorcery.
He pressed further. "And what did you need ghost grass for? To replenish magic as well?"
Chai Yiq nodded. "It's no secret in the Further East that ghost grass holds power. A little more magic helps this gem last longer..."
She finished, drawing a deep breath and focusing her mind.
The ruby on her wrist suddenly flared, spilling out an eerie crimson glow. The light rippled outward like waves, wrapping her whole body.
As it faded, it was as if a crude disguise had been stripped away. The hideous scars and sallow, roughened skin vanished like smoke.
In its place was a face so beautiful it stole the breath.
Her skin was fairer than snow, delicate as if it might break at a touch.
Her features were perfection itself, like a divine masterpiece—brows and eyes as if painted, a straight, elegant nose, lips the natural red of cherry blossoms.
But it was her eyes that shocked most of all. No longer the dull brown of her disguise, they now gleamed like the purest amethyst, carved from crystal, standing in striking contrast to the cascade of black hair that framed her face.
In that moment, she seemed less like a mortal and more like an otherworldly spirit drawn from the scrolls of an ancient age, a vision of beauty at once pure and regal.
This was the true face of Princess Chai Yiq of Carcosa.
Lo Quen's gaze lingered on those violet eyes, touched with curiosity.
Such eyes were vanishingly rare in the Further East.
Sensing his doubt, Chai Yiq spoke softly. "Lord, in the history of the Yellow Dynasty, one of its God-Emperors once wed a Dragonlord of the Valyrian Freehold. Since then, descendants with Valyrian traits have occasionally appeared in the bloodline of the Yellow Dynasty."
Lo Quen rose slowly from his throne, hands clasped behind his back. He paced before the kneeling prisoners, each step pressing hard against the taut nerves of Chai Yiq and Luo Wen.
Only the echo of his footsteps and the crackle of fire filled the hall, the air heavy with suffocating tension.
"It is a pity," Lo Quen halted, his gaze sweeping over their faces. "Even after all you have confessed, I still cannot release you."
The hearts of Chai Yiq, Luo Wen, and the others plunged into despair once more.
Lo Quen's voice was merciless. "Before you are two paths only: submit to me, or die."
"What?!"
Luo Wen could no longer restrain his fury. He struggled to rise, only to be forced back down by the Dragon Soul Guard behind him. "The princess revealed the key to cultivating ghost grass, and the earth-shaking secret of the usurper's black stone! Is that not enough to buy our freedom? How can you betray us so?"
"Betrayal?" Lo Quen's lips curved faintly. "When did I ever promise that revealing secrets would win you freedom? You know too much of mine already. Do you think me foolish enough to leave such a fatal weakness at my back?"
Chai Yiq's body trembled, her violet eyes filled with despair and unwillingness.
She looked at Luo Wen, raging helplessly beside her, then at the cold man on the high seat.
Her father's brutal death, the fall of Carcosa, the torment of her long flight, and now this—death pressing at her throat. Countless images flashed wildly in her mind.
At last, the hatred buried deep within her heart—the hatred that had carried her to this moment—overcame all shame and resentment.
Her voice rang with heartbreaking resolve as she stilled her guards' futile struggle. Her violet eyes locked on Lo Quen, as if etching him into her very soul. "I choose to submit."
"A wise choice."
Lo Quen's face showed not the slightest ripple, as though the outcome had long been decided.
He descended the stone steps and stopped before the kneeling princess.
Her tear-streaked face was still radiant, her violet eyes tangled with fear, humiliation, and a trace of defiance.
"Open your mouth." Lo Quen's voice left no room for refusal.
Shaking with fear, Chai Yiq hesitated, but obeyed, parting her lips.
Lo Quen raised his left index finger, his will flickering.
A thick, scorching drop of blood welled forth, pulsing with immense magic. Under her terrified gaze, he let that searing golden Dragonblood fall into her open mouth.
The cold, crushing force of the pact surged through her body with that single drop, striking at the very core of her soul.
Chai Yiq shuddered as if struck by lightning.
A burning torrent, primal as life itself, swept through her limbs and bones, scouring her consciousness. It was as though her soul had been cast into a furnace, branded with an eternal mark.
Deep within, on the Book of Contracts ignited in golden flame, Chai Yiq's will trembled as she signed her true name.
Buzz!
In Lo Quen's mind, the system panel flickered. The number of Flame Knights rose to three.
"Good. The contract I forged now runs deep in your soul. From this moment on, your life, your will, your very being exist only to serve me."
His gaze turned to Luo Wen and the other guards, their faces pale with despair. "As for you—for your princess's safety, I advise you to swear loyalty as well. Her life is bound to me now. Should I sense even a breath of betrayal, the Dragonblood Pact within her will show her what it truly means to beg for death."
His words crushed the last trace of resistance in their hearts.
It was as though their very spines had been torn away. With bone-deep resentment and numb resignation, Luo Wen and the others slowly lowered their heads.