From Zhuge Su Lan's Perspective
Su Lan watched her brother closely, her eyes cold and analytical — the gaze of someone used to deciphering secrets, and yet unable to fully understand what she saw.
Zhuge Su Yeon had always been, in her view, the most carefree of the siblings.
Gentle, calm, polite… and infuriatingly serene.
The kind of person who seemed not to carry the weight of an empire on his shoulders — though, deep down, she knew he carried it better than anyone else.
For years, she had grown accustomed to that quiet, distant façade — the slow gestures, the measured words, and that half-smile that could mean everything… or absolutely nothing.
But today, as she looked at him seated among the six young sisters, the cold light of the hall gleaming along the silver edges of his white robes, Su Lan found herself unable to recognize him completely.
She had long known that neither Yeon nor their father were simple men.
Both were mirrors — showing others only what they wished them to see, hiding the rest within the shadow of their own reflection.
As the daughter of one of the emperor's closest wives, Su Lan had learned early to identify patterns.
The distracted gaze of her brother didn't fool her.
The way he pretended to be lazy, to act disinterested in administrative affairs, to seem detached from the decisions shaping the island's fate — it was all an act.
She understood that now.
Perhaps she had always understood it, but chose to pretend otherwise.
In the end, Yeon's lie — the façade of calm and detachment he maintained — was the same one their father had worn all his life.
And just like their father's, it was a necessary lie.
An emperor could not be transparent.
A Zhuge could never be predictable.
And so, Su Lan forgave him.
She forgave the deliberate laziness, the ironic smile whenever she brought him piles of documents, and even the infuriating habit of delegating everything "for the sake of your administrative experience, sister."
In truth, she even liked it.
She liked feeling useful — keeping the empire's gears turning while he remained locked in his silent contemplation.
But something new had begun to stir within her — something she had not felt in a long time.
Curiosity.
Because the man before her no longer seemed to be the same sleepy brother who drove the ministers to despair with his apathy.
He seemed… dangerous.
And at the same time, fascinating.
Seeing Yeon reach the Golden Core stage hadn't surprised her.
It had felt like the natural step for someone who bore their father's blood — and even more, the composure of someone who always knew exactly when to advance and when to retreat.
What truly unsettled her was what came afterward.
Su Yeon hadn't simply achieved the Golden Core — he had done it in silence, without celebration, without ceremony.
And now, he was distributing treasures with the same ease with which he dispensed cryptic advice.
Su Lan's gaze followed the objects that emerged from her brother's spatial ring — ancient-forged swords, refined spears infused with elemental essence, elixirs of rare purity, pendants sealed with spiritual energy, and even perfect-grade spiritual weapons.
Weapons that not even the central armory of the clan possessed in such number.
She blinked, unable to believe it.
Where had he gotten all that?
Yeon almost never left the imperial castle.
He didn't visit markets, didn't meet outsiders, and avoided the great trade gatherings among neighboring clans.
And yet, he seemed to own a personal treasury capable of equipping an entire sect.
For a moment, Su Lan wanted to ask.
But she held back.
It would be useless.
He would only smile — that calm, half-lidded smile — and reply with something like:
"The world is vast, sister. Good things always find their way back."
And she hated him for that.
For always escaping questions with beautiful words.
Still, one thing comforted her: he was attentive.
Far more than she had ever imagined.
When he handed her that list of names that morning, Su Lan had been genuinely surprised.
She hadn't expected him to know the sisters so well — their ages, their personalities, and, most astonishingly, their talents.
He had chosen six names with surgical precision, as if he had been studying them for years.
And now, seeing them aligned before the throne, she understood.
Those girls were the living reflection of what the Zhuge blood could produce at its best — and Yeon had gathered them here on purpose.
Even she, who oversaw the administration of each palace and monitored the progress of every maternal branch, didn't know the girls as well as he did.
Some she barely even remembered seeing.
And yet, Yeon knew exactly who they were.
Su Lan glanced again at her brother, surrounded by the six young women, and sighed quietly.
Yes.
He was far more aware than he let on.
And for the first time, she had the distinct feeling that the man before her — the "lazy emperor" — might be orchestrating something much greater than any of them could comprehend.
Still… Su Lan did not worry.
The thought came naturally, almost as an instinct — the reflex of someone who had carried the weight of their surname for far too long.
She was a Zhuge — and as such, she would support her brother, no matter what he was planning.
After all, that was exactly what she had done for their father.
She had stood by the old emperor even when his actions seemed completely irrational — marrying endlessly, forming baffling alliances, disappearing for weeks under the excuse of "strategic cultivation."
Su Lan had learned early that the men of the Zhuge lineage always hid more than they revealed… and that, in the end, all their secrets somehow served the family's good.
So, if Yeon now walked that same calm, enigmatic path, she saw no reason to doubt him.
Even if others failed to understand his actions, she would.
Just as she had understood their father.
But that didn't quiet the curiosity slowly growing inside her.
Su Lan's gaze returned to her brother — so serene, so composed, as if the destiny of the empire fit neatly within the palm of his hand and still wasn't enough to trouble him.
He spoke to the girls, explaining the purpose of each artifact and pill, every word measured, every gesture balanced — like a strategist placing pieces on an invisible board.
And as she watched him, Su Lan wondered:
How far will this go?
What exactly did Zhuge Su Yeon see beyond the apparent calm of the island?
What was the true reach of his plans?
She imagined countless possibilities — the strengthening of the bloodline, the expansion of spiritual influence, perhaps even the creation of a new military order — but none of them seemed sufficient to justify that distant look in his eyes… that quiet gleam suggesting he saw something far beyond what any of them could perceive.
The cold of the throne hall brushed against her skin, making her hold her breath for a moment.
The six young women before the throne received their gifts with reverence, the spiritual light of their weapons reflecting across their faces, and Su Lan realized what Yeon had created there: a new foundation.
She didn't know what her brother planned to build upon it,
but she felt — with the same intuition that had always guided her through difficult times —
that it was more than just a fraternal gesture.
It was the first move in something far greater.
Su Lan crossed her arms and drew a slow breath.
She allowed her curiosity to linger, but she pushed her worries aside.
Because, in the end, she trusted Yeon.
As she had trusted their father.
As she would always trust the Zhuge blood.
And even without knowing where her brother's path would lead the imperial clan, she knew one thing with absolute certainty:
"Whatever destiny my brother is shaping… I will walk beside him."