CHAPTER 67: "DON’T LOSE YOUR TEMPER."

AN: Happy FriYay! So sorry for the delay. Happy reading!!

Jian Rui adjusted Jian Ci’s collar with practiced precision, his fingers brushing the fine embroidery stitched into the ceremonial fabric.

"Don’t lose your temper," he said quietly, his voice low but firm. "No matter how much he tries to antagonize you. He is just trying to get under your skin, make you reveal something."

Jian Ci exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. "Fine. I will keep my emotions in check."

Across the room, Jian Wei stepped back from the scanner, the diagnostic panel flickering with results. "It’s still A rank," he confirmed. "He won’t know."

"Good," Jian Rui said, nodding once. He turned to Jian Ci, his expression sharpening. "If you feel threatened, tap your pendant. We will get out of there immediately."

"Okay," Jian Ci replied, his voice steady, but his fingers brushed the pendant at his chest, as if to reassure himself it was still there.

Jian Rui looked at him for a long moment, the worry in his eyes barely concealed. Then he straightened. "Alright. Let’s go."

Jian Wei packed up the equipment swiftly, and Jian Rui deactivated the psychic shield that had cloaked the room in silence and secrecy.

As Jian Ci had once said, This was a den of beasts and monsters. One had to be careful. And tonight, they were walking straight into it.

***

The three brothers entered the hall, and the shift in atmosphere was immediate. Conversations dulled, heads turned, and a ripple of attention followed their every step. Jian Ci, flanked by Jian Rui and Jian Wei, walked with the poise expected of a prince, though his eyes betrayed his discomfort.

Officials approached swiftly, their smiles polished, their congratulations rehearsed. They praised Jian Ci’s coming of age, offered blessings, and, more pointedly, introduced their guides. Young, elegant, and clearly selected for compatibility. The intentions were thinly veiled.

Jian Rui and Jian Wei played their roles with finesse, exchanging pleasantries and maintaining the illusion of cordiality. Jian Ci, however, responded with clipped words and curt nods, his patience thinning with each introduction.

Jian Rui felt it then, a gaze like ice trailing him. He didn’t need to turn. He knew it was Stannis. The man stood across the hall, his expression carved from stone, eyes sharp and hollow like a predator waiting for weakness. A cold-faced demon, Jian Rui thought, who wanted to devour his soul.

Soon, they reached the front of the hall, awaiting the arrival of Imperial Lord Thaurion.

Lord Leung approached with the grace of a seasoned politician, bowing slightly with his daughter Alarna at his side. Alarna met Jian Ci’s gaze, her smile subtle. "Greetings, Your Highnesses," he said, voice smooth as silk.

Jian Rui, Jian Wei, and Jian Ci returned the greeting with practiced civility.

Turning to Jian Ci, Lord Leung offered a warm smile. "Happy birthday, Your Highness. A fine age to come into your own."

"Thank you," Jian Ci replied, his tone neutral.

The older man launched into a nostalgic monologue about youth, marriage, and the importance of settling down early. "At your age, one should already be considering partners. It’s tradition, after all."

Jian Rui kept the conversation polite, nodding and smiling, unaware that Stannis had silently moved closer behind them.

Stannis, never one to hold his tongue, interrupted with a voice like a blade. "You are one to talk, old man. How many wives have you had already? Or rather, how many mistresses are you hiding?"

Lord Leung froze. "..."

The Jian brothers blinked. "..."

Alarna’s eyes darkened, her smile vanishing. Stannis took a leisurely sip of wine, looking smug. "He’s busy playing matchmaker instead of restraining his harem. Last I heard, your ex-wife and current wife pulled each other’s extensions out in public."

Jian Rui’s jaw tightened. He turned and glared, not at Stannis, but at his deputy marshal, who looked like he wanted to vanish into the floor.

Vince was so terrified by the look Jian Rui gave him that he grabbed Stannis by the arm and dragged him away, muttering apologies under his breath. But Stannis, ever defiant, kept his gaze locked on Jian Rui, eyes sharp and unrelenting. The message was clear: If you dare accept a marriage proposal, I will raise hell.

Jian Rui exhaled and turned back to Lord Leung. "Sorry about that."

Lord Leung smiled awkwardly, adjusting his sleeves. "No, no. Marshal Stannis is known for not holding his tongue."

What Lord Leung couldn’t understand was why he had drawn the ire of such a volatile figure. Stannis was too powerful to confront directly, and his reputation for ruthless retaliation made most officials tread carefully.

Yet here he was, targeted without warning. Lord Leung had done nothing, at least nothing he could recall, that warranted such vengeance.

He turned to Jian Ci, trying to recover the moment. "I heard you and my daughter have met."

Jian Ci glanced at Alarna, who was still watching him with quiet intensity. He looked away. "Yes. We have met a couple of times."

"You are attending the same academy," Lord Leung continued. "May I trouble Your Highness to look out for her? She’s my only precious daughter."

Jian Ci opened his mouth, ready to say I am not a babysitter, but Jian Rui, anticipating the rudeness, pinched his arm.

Jian Rui smiled. "He will. Right, Ah-Ci?"

Jian Ci forced a smile. "Sure."

Alarna lowered her head shyly, lips parting to speak when the grand doors opened.

An announcer stepped forward. "His Majesty, the Imperial Lord Thaurion!"

The ceremonial hall fell into reverent silence as the great doors parted.

Imperial Lord Thaurion entered, his presence eclipsing the golden light that spilled across the marble floor. He wore royal regalia of dazzling white and gold—robes embroidered with celestial sigils that shimmered with latent power, his mantle trailing behind him like a comet’s tail.

A circlet of psi-forged crystal gleamed on his brow, refracting light into a soft halo that crowned his head with divine authority.

Beside him walked his newest concubine, Lina, radiant in traditional attire from the Republic of Elaris. Her gown was a cascade of layered silks, embroidered with silver thread and adorned with delicate chains that chimed softly with each step.

Behind them followed five other concubines, each stunning in their own right, draped in opulent fabrics, adorned with rare jewels, their expressions poised and unreadable. Their children trailed behind in ceremonial garb, miniature reflections of imperial lineage.