Chapter 1: The Great Upheaval of the Dynasty

The Realm of Newborns, the Skyward Domain, the Great Zhou Dynasty.

At this moment, the imperial palace of the Great Zhou was crowded with people gathered before the Emperor's sickbed. Each figure was clad in the finest silk and brocade, but one among them stood out—a man in a yellow robe adorned with four-clawed dragon-serpent embroidery. He was kneeling at the side of the bed, none other than the Emperor’s own brother, Luo Yuanhuang.

Suddenly, the doors burst open with a bang, and two figures—a youth and a maiden, both no more than sixteen or seventeen—hurried in, their faces grave and sorrowful as they rushed to the Emperor’s bedside.

The youth was Ye Jiuyao, son of the Duke of Side-by-Side, a pillar of the realm. The maiden was Luo Qingyu, the eldest princess of the dynasty and, since childhood, betrothed to Ye Jiuyao.

“Qingyu, why have you brought him here—a useless good-for-nothing!” Luo Yuanhuang’s face darkened ominously at the sight of Ye Jiuyao, as if the young man were a harbinger of misfortune, his presence an ill omen, and he scolded sharply.

Ye Jiuyao glanced in surprise at Luo Yuanhuang, sensing something different about the man today—his tone, his attire, the authoritative way he regarded others. It was reminiscent of the Emperor himself, lofty and unassailable.

Did the old man think he had inherited the throne already?

Spurred by Luo Yuanhuang’s rebuke, the others looked at Ye Jiuyao with thinly veiled disdain, yet he paid no heed. His gaze remained tender as he watched the young princess holding the Emperor’s hand.

“Qingyu, care for Jiuyao well. He is a good child. You two must… must support each other always…”

“Father, please don’t worry…” Luo Qingyu’s eyes shimmered with tears, her voice choked with emotion. Standing beside her, Ye Jiuyao nodded gravely.

The Emperor smiled in relief at their response, but Luo Yuanhuang, watching from the side, knew his elder brother’s end was near. He quickly grasped the Emperor’s other hand and spoke urgently.

“Brother, with your passing, our dynasty will be left without a sovereign. The nation cannot be a day without an Emperor. All those eligible for succession are gathered here today. It is time to establish a new Emperor.”

“You know well the Eastern Sovereign’s royal house always covets our Great Zhou. If you depart, what will become of us then?”

The Emperor sighed, his countenance clouded with sorrow. He tried to sit up but lacked the strength, bitterness etched across his face.

Luo Qingyu and Luo Yuanhuang supported him at once, letting him lean against them.

Drawing a deep breath, the Emperor seemed to recover some vigor and declared, “The Great Zhou cannot be without a ruler for even a day. My destiny is spent. Today, I pass the throne to…”

His gaze swept over the assembly, lingering at last on Luo Yuanhuang.

Though Luo Yuanhuang kept his expression calm, the anticipation in his eyes and the wild beating of his heart could not be hidden as the Emperor’s gaze rested on him.

The others’ faces fell as they understood, save for Luo Qingyu and Ye Jiuyao, whose concern remained fixed on the dying monarch.

Luo Yuanhuang could not suppress his excitement any longer. A radiant smile broke across his face as he realized the Emperor’s gaze had settled on him. He had always coveted the throne—his father had denied it to him once, but now the chance had come, suddenly and unexpectedly.

Luo Zhouwu, the Emperor, had fought against sects, royal clans, and noble families to strengthen the dynasty’s fortunes, but returned home mortally wounded—now he clung to life by a thread.

Moved, Luo Yuanhuang adjusted himself to make his brother more comfortable as he leaned against him.

But at that moment, Luo Zhouwu’s gaze shifted once more, settling finally on the princess holding his hand.

“Luo Qingyu!”

“Who?!”

“What?!”

A hush fell as every eye in the hall turned to the dazzling young woman. Only Ye Jiuyao’s gaze remained unchanged. When the announcement came, his smile shone like a star—brilliant beyond compare.

Astonishment, disbelief, and envy spread across the faces of the courtiers. Their looks toward Luo Qingyu shifted from affection to something darker… a trace of resentment.

Luo Yuanhuang was struck dumb, but when the truth dawned, he jerked the Emperor’s body and roared in fury.

“Luo Zhouwu, have you lost your mind?!”

The force of his grip sent the Emperor’s frail body trembling, and blood spattered from his lips. Luo Qingyu and the others glared in outrage.

The youth standing nearby now seemed like a primordial beast, his eyes cold as winter ice, fixed on Luo Yuanhuang with deadly intensity.

“Second Brother, I know your schemes. You wish to marry Qingyu to the Eastern Sovereign’s house to resolve our crisis, but do not forget—greed knows no bounds!”

“Qingyu, take the imperial seal.”

