Qin Zhao slowly sipped his tea as he sat alone in a room large enough to comfortably accommodate an entire army. It had been centuries since the last time he’d visited the imperial palace, and it was still as senselessly ostentatious as he remembered.

To even call it a palace was almost a joke. It was the largest city in the empire, and entire generations of the imperial family had lived and died without ever leaving it. Ten thousand years was a long time for a family to grow, and while Qin Zhao’s grandfather, the God-Emperor, had not been actively siring children the entire time, he’d spent a long enough time doing so that the imperial family—like everything else in the palace—was so grand that it practically lost any meaning.

Even as a member of the third generation, Qin Zhao’s royal status granted him no special privileges. Even most of the emperor’s immediate children went ignored. Qin Zhao’s father hadn’t even been certain how far down the ludicrously long line of succession he placed, but he estimated that he was a prince in the high hundreds.

A prince in name only.

That was a theme that pervaded the entire imperial family. So much of the palace and those who resided there was about form, rather than substance. Petty hierarchies formed over who was more closely related to their divine ancestor, as if any of it mattered. Qin Zhao had been glad to leave it behind, and as he waited for his appointment, he was reminded of why.

It had been hours since the appointed time, and he hadn’t even been told who he was meant to be meeting. There were servants nearby ready to attend his requests, but it was tacitly clear that he was not to leave.

Politics in the empire was all about subtle games and careful manipulation, but the imperial palace was where those games were born. Superficially, he was being treated quite well. Servants waiting on him, a grand hall to himself, and tea expensive enough to turn even the eyes of a grandmaster red with envy. The time he was being kept waiting was of little consequence—that he was being seen at all was a privilege, and among immortals a few hours was less than the blink of an eye.

Yet each and every detail had a deeper meaning. Qin Zhao was alone in a comically large room—a statement about his place, or lack thereof, in the family. The servants waiting on him were only at the houtian stage, and while the fact that they were cultivators at all would be a great honor anywhere else, within the palace walls it was an insult. And finally, the tea, while expensive, was not to his liking. Though perhaps that last one was a coincidence.

It was the wait that irked him the most, however. It was the sort of petty power move that served absolutely no purpose except to make the one doing it feel important. Unfortunately, that kind of petulant flaunting was quite typical of his family. As always, form trumped substance.

Qin Zhao felt his hosts before he saw them. Their domains, though politely restrained as per custom, were indomitable. Such was their raw strength that it threatened to overwhelm him even when held back. He had only felt such power once before—in the presence of his uncle. There were precious few who could match such an overwhelming presence.

Two women entered the room, walking in perfect sync. They were identical from head to toe, right down to the outfits they wore—long silk robes in black and white, accented with soft brown and gold, and sheer veils covering their faces below their glowing golden eyes. Their long black hair was worn in a pair of heavily ornamented high ponytails.

Though he’d never met or even seen either of them before, Qin Zhao knew the twins by reputation. The oldest and most powerful of all the God-Emperor’s progeny, his aunts—Qin Xiang and Qin Ling. Despite their age, they looked like tall and lithe young women, no older than his disciples.

“Well, well, you must be our little brother’s favorite.”

“It’s good to finally put a face to the name, Qin Zhao.”

Even their voices were identical as they spoke one after the other. Qin Zhao could tell them apart by their auras—despite all appearances they were not dual cultivators, and though their paths were intertwined, they each had distinct domains. However, without formal introduction, he didn’t know which was which.

He stood, putting his hands in his sleeves and holding them in front of him as he bowed.

“Honored aunts, you bless me with your presence. How may this humble servant be of use?”

The two cocked their heads and raised one eyebrow each, in a perfect mirror of each other.

“You know us, do you?”

“How interesting.”

It was strange to see such a different approach to a shared path than the one he knew. The twins were like staring into an alternate reality in which his disciples never engaged in dual cultivation, yet chose to pursue a shared path anyway.

“Only by reputation. In the entire world, the number of cultivators more powerful than Qin Yongliang is vanishingly small.”

They covered their mouths and tittered—even their laughs were in sync. Somehow it was even more unsettling coming from a pair that weren’t sharing a single soul.

“Being able to sense that is no small feat itself.”

“Especially for one as weak as you.”

Qin Zhao tried not to bristle at their snide remark as the two made their way across the hall to sit close enough for polite conversation. There was no malice in it. Each of them was powerful enough to crush him like a bug on their own, and he knew that they were even stronger together.

Many of the sect grandmasters considered themselves to be at the apex of xiantian cultivation, and Yan De had even audaciously claimed to approach the emperor in strength. They were wrong. Qin Yongliang was humble to a fault, and was an expert at hiding his power, but the twins were on a completely different level.

“You honor me with your praise. It is only because I’ve spent the last millennium focused on academics that I can accomplish such a feat.”

The twins looked him up and down as he remained standing, then shrugged.

“A waste of potential, if you ask me. Sit, Qin Zhao, and know that you may call me Qin Xiang.”

“And I am Qin Ling—though ‘Aunt Ling’ is fine. Do try not to get us confused. I disagree, though—there’s much that can be learned about the world beyond rigidly adhering to one’s path.”

Qin Zhao was surprised that they could disagree, though he felt foolish as soon as he thought about it. He had already been able to sense that they were different people, no matter how they presented themselves.

He bowed once more and returned to his seat.

“I believe it is indeed the rigid adherence to our paths, passed down from master to disciple for thousands of years, which has led to our empire falling behind in the frontiers of cultivation.”

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Qin Xiang scoffed.

“Watch your tongue. We still stand supreme over the other so-called ‘nations’ that stubbornly reject father’s rule.”

Her sister smiled, and now that they’d stopped, Qin Zhao had to wonder whether their mirroring was something they did out of habit, or if it was rehearsed.

“That’s true, and there are more xiantian cultivators among the great sects than the rest of the continent combined. Perhaps our clever young nephew has another meaning in mind?”

It was jarring in the extreme for anyone to be calling him ‘young’ but Qin Zhao inclined his head.

“Indeed I do, Aunt Ling. Are you aware that the number of xiantian cultivators within the empire has only fallen in the last hundred years?”

Qin Xiang shook her head.

“That hardly indicates a trend, especially with Yamato’s anomaly killing so many off.”

“Let him speak, sister. Yes, that’s true—what of it?”

Qin Zhao composed his thoughts carefully. It was a rare opportunity to speak to figures as powerful as his aunts, and while he knew that they were only entertaining him to be polite, he was more than happy to take advantage of it before moving on to the real reason they called him.

“In fact, the number of ascensions throughout the empire has been consistently falling for the last thousand years, while in Goryeo it has been rising, and Yamato recently produced their first—the anomaly you spoke of, Ienaga Yumi.”

Qin Ling put a finger to her chin and pouted.

“And you think this is a sign of our empire’s decline?”

He shook his head—that was a dangerous road to go down.

“No—merely stagnation. In our illustrious ancestor’s extended isolation, we’ve grown too comfortable in our supremacy, while others use the pressure we exert to fuel their ongoing advancement.”

“Is that why you worked with Do Hye to found the Grand Academy?”

Qin Xiang sneered.

“Father wasn’t very pleased to hear that you were sharing our secrets with beasts and barbarians.”

Ah, there it was. It was inevitable that they would guide the discussion to that, but at least it was on territory that he could defend.

“Our ‘secrets’ have not been secret for some time. If you will forgive me for saying so, by the time the academy was founded, we had more to learn from outsiders than they did from us.”

“That’s a rather bold claim.”

“One that I believe is supported by the academy’s limited record. In the year that it was active, it produced dozens of successful multi-discipline cultivators, many of whom have already reached the peak of houtian.”

Qin Xiang propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her knuckles.

“And at least one xiantian, though there’s been some debate about how your disciples should be counted.”

Ling looked up at the high ceiling, as if pondering the question.

“As dual cultivators, are they one xiantian, or two? When the Hayakawa girl joined them, does that count as a new ascension? If so, was it the second or third?”

“And who, exactly, is Li Meili? It’s quite strange that she left that identity out when she declared herself empress.”

Qin Zhao did not rise to the bait. They were trying to surprise him with how much they knew and throw him off balance with new revelations. He took a sip of his overrated tea and simply nodded.

“They are an experiment which has gone terribly right. Incredible talents without previous bias, raised on a foundation of the best aspects of every known discipline and allowed to develop and flourish however they may.”

“Even if that means using demonic techniques like dual cultivation?”

“Even if it meant allowing them to continue cultivating after one of them developed a demonic core.”

Qin Ling sighed.

“Let’s not focus on that part. You seem remarkably unfazed about the fact that she’s started calling herself empress.”

Qin Zhao stroked his beard, allowing himself a small smile. He was rightfully proud of his disciples.

“When last I left them, they were well on their way towards conquering Yamato as the second nation under their auspices. It is a fairly natural outcome.”

Xiang scowled.

“The empire has no borders, Qin Zhao. By naming herself empress, she has directly invoked father’s wrath.”

Her sister sighed.

“As if it wasn’t already bad enough that they’d made enemies of Yan De and Shen Yu. Half the empire wants your disciples dead, and you by extension.”

“And now they have a perfect excuse to go to war.”

Qin Zhao shrugged.

“That much was inevitable. Shen Yu won’t let the Sovereign’s Tear go so easily, and Yan De still holds a grudge over his children.”

Ling covered her mouth and giggled.

“It is rather funny that she managed to steal both of them away from him.”

Her sister shot her a warning glare.

“Ling...”

“Right, sorry.”

Qin Xiang sighed.

“We would like to help you, Qin Zhao, but you have to understand that you’ve placed us in a difficult position.”

“Little brother couldn’t meet you himself because he’s too busy fending off allegations that he aided Yoshika on your behalf.”

“Completely baseless, of course.”

Qin Zhao sipped his tea, his expression placid.

“Of course.”

Ling smirked.

“Anyway, I was serious about those questions earlier. We need you to answer those to the best of your knowledge.”

Qin Zhao raised an eyebrow.

“Why? Everything I have done was for the good of this empire. If I am to be ostracized for it, then I accept that. I will not compromise for the sake of reputation.”

Qin Xiang groaned.

“Damn it, nephew, don’t make this harder than it has to be. You know full well that this is the only way forward.”

“It’s quite difficult to advocate for you when you’re withholding critical information about enemies of the empire.”

Zhao sighed. It had taken some time, but he’d finally pieced things together. With his family, it was always the things unsaid which spoke loudest. The twins wouldn’t be acting purely for the sake of their brother, nor was earning a favor from either Yongliang or Zhao worth their time and effort.

“You haven’t told me what you expect to gain from all this. With respect, it is not within your purview to defend the empire from outsiders, so why go to such lengths for my uncle and I?”

The sisters exchanged glances, and Qin Xiang gave him a predatory smile.

“We want her.”

“It would be a terrible waste for such potential to be destroyed, but the only way to save them now is for them to join the empire as our wards.”

He couldn’t help himself. Qin Zhao stared at his aunts incredulously.

“You want Yoshika to become the God-Emperor’s consorts?”

Qin Xiang waved him off.

“Only nominally. Father hasn’t set foot in the imperial harem in thousands of years, let alone conjugated anything.”

Ling nodded in agreement.

“They can’t be his enemies if they are his.”

Qin Zhao pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Despite all their power, the twin sisters held a very traditional attitude. They were quite particular about how men and women should behave, especially when it came to their duties as the wardens of the imperial harem.

They had also never met his disciples.

“I’ll answer your questions. First, Lady Hayakawa Kaede had already joined with them by the time they ascended together, so her rise to xiantian cannot be considered distinct. Second, as they all share the same soul, it would be most accurate to consider Yoshika to be a single xiantian cultivator.”

“Ah! So then—”

He held up a hand to cut off Qin Ling.

“Accurate, but incredibly unwise. They stole the Sovereign’s Tear out from under the noses of Sovereign Shen Yu and Grandmaster Yan De. They created an entire nation from nothing, and then conquered a second, defeating the Demon Lord Longyan and killing his most powerful lieutenant in the process. For as long as I have known them, each and every one of Yoshika’s aspects has greatly exceeded every expectation I had of them. Together?”

He shook his head.

“Nobody—not even Yoshika herself—realizes just how powerful she truly is. Never mind one xiantian cultivator. It would be foolish to think of her as three, four, or even five. Her potential is as boundless as the heavens, and you underestimate her at your own peril.”