Wǎn Lù and Lin Wei rode the Earth-Dragon locomotive back to the capital. Wǎn Lù gazed out the window at the blurring landscape, her mind a calm lake over a turbulent depth. Lin Wei, however, was a storm of silent calculation. Finally, she spoke.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "[Nodding calmly] I understand your eagerness. But there is already someone in this kingdom who loves him, who cares for him. If she knew his past, she would move mountains to help the man she loves. It would be a win-win-win situation."

  [Lin Wei]: "Win-win-win? Why the third ‘win’? And… are you speaking of Lian?" Lin Wei’s expression was sceptical. "Even the king himself knows her feelings. Yet he deliberately avoids her. Sister, do you truly think flowers can bloom on a slab of concrete?"

  [Wǎn Lù]: "That insufferable, heartless man! How can he be so blind to a woman’s devotion right before his eyes? Aish… This will be more difficult than I thought." She fell silent, strategising how to breach the defences of a fortress that had spent a lifetime learning to repel all intruders.

  Meanwhile, in the palace, Jian Zhi sat in his private study. Before him lay a report from the Yè Yǐng Network. His eyes scanned the coded text.

  Jian Zhi’s Internal Monologue: Tiě Mó Wáng… the "Iron Demon King." The Northern Province, ruled by Lóng Liè, is under siege. And Wǎn Lù… youngest of the royal line, no public records. I see. So that is your gambit, Empress. You send your most precious, hidden daughter south, away from the Albion Dominion and the collapsing north—a safety net for your bloodline, distrusting even your own second son. An impressive, ruthless calculation. But you made one error: you failed to read the new terrain before placing your piece.

  As he pondered the empress’s cold political geometry, Xuè Lán entered without ceremony.

  [Xuè Lán]: "Are you burying yourself in reports again? When will you give your eyes and that overworked brain of yours a rest, you impossible brat?"

  [Jian Zhi]: "[Without looking up] The moment you cease your nagging, ‘old lady.’ Shouldn’t you be with your husband? State your business."

  [Xuè Lán]: "[An exasperated sigh] ‘Old lady’ again? Just you wait. Once I’ve fully integrated that ‘gift’ you gave me, I’ll pound some sense into you." She leaned forward, her tone shifting. "I came with a question. Don’t you think your body could find balance if your soul had its missing Water? [She tilted her head, watching him closely]"

  He set his brush down precisely and met her gaze, his own eyes calm pools of frozen logic.

  [Jian Zhi]: "Are we discussing cuisine? To balance a dish, one adds a counterpoint. But to ask a person to sacrifice their essence to prolong my existence… that would be a life of cursed debt. I do not need a borrowed existence."

  [Xuè Lán]: "Stubborn child, I’m not talking about sacrifice! I’m talking about **blending**. A partnership. A… marriage."

  [Jian Zhi]: "Marriage? For what necessary purpose? To force compatibility between strangers for the sole function of reproduction? It introduces irrational variables. Drama. It is illogical to my life’s equation."

  [Xuè Lán]: "What are you saying? Lǐ Róng and I were strangers! But after marriage…" A genuine, warm smile touched her lips. "We found happiness. It comes with… benefits. You should consider the benefits. A soul to care for you, to love you. Who knows? She might even improve your efficiency, Mr Logical ."

  [Jian Zhi]: "Do you believe such a woman exists?"

  [Xuè Lán]: "Why wouldn’t she? I exist, don’t I? You’ve seen my capabilities—" She stopped, processing her own words. "Hey! Don’t you turn this around! Look, take off the glasses of pure logic. Your calculations fail in the face of chaos. I’m telling you to marry to complement your power and balance your elements so you stop dying."

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  [Jian Zhi]: "Are we even navigating the same reality? Cease this line of inquiry. I have work to do."

  At that moment, the doors to his study were thrown open with a force that cracked the silence. Wǎn Lù strode in, past a startled Xuè Lán, and came to a halt directly before Jian Zhi. Without a word, without hesitation, her arm swung.

  SLAP.

  The sound was shockingly loud, a percussive shockwave in the still room. Xuè Lán gasped. Jian Zhi’s head snapped to the side. He slowly turned back, his jaw clenched tight, the muscles in his neck cording. He rose to his full height, his eyes not furious, but chillingly cold—the flat, predatory gaze of the Mountain Devil assessing a threat.

  [Jian Zhi]: "Welcome back, Princess. [The words were ice shards] You will explain your action."

  [Wǎn Lù]: "You reckless, foolish bastard!" Her voice trembled not with fear, but with a fury born of witnessed agony. "Do you think what you did on that mountain was right? Do you think your mother looks down from the heavens with pride? Did you ever consider her perspective? Every time you shattered your fists on that tree, every time you broke your bones—you were hurting her heart. You were making her guilty for your suffering! You posture as a king, but you are a traumatised child! Grow up! Stop thinking like a nihilist who believes pain is the only truth!"

  For a fraction of a second, something fractured behind his dead eyes. Then, it was gone, replaced by something infinitely more dangerous. His hand shot out, not to slap her back, but to close around her throat. He lifted her, his grip iron, cutting off her air.

  [Jian Zhi]: "I did what was necessary to become strong," he hissed, his voice a low, venomous rumble. "And you will keep my mother’s name out of your mouth. If you ever speak of what you think you know to anyone… your death is assured. Do you understand?"

  [Wǎn Lù]: "[Gasping, clawing at his wrist] I… I… ca…n’t… you…" Stars burst at the edges of her vision. She drove a weak fist into his cheek, but it was like striking stone.

  [Xuè Lán]: "YOU IDIOT! RELEASE HER!"

  Xuè Lán slammed into him with all her strength, breaking his hold. Wǎn Lù collapsed to her knees, coughing violently, tears of pain and rage springing to her eyes.

  [Xuè Lán]: "[Furious, turning on them both] Have you lost your mind?! What did she say? Why would you try to kill her? Think! And you!" She whirled on Wǎn Lù. "What possessed you to strike him?!"

  [Wǎn Lù]: "[Between ragged coughs] I wanted… to slap the stupid boy… who thinks strength only comes from breaking himself… who doesn’t respect the elders who care for him! How can he be a king… when he’s still a wounded child inside?"

  [Xuè Lán]: She pressed her hands to her temples. "[A long, weary sigh] You two… are impossible. Jian Zhi. Tell me. What did you do on that mountain?"

  [Jian Zhi]: His voice was arctic, devoid of all emotion. "I trained my body to kill. I killed bandits. I fed them to my pets. It was a necessary function to become strong enough to protect the weak. You have seen me protect them. Have you not?"

  Xuè Lán stared at him. The sheer, clinical detachment in his answer was a blow worse than any violence. Her legs gave way, and she sank into a chair.

  [Xuè Lán]: "You… do you feel anything? Do you even understand why I nag you? Why do I care?"

  [Jian Zhi]: "[Dead eyes, a single slow nod] Mm. Because your behavioural patterns and risk assessment indicate you view me as a younger sibling. Your actions are consistent with a desire to preserve my health. That is the logical answer you seek. Is it not?"

  It was the most heartbreakingly accurate, utterly soul-crushing thing he could have said. Xuè Lán looked at him, speechless. The hope in her eyes died. Without another word, she stood and left the chamber, the sound of her retreating footsteps heavy with a disappointment more profound than anger.

  Alone with him again, Wǎn Lù pushed herself to her feet. "You… Mr Dead Eyes. Do you always reduce people’s hearts to calculations?" She held out her hand, palm up. "Come here."

  He eyed her, analysing the threat. Finding none, he stepped closer. "Touch my hand. Tell me what you feel."

  Puzzled but impassive, he complied. His fingers—the same hands that had beaten a tree to pulp, that had just tried to crush her throat—brushed against her palm. The skin was rough, calloused, utterly desensitised.

  [Jian Zhi]: "It is a human palm. What is the purpose of this?"

  Wǎn Lù’s Internal Monologue: He can’t feel how cold my skin is from the shock. He translates emotions into behavioural data. My god… is he a living statue? And what did Xuè Lán mean about his health? What is wrong with him?

  [Wǎn Lù]: "Nothing. I was merely assessing your capacity for gentleness." She withdrew her hand, turned, and walked from the room, each step measured, her mind a whirlwind of new, alarming questions.

  Alone in the aftermath, Jian Zhi stared at the door where she had vanished.

  Jian Zhi’s Internal Monologue: How did she acquire the data? The mountain does not speak. Unless… she spoke to the trees, the stones, or the beasts themselves. A princess of secrets. Very well. I will decrypt your layers, one by one. And I will return your… ‘gift.’