[ Current realm: Mortal Sovereign (Early) ]

When I regain consciousness, I am immediately made aware of the fact that my vessel completed the final step of my cultivation — Dao Core Integration — on its own.

This process should not normally be automatic or this quick. The two final stages of Dao Vessel are the equivalent of Nascent Soul Ascension, and obtaining them is the equivalent of crossing the large barrier between the Nascent Soul Ascension realm and beyond.

According to my knowledge, it is not strange for living creatures to destroy their bodies and be unable to cross into a higher state of being, resulting in termination.

For me, on the other hand, it is a simple matter for two reasons: I am a Divine grade heavenly treasure, and I am not a living creature. The latter is more important than the former. I don’t have organs I cannot live without, nor do I have blood, bones, or tendons — not in the normal sense at least. Breaking my body; burning my life; integrating the Dao into my physical fiber; for me, it is as simple as existing in the world.

Unlike spirit cultivation which requires deep attainment and understanding of inner alchemy, body cultivation — and the reason it is favored by unintelligent beasts — is a primal and instinctive thing. Integrating the laws of nature into the blueprint of one’s physical existence — returning the vessel to the origin — is a natural, even congenital, thing. A high body cultivation can pass on through generations in the form of Physique for mortal creatures — another reason why unintelligent beasts favor body cultivation; it is the mechanism of their evolution.

Not that any of this matters now.

I am not surprised to find Wu Yulan alive. Unlike my owner, she did not cut her life to perform her technique. Perhaps she should have. The Wu Yulan I find now will never be the genius sword cultivator she was meant to be. Not only did she seal much of her sword attainment, but the technique she used was so difficult for her cultivation realm that it also damaged her spiritual roots. Even if she could regain the memory of the sword she once wielded, with her spiritual roots as they are now, she is no better than an ordinary mortal.

However, what I find most shocking is the fact that my owner is still alive. I was most certainly not in error when I felt her destroy her life vessels in order to fuel that mesmerizing technique. Though I don’t feel much vitality from her, I do feel some — enough to live a few years as a cripple.

The black and red lily flower in her hair — the so-called sundrinker lily — is withered, just like my owner’s life, but more than that, it is burning with a bright, orange flame.

It takes only one glance into the spiritual vessel of both of them to understand the meaning of the princess' words when she claimed, and rightfully so, that time and place of their demise rests entirely in her hands alone.

Coursing through their broken meridians, and in my owner's case, holding her ruined life vessel together, are rivers of fire energy, and threads of icy radiance. This energy is not their own, and its law is beyond my comprehension.

All three of them are seated at the table. My owner and Wu Yulan are trembling in their seats, holding cups made of ice in their hands.

They are not trembling out of fear; not entirely at least.

Their hearts are crushed. Being denied even the opportunity to die — especially in my owner’s case who was most certain that death was the only outcome for her — is something that truly enlightened them to the power that the unknown figure wields.

In their eyes, the figure that calls herself a princess is qualified to call herself a Goddess.

Even so, the reason why they are trembling is the agony they must feel from having that extreme fire energy coursing through their veins. Their blood is on fire, leaving black marks across their skin wherever their veins would be normally visible.

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“Is the tea to your liking?” the figure asks.

Wu Yulan stares into her cup, then looks at Lan Xiaohui with pleading eyes. My owner, who has ten times the amount of fire energy coursing through her body compared to Wu Yulan, can not even look at her companion. The best she can do is try not to cry out in pain, or show her tears.

How long have they been tortured like this?

Wu Yulan brings the cup to her lips, tilts it over, and then sets it back down.

“It is very sweet,” she says, her voice trembling as she desperately holds on to the ice cup for its comforting cold.

The figure nods. “Good, and you?” she asks, looking at my owner next.

Slowly, Lan Xiaohui also brings the cup to her lips and smiles — or winces — as she puts it back down.

“It is... very fragrant,” she says, tone far more controlled than Wu Yulan’s.

“Good,” the figure repeats nodding. “It seems you can be obedient after all.”

