Perspective: Zhuge Su Yeon
In my most honest opinion, my imperial father had always been a radically jealous man — excessively protective of his daughters.
It wasn't something he would ever admit — he'd never put that feeling into words — but it was there, in every decision, every command, every look.
And the proof was obvious in the absurd difference between how he treated the Zhuge princes and the Zhuge princesses.
The contrast was so clear that sometimes I wondered if he even realized how blatant it was.
It all began with marriage.
All seven princes of the imperial family were betrothed.
Every single one.
From the eldest to the youngest.
Some of those arrangements were forged through political alliances, others through ancient pacts, and a few — the strangest ones — through spiritual compatibility, meant to strengthen cultivation bonds between certain bloodlines.
Even the youngest of them, my little brother Zhuge Rong — only seven years old — already had his fate sealed.
Promised to a five-year-old girl, daughter of a great southern clan.
An agreement made before either of them even understood what a promise meant.
Meanwhile…
none of my sisters had any such arrangement.
Not one.
Even Zhuge Su Lan, the eldest among the girls — twenty-seven years old now — remained unmarried.
And worse still for the nobles who coveted her: she was free.
Free to choose whom to marry, or to never marry at all.
And, considering the way my father treated her, I knew that if Su Lan ever decided to live alone for the rest of her life, no one would dare oppose her.
My father never explained the reason for that distinction.
But he didn't need to — it was clear enough just by watching him.
He saw his daughters as jade flowers — precious, delicate, meant to be admired, protected, and kept far from the filth of the world.
While his sons were seen as swords — forged to bleed, to endure, and to die if necessary.
And that difference didn't stop at marriage.
It began much earlier — at twelve years old.
Every Zhuge prince, without exception, was sent to a cultivation sect as soon as he reached that age.
Titles, talent, or will didn't matter.
At twelve, they left the comfort of the palace and began living under the strict guidance of unknown masters, facing solitude, discipline, and the real world.
It was my father's way of "forging them."
Turning boys into men.
Teaching that the throne was no place for dreamers.
All of them… except me.
I was supposed to be sent as well.
The decision had already been made, and the sect chosen.
But according to my father, my departure would bring "chaos to the empire."
Those were his exact words.
I never asked what he meant by that.
But I understood.
He was afraid.
Afraid of what might happen if my secrets were discovered.
And because of that fear, he kept me here.
But that didn't mean my life was any easier.
While my brothers trained under stern masters, I was personally taught by the Emperor himself.
And when your teacher is the Emperor, there's no room for mistakes.
Every failure is remembered.
Every success is demanded again.
And every day becomes a lesson in the price of responsibility.
Even so… as difficult as it was, I still felt privileged.
Because I could see the contrast.
I saw what my sisters had.
They didn't have to fight.
They didn't need to study cultivation, politics, or imperial etiquette — not unless they wanted to.
My father simply let them live.
They could dedicate themselves to music, painting, flowers, travel — or to none of those things.
He allowed them to choose their own paths, while we, the men, were forged by iron and fire.
And as much as I tried to understand, there was something profoundly unjust about that difference.
But also… something profoundly human.
My father loved his daughters too much.
And perhaps for that very reason, he trapped them beneath the illusion of freedom.
I couldn't help but think…
what would my imperial father do if he discovered what I was about to do?
To place his beloved daughters — my own blood sisters — in a tournament that promised anything but safety and restraint.
A tournament where even the smallest mistake could cost more than just defeat.
The answer was easy to imagine.
If he found out, he'd return at once, no matter where he was.
He'd cross oceans, cut through the wind, and descend upon Zhuge Island like a living storm — just to throw me off a cliff for such recklessness.
And honestly, I wouldn't blame him.
My father had always had a special talent for protecting what he loved — even when that meant suffocating it.
And his daughters… were what he loved most in this world.
His precious jades, as he liked to call them.
And in moments of reflection, I began to doubt my own decision.
Was it really right to put them at risk?
Was it fair to push those who had always lived in safety into a field where pain and fear were inevitable?
For hours, that doubt followed me like a silent shadow.
But everything changed the moment I saw their faces.
It happened during the meeting I called in the Throne Hall — the same hall that hadn't heard the sound of female laughter in years.
I explained what the tournament would be, its rules, its dangers.
I told them there could be injuries — perhaps even deaths.
I expected fear in their eyes… but what I saw was the opposite.
Excitement.
They were thrilled.
Genuinely thrilled.
Those eyes that I'd always seen filled with serenity, delicacy, and indifference now shone with something entirely new: life.
They exchanged glances, smiles, gestures of enthusiasm.
Some began discussing tactics, others asked about the weapons they could use.
A few even joked about betting on who would win first.
The energy was contagious.
And in that moment, I understood: they wanted to fight.
Not out of duty, nor for glory, but because they wanted to prove something — perhaps to themselves, perhaps to a world that had always seen them as mere ornaments of the throne.
I smiled, even knowing the risk I was taking.
Because right then, I realized there was no turning back.
They would fight.
Not for me, nor for the empire, but for themselves.
And since they had chosen that path…
I could only do one thing: prepare them as best as I could.
That meant seeking what was rarest, most powerful, and most forgotten.
It meant descending once more to that place almost no one knew existed —
the hidden library beneath my own chambers.
A forbidden archive, where the empire kept the techniques it preferred to keep far from mortal hands.
Techniques that had built empires, destroyed dynasties, and created monsters.
Techniques that, by my father's direct orders, were never to be touched.
I descended the stone steps lit by blue torches, feeling the air grow heavier with every stride.
The sound of spiritual currents whispered through the walls, as if the island itself were breathing in secret.
As I advanced into the darkness, only one thought followed me:
If my sisters are destined to fight… then let them fight with the power of the Zhuge.