Summoning his last strength, Luo Zhouwu wrenched his hand free from the princess’s grasp and, trembling, pointed at Luo Yuanhuang as he shouted. Yet when he turned to Qingyu, his face softened with doting affection. He gently stroked her head with his right hand, and with his left, shakily produced a jade seal—the very symbol of the nation’s destiny.

“Qingyu, take it.”

He held the seal out to her, his voice full of love. Qingyu glanced at Ye Jiuyao, who nodded in encouragement.

Only then did she accept the seal, and Luo Yuanhuang could no longer contain himself.

“Ye Jiuyao, are you, a worthless brat, trying to interfere in the succession?!”

“Cough… cough… Luo Yuanhuang, if you insult Jiuyao again while I still draw breath, I’ll have the Duke of Side-by-Side return and teach you a lesson!”

At these words, Luo Yuanhuang fell silent, clearly cowed by the mention of the Duke—a man he dared not provoke.

“Henceforth… you are all to assist Qingyu well. She is still young, and knows little of statecraft—especially you, Luo Yuanhuang!”

“Support her well, and forget any thoughts of political marriage. Qingyu’s only betrothed is Jiuyao!”

Luo Yuanhuang dared not protest. The Emperor’s warning reminded him that, no matter how much of a wastrel Jiuyao seemed, his father was a man of unparalleled ferocity—one he could not afford to cross.

“Do you hear me, Luo Yuanhuang? If you interfere in Qingyu and Jiuyao’s relationship, I will… I will… cough, cough… end you myself…”

At these words, sorrow could no longer be suppressed in Qingyu and Jiuyao’s eyes. Tears welled up, for the Emperor had always been kind to them since childhood, and they knew this was the fleeting glow before death. Grief overwhelmed them.

Ye Jiuyao sighed as he looked at Luo Zhouwu. With that sigh, the Emperor’s feeble body suddenly stilled, his hand—still pointed at Luo Yuanhuang—fell limp. It was all so abrupt.

“Father!”

“Father-in-law!”

For a time, the palace resounded with cries of grief. Soon, news spread that the Emperor of Great Zhou had passed away and the throne had gone to the sixteen-year-old Princess Luo Qingyu.

Holding her father’s cooling body, Luo Qingyu trembled. Tears streamed down her face as she clung to him ever tighter.

At her side, Ye Jiuyao’s eyes blazed with murderous intent, yet as he turned to Luo Qingyu, all warmth and tenderness returned. He gently supported her, his gaze full of infinite love.

“Qingyu, let us see our father off together, so he may rest without worry.”

Ye Jiuyao tried to keep his tone gentle, but tears glimmered at the corners of his eyes, falling silently one by one.

“Yes. From now on, I will bear this dynasty upon my shoulders. I will uphold our father’s legacy and ensure no noble family, sect, or royal clan dares covet our realm!”

At that moment, Luo Qingyu seemed transformed—her former softness replaced by newfound strength and maturity.

Ye Jiuyao’s heart ached at the sight. She should have been enjoying the blossoming years of youth, not bearing such burdens. But perhaps this was fate.

And if fate proves unjust, I, Ye Jiuyao, will stand by her side and shatter these shackles, so that from this day forth, destiny shall be mine to command!

The Emperor’s funeral was a simple affair. At the moment of his burial, thousands of miles away in a frontier city, a middle-aged man sat with imposing air upon a grand armchair, a letter in his hand.

“That damned Luo! Digging pits for me even now. I have only one son, and now you want him to marry in as a son-in-law? How am I supposed to hold my head high? He may not be my own flesh and blood, but he’s the only son I have. And now you’ve gone and kicked the bucket, curse you!”

The man cursed as he finished the letter, but there was no anger in his eyes—just a trace of sorrow, and his weathered gaze was clouded with mist.

“Damn scoundrel!”

He spat another curse, then crushed the letter in his powerful hand, slumping back in his chair. After a moment, he took up a brush and began to write furiously on prepared paper.

“Jiuyao, your father has failed you!”

This man was none other than the so-called ruthless legend, Ye Hanzhou, the very figure Luo Yuanhuang had feared.

…

Seven days had passed since Luo Zhouwu’s death.

Tomorrow would be Luo Qingyu’s coronation—the first empress in the history of the Great Zhou. The preparations were grander than ever, yet the dynasty had invited no outsiders, for this was their own affair, witnessed only by the people of Zhou.

Now, Ye Jiuyao stood at Luo Qingyu’s side, helping her with her adornments before the mirror. Upon her head, a golden phoenix coronet set with nine treasures; her long, dark hair pinned with a sun-embracing nine-phoenix hairpin; her robe, a resplendent yellow embroidered with nine phoenixes. Ye Jiuyao attended to every detail himself—there were no maids, only him.

For sixteen years, ever since he could remember, it had always been his hands dressing her, whenever he wasn’t eating or sleeping. Today was no exception.

So Ye Jiuyao would make her the most beautiful person in the world, so that all in Great Zhou would envy and adore her.