The tea cups are empty and always have been. Strangely enough, when Wu Yulan and Lan Xiaohui graded the tea, I did not sense any dishonesty in their words. Have they completely dissociated from reality from the fiery torture?

As I recover more of my processes, I delve deeper into Lan Xiaohui’s body, trying to further assess her damage. That is when I find out just how effective this torture method is — though, lesser beings might call it cruel instead.

Their seas of consciousness are seas of fire. Their very souls are burning away. The only pain I could feel in this existence has been that of the soul and I know first-hand that a mortal creature could not withstand it for long.

Except for Lan Xiaohui and Wu Yulan who have been, considering the evidence, withstanding it for two weeks.

“What are your names?” the figure asks, playing with the cup between her fingers.

“Wu Yulan,” Wu Yulan replies with some difficulty.

“Lan… Xiaohui,” my owner replies, using her former name. I don’t blame her; considering the amount of pain she is in, even the idea of lying or pretending that she is close to becoming someone else does not cross her mind.

Wu Yulan looks at my owner, her expression more ghastly and concerned than before.

“P-please,” Wu Yulan whispers. “We won’t try… to fight you anymore. L-let Sister Xuelian go. I will do anything… anything you want.”

The figure scoffs, planting her right elbow on the table and then resting her jaw on the back of her hand.

“First you wanted to send this princess off to the afterlife, and now you want to negotiate,” the figure says, for once, amusement in her tone. “Don’t you have it backward?”

“I was… was… wr—“

Before Wu Yulan can apologize, my owner’s hand grasps Wu Yulan’s hand tightly and squeezes. “Don’t… apologize. I can… take it.”

“This princess has never met someone so stubborn,” the figure says and then laughs. “Are you not even grateful that this princess saved your miserable life and let you spend another day with your dear Yaoyue?”

When the figure asks this question, a glimmer of gratitude does flicker in my owner’s heart, which also causes her to lose her focus, and groan in pain.

“Good, your heart is far more honest than you,” the figure says, gloating satisfaction in her tone.

I submerge my consciousness into Lan Xiaohui’s burning sea of soul. Though I cannot douse the fires, I can, at least, share some of the agony she feels, though I am not sure if I am successful because I do not feel anything.

“Listen very carefully,” I tell them. “There must be a reason you are still alive. Her demeanor has also changed entirely. There might be a possibility that you could survive this if you appease her. Swallow your pride and do whatever it takes to survive, even if you have to beg for your life or lie.”

Wu Yulan’s eyes narrow at my words, but Lan Xiaohui just nods once in understanding.

Mysteriously, the figure smiles at the same time, as if also reacting to my words.

“You should listen to your sword,” she says. “This princess has spent a long time thinking about what to do with you. Letting you go? Also possible.”

With those words, the figure looks at her fingernails and tosses her hand over a few times.

Wu Yulan stares at the figure, her heart suddenly beating madly. Survive? Letting them go? How long has it been since she had such daring dreams?

“Y-your highness,” Wu Yulan whispers. “What must we do… for you to let us go?”

“Your highness?” the figure repeats, smiling. “Good. Good. This princess will tell you: You have to kill the man who trapped me here!”

Lan Xiaohui groans in pain once more when she hears the reply and Wu Yulan’s expression also falters.

They had expected something along the lines of finding a way to release the figure, but to kill the man who had the power to trap her here in the first place is an even more distant possibility.

“I-if you let us go,” Wu Yulan whispers. “We will… kill him!”

“This princess is not impressed with your performance nor encouraged by your lie,” the figure flatly says, calling out Wu Yulan’s obvious lie. At least Wu Yulan took my words to heart — lie or beg for life. “You kill him? Not possible. If Lu Long could die just by wishing him dead, this princess would be the happiest she had ever been.”

Lan Xiaohui raises her head at the figure’s words.

“Did you say… Lu Long?” Wu Yulan asks.

Lu Long? The hero who courted the Fire Empress and, when she turned into a dragon at the end of her life, killed her and sealed her in a mountain?

A chilling killing intent rises from the figure. “You know who that is?” the figure asks, narrowing her eyes. “So you are related to him after all.”