From the perspective of Zhuge Yui Lan
I had done something I never dared to do in my past life.
I stepped outside the Zhuge imperial castle.
The golden walls that surrounded the palace — those that once felt so safe, so perfect, so suffocating — were now behind me, swallowed by the gentle mist that veiled the island's northern slope.
For a moment, a chill ran down my spine, as if Zhuge Island itself were watching my departure — suspicious, judging what I was about to do.
But I wasn't running away.
With my current cultivation, that would have been impossible.
The very air of the island would answer the call of imperial blood and drag me back, whether I wished it or not.
No — I was leaving with permission.
The authorization came from my mother's hands — something I only obtained after hours of pleading.
Even then, she agreed with that serene yet clearly worried expression, the look of someone who still doubted my sanity.
"If that is what you wish, Yui Lan," she said at last, "then go. But don't think you'll be alone."
And she was right, of course.
I wasn't alone.
No Zhuge daughter ever left the palace gates unaccompanied.
And in my case, the escort was worthy of a small imperial procession.
At the front marched ten guards from the House of the Crimson Lotus — all advanced spiritual cultivators, their light armor gleaming under the sun, spears flashing with refined Qi.
Behind me followed a small group of attendants, carrying provisions, instruments, and the protective talismans my mother insisted on piling up until the very last moment.
And finally, at the rear, came her — my protector.
A tall woman with long gray hair and sharp eyes, dressed in black robes marked with the imperial seal.
Her very presence made the air vibrate with power.
A cultivator of the Spirit Condensation Realm — one of the few on the entire island.
A cultivation nanny, as we respectfully called them — women who devoted their lives to guarding the heirs of Zhuge blood.
Her name was Mu Xian, and she was not the kind to smile.
The first time I met her, I felt the same unease one feels before a storm breaks.
Mu Xian was the kind of person who always seemed to be listening to something no one else could hear.
And since we'd left the castle, she hadn't spoken a single word.
She didn't need to.
Her presence alone was enough to remind me how closely I was being watched.
Our destination was Fei Yao City, the largest commercial center on Zhuge Island — a place where imperial blood was rarely seen.
The official purpose of the trip was simple: to await the return of my brother.
Yes — my dear brother, Zhuge Yu Jin.
The one whose presence on the island always brought both order and tension in equal measure.
The one I secretly wished would stay as far away as possible.
It was ironic, really.
I was being sent to welcome the very person I most wanted to keep distant.
And yet, I accepted the mission with resolve.
Perhaps it was hypocrisy.
Perhaps it was fear.
But deep down, I knew the true reason:
I could no longer ignore this island's fate.
The road to Fei Yao was long but beautiful.
A winding path that cut through fields of jade and forests of spiritual trees whose leaves shimmered with their own light.
The wind carried the scent of salt and the distant crash of waves against the eastern cliffs.
With each step, I moved farther from the castle — and farther from the life I had left behind.
And no matter how much I tried to convince myself that I was calm, I couldn't fool my heart.
It beat fast, restless, as if whispering that this journey, no matter how simple it seemed,
would mark the beginning of something that could never be undone.
I wasn't merely going to welcome my brother.
He needed no escort, no guide, no ceremony.
My trip to Fei Yao was, officially, nothing more than a polite gesture — a filial duty.
But the truth lay folded beneath that pretense, hidden where only I could find it:
the mark on my face.
It was literal.
A dark, slender stain — as if someone had drawn a line across my cheek with ancient ink.
In my previous life, I tried to hide it, to cover it, to live with it.
Inside the palace, it was possible — with ointments, veils, quiet rituals.
But every disguise invites questions.
And in the Zhuge world, questions become doors — doors through which the curious and the scheming enter.
But this time, I would erase it.
Not hide it — erase it completely.
And to do that, I had to leave the imperial walls behind.
After all, crafting an excuse for my absence outside the castle would be far easier —
and my secrets would remain buried.
Thus, my plan was double-layered and precise.
Officially, I would await Su Yeon's return in Fei Yao; in truth, I would seek a way to remove the mark — not to disguise it, but to cleanse it forever.
And I knew exactly which method I would use... the same one my master used in my previous life.
But I had another purpose as well.
If, before, I had used my knowledge of the future to awaken my younger sister early — granting the Zhuge clan a formation master years ahead of time —
my goal now was different.
I intended to erase a threat to the Zhuge clan...
A threat I knew was already growing inside Fei Yao City.
A threat that needed to disappear, no matter the cost.
As our caravan neared Fei Yao, the city began to emerge in bursts of color on the horizon — lanterns, tents, the scent of food, the chorus of bargaining voices.
When we descended from the road and entered the market, I felt the weight of my decision tighten around my throat.
Because no matter how determined I was to carry out this hidden task,
I still didn't know what consequences it would bring —
or how vast they would be.