The Eastern Sky was silent.
Not the silence of peace, nor the calm of slumber — but a dense, aching stillness. The kind that weighed on the bones and settled in the lungs. A silence where even echoes refused to live.
Lian Qiao sat on a jade bench that glimmered faintly with ancient runes. Her soaked robes had dried instantly — divine warmth pulsing through the stones the moment she sat down. Her hair, once wild, now lay brushed and bound in a loose knot, thanks to a small spell cast by someone she hadn't even seen. No attendants had entered. No footsteps had echoed. And no doors had opened or closed.
Everything… simply was.
The room was vast, built from polished obsidian and pearl-tinted glass, with pillars shaped like dragon spines and a ceiling so high it looked like night itself had taken residence. It should have been beautiful.
But it was not.
It was perfect. And perfection, Lian Qiao decided, was terrifying.
Especially when paired with a man like him.
Mo Yujin stood at the far end of the hall, facing away from her. His hands were clasped behind his back, the folds of his black robe undisturbed by wind or breath. The room bent around him, not physically — but spiritually. Like the world knew he held power that predated even the stars outside.
Qiao had tried to fill the silence. Once.
"Sooo… is this a celestial detainment chamber or a fancy tea room?"
No answer.
"Because I have to say — it could use some tea. Maybe a nice chrysanthemum brew? Something to cut the—uh—existential dread?"
Still nothing.
After a long pause, she had given up.
Now, she simply watched him.
She had never seen someone so… still.
He hadn't moved for what felt like an eternity, and she was beginning to wonder if he had become a statue out of spite. What was he even doing? Praying? Meditating? Mentally rehearsing ways to vaporize her?
Then, at long last—
"You are unmarked."
His voice.
Smooth, cold. But this time—curious.
She blinked. "Huh?"
"You bear no divine crest. No family sigil. No spiritual origin seal."
Qiao shifted, suddenly self-conscious. "I-I wasn't born in the Celestial Court. I was raised in Peach Blossom Sect. Found on the banks of Mirror Lake. Master Bai said I must've dropped from the heavens like a forgotten dumpling."
A pause.
Yujin turned to face her — finally — and her breath caught.
Up close, he was even more unreal. Pale, immortal skin without blemish. Silver-blue eyes that held storms and ages. And a mouth that looked carved to frown, which made her want to poke it just to see if it could smile.
He walked toward her, slow and precise. Each step soundless.
She tried not to squirm.
"You are not from the heavens," he said quietly. "And yet, the stars did not reject you."
Qiao blinked. "Is that a good thing or a… banishable offense?"
He stared at her for one long moment, then tilted his head. "Your presence here triggered an ancient boundary seal. One only divine prophecy can breach."
"Wait." She stood. "Are you saying I'm a prophecy?"
"I am saying," he said evenly, "you do not belong here. And yet, the heavens permitted it."
She opened her mouth to speak—but then the world shivered.
A tremor in the air. A ripple of divine wind surged through the chamber like a pulse.
Yujin's expression hardened. "The High Council."
He turned toward a glowing orb hovering near the altar. It shimmered — a communication spell from the Celestial Court.
He stepped forward and touched it with two fingers. A voice echoed:
"Mo Yujin. Your silence has ended. You have awakened the realm's ancient field. What has disturbed the Eastern Sky?"
Yujin responded, his tone as cold as mountain frost. "A girl. A celestial in training."
"An intruder?"
"No." His gaze flicked to Qiao. "A messenger… or a mistake. I will discern which."
"The realms shift, Mo Yujin. