Chapter 5: Chapter 4

image [https://i.imgur.com/ax9HUgO.png]

----------------------------------------

“Stillness births power.

Unseen threads guide the blind bloom.

Fate, rewoven by jade mist.

A child's touch, a prince's fall.”

----------------------------------------

Morning mist, thick and pearlescent, clung to the lacquered railings of the observation gallery, curling like incense smoke around Dowager Empress Xiuying’s fingers. She stood beneath a cloistered arch, draped in robes the color of moonlight on still water, her gaze fixed on the courtyard below. Beside her, Raven, her most trusted shadow guard, stood in the guise of an attendant, silent as a drawn blade.

Below, her granddaughter, Areum, moved—slow, deliberate, untethered to the world in the way of dreamers and mystics. She did not stumble. Did not search. Her bare feet traced perfect circles across the jade tiles, following the subtle cadence of Watcher 9’s breath and balance.

Xiuying tilted her head, drawing on her smoke pipe. “Raven.”

“Madam?” the sword maiden replied, her voice a low hum.

“What is 9’s code name again?”

“Goose, my lady.” Raven paused, a faint chuckle escaping her lips. “Or as your granddaughter calls her, Maza Gūsu.”

The Empress’s lips curved into a rare, soft smile. “Mother Goose, eh.”

The sword maiden known as Goose never gave verbal commands. Her instructions were conveyed through the barest shifts of posture, minute changes in weight, the subtle dance of stances. Yet, the blind girl mirrored her precisely, as if sight were irrelevant, as if the silence between master and student was its own profound language. No flinches. No fear. Only the flowing rhythm of form and energy, a seamless continuation of movement.

A ripple moved through the courtyard’s qi, subtle as a pulse beneath silk. Xiuying’s gaze narrowed. The air around the child shimmered—faint, nearly formless. It was jade mist, not seen but felt, like a breeze passing through polished leaves, brushing against the Dowager’s spiritual senses, curious and alive.

“She commands the mist.” Raven murmured, more to herself than the Dowager.

"Not quite," Xiuying corrected, the words like pebbles dropped into still water. "She does not command, but communes, a silent conversation with the unseen currents." Her hands, a quiet grace, settled within the whispering folds of her sleeves as she faced the waiting shadow. "For eyes that know not light may yet behold the heart of things, truths eluding the keenest sight," she mused. "And the shroud of unknowing, alas, falls heaviest upon the fool who tends to think they know all.”

Goose adjusted her stance. Areum followed a breath later, weight perfectly balanced, spine like drawn calligraphy.

Xiuying allowed herself a rare, fleeting smile. Small puffs of smoke escaping her pipe. “She is not a tool, but the tender, fierce heart of a child, a seed, not a fleeting flower. Indeed, her roots already grasp the ether, drawing strength from the heavens, cradled in mist and the ancient song of memory..”

At the far end of the gallery, Emperor Jiwoon walked, his hands clasped behind his back, robes trailing in precise elegance. Each step echoed like a statement on the jade inlay of the path, flanked by two of his sons. The First and Second Princes, Jinho and Jinhue, kept pace, along with a precision of attendants—one quiet, the other huffing.

They came to the courtyard’s overlook, and Jiwoon stopped. Below, the blind girl moved like poured silk across the moss floor, her arms sweeping in crescents, her weight balanced as if guided by ancestral rhythm. Her attendant shadowed her in silent dedication.

The Emperor made a noise in his throat—not quite approval, not quite disbelief, but an acknowledgement nonetheless. “She is becoming remarkable,” Jiwoon said, his chin lifting with sovereign satisfaction. “Despite her afflictions. Perhaps I judged her too soon.”

Jinho, the elder, said nothing, merely observed with his usual quiet intensity. Jinhue, predictably, scoffed.

The Emperor didn’t turn. He studied the girl. “Areum, was it?”

“Yes, my liege,” one of his attendants confirmed. Who would have thought that his strange, blind daughter, wrapped in scandal and silence, would be so impressive? Certainly not him.

The procession began to whisper and murmur, but Jiwoon paid them no mind. He had always known that power seldom bloomed quietly. If this child was capable of drawing attention, then she was worth his time. She could still become a valuable pawn. He could still find a need for her.

“She moves without seeing,” he mused aloud, the edge of his tone like a scholar pronouncing a discovery no one else could fathom. “Like a heavenly puppet… no strings, only design.”

An attendant chuckled. “Seems the young lady needs a master to keep her… taut.”

The Emperor simply laughed off the suggestion. Jinhue muttered something about luck, but Jiwoon rolled his eyes and ignored it.

“She is of my blood,” he declared, his voice lifting for his sons to hear. “My lineage persists in her—stronger, even when the world calls her broken.”

"Was it not you who decreed that, Father?" Jinho asked, leaning against the railing, one eye still fixed on his sister below. "That she was... broken?"

Jinhue scoffed, kicking the railing with an impatient boot. "And useless."

The Emperor nodded slowly. "And yet—" He turned to walk again, confident his Princes would follow. "She proved me wrong, unlike some of my other children."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

The truth, as the Emperor understood it, was simple: He was the law, and all must follow the law. He could never be so wrong.

Jinho clenched his fists, following his father.

But Prince Jinhue, at fourteen, prided himself on his martial prowess, convinced he was stronger than his elder brother, Jinho. What Jinho lacked in strength, he made up for with sharp intelligence, a thought Jinhue could tolerate. But the praise for a blind girl, a ‘crippled’ child, and from the Emperor no less? That thought clawed at his very core. She wasn’t even his blood, not entirely. The Emperor had thirteen wives, and only the current Empress, Areum’s mother, had finally birthed him a female heir. Jinhue’s own mother, the second wife, like the others, had only produced sons. The Emperor had secretly eliminated his male siblings, all to secure a female successor. The thought of it all, the injustice, infuriated him.

Consumed by a furious jealousy, Prince Jinhue stepped off the railing of the gallery, dropping lightly to the training grounds below. His fists clenched at his sides, the Emperor’s praise still ringing in his ears like sour wine. Remarkable? His blood? It was absurd. Ludicrous. She was just a girl. Seven at most. And blind.

"Jinhue!" Jinho's voice boomed, echoing across the courtyard.

"Shut it!" Jinhue snapped back.

"You—"

The Emperor raised a hand, silencing his elder son. "Let him go. This will be amusing, if nothing else."

Jinho bowed slightly. "As you wish, Father."

Heat rose in Jinhue’s face. His brother might have found her movements intriguing. Their father might have mistaken them for something divine. But he knew better. There was no way this cripple was stronger than him.

His boots crushed moss as he stomped across the ground, his voice, sharp and raw, tearing through the quiet air. "Hey, cripple!" The word was a brutal stone, hurled at her delicate poise. "You're so impressive, I hear?" he sneered. "Then face a real opponent. Not some soft nanny playing at being a warrior. Let's see if your shadow-dance holds up in a true test. Against a true warrior.”

Goose turned, her eyes narrowing faintly, a subtle shift in her posture that spoke of restrained fury. “Your Highness,” she said, her tone edged like a whetstone, “the Princess is unarmed, untrained, and blind. She is also seven. You, my lord, are seven years older than her.”

“So?” Jinhue snapped. “When I was her age, I had already won about fifty mock battles, against real warriors.”

Goose clenched her fists. If the Prince only knew, his sister could easily sever his head from his shoulders using her hairpin alone. She simply sighed, a soft expulsion of air, containing a universe of frustration.

The courtyard quieted. Areum didn’t speak. She simply stopped mid-form, her head tilting slightly as if listening to something he couldn’t hear. Jinhue grinned. That’s right, he thought. You heard me.

Goose stepped between them, bowing shallowly toward the gallery. “Your Majesties,” she called, her voice clear despite the tension, “may I speak plainly? This is folly.”

From above, the Emperor’s voice rolled like a decree carved in stone. “An attendant does not dictate the play of princes. Let them test their merit.”

The sword maiden’s jaw tightened. Xiuying gave her a calm look and nodded. She stepped back without a word, her movements sharp with forced compliance.

Jinhue moved into the ring, muscles humming with eager tension. Areum stood there barefoot, smaller than she looked from above, her expression unreadable. This would be easy, he thought. He’d knock her down in two steps. Maybe one. Then maybe Father would remember who his actual son was. But, as Goose instinctively already knew, like father, like son.

[Mock Duel Initiated…]

[Notice: Mock Duel Engaged — Opponent: Prince Jinhue (Unarmed)]

[System Safety Modifier: Active | Lethal Output Restricted | Qi Flow Regulation: Partial]

Areum saw the prompts in her mind. They had always been there since birth. Goose called it a third eye; Raven, Goose’s superior and master, called it her inner mind’s eye. Areum was just glad she could understand the language. It had taken a while, but she finally understood the System, as she called it. The system was unique, it had a built-in feature called ‘Accessibility’ that allowed her to navigate the world without aid.

Her bare feet kissed the jade tiles. Her breath was calm, slow, not as deep as Goose, but steady. She didn’t need eyes to know the boy was angry—his footsteps were louder than his voice, punching rhythm into the courtyard like a spoiled drum. She tilted her chin slightly, angling her ear. The wind curved around him differently. Wide stance, too tense. Overconfident. He reeked of plum blossoms, and his heart thundered in his chest.

She didn’t move.

[Passive Skill: Kinetic Echo – Active]

[Passive Skill: Jademist Barrier – Active Aura Initialized]

[Status: Body – Relaxed | Focus – Crystal Blooming]

“I hope this isn’t cheating?” she whispered under her breath, barely audible even to herself. “They call me a prodigy… little do they know.”

He charged.

She felt him more than heard him. The mist in the air tightened around his limbs, pulled by his momentum. The System traced his silhouette, allowing her to 'see' him through her other senses. Her barrier swelled in a quiet pulse. The jade mist rose like breath exhaled through silk—forming around her like a second skin.

He swung.

She leaned.

His fist missed—just barely—but he overcorrected, putting too much weight on his left leg. Areum pivoted. Not away, but through. She clenched her fist tight.

Then.

A ping in her mind’s eye. She could feel her master’s aura flair slightly. It was her way of communicating thought, like a knife poised to leave its scabbard—this however felt more like a warning.

Her fist eased into a palm. Her hand traced the air near his shoulder, and the mist answered. It flowed forward with her, soft but certain, a ripple that passed through his guard like a prayer. There was an audible pop that only they both could hear. His shoulder was most definitely dislocated.

[Non-Contact Counter Registered – Directional Flow: Redirected]

[Result: Opponent’s balance compromised]

Jinhue shrieked in a high pitch of anguish. He stumbled and dropped flat onto his back with a thud, air fleeing his lungs in a shocked grunt.

Areum exhaled. Her heartbeat never spiked. She flexed her fists and turned slightly towards her master. She was right to send that warning; had she followed through with a punch, it would have shattered his collarbone.

[Victory: Achieved | System Logging Outcome]

[…]

[Prompt: Skill Expression Recorded – "Petal in the Storm"]

Areum turned toward her brother and offered him a hand. “Thank you for playing with me, big brother,” she teased in a sweet and innocent voice. “Let’s play again soon, okay?” A mischievous grin playing on her lips. Her eyes shut, like a fox staring into a hen house.

He did not answer. He only lay there, staring in horror at the blind monster that was his little sister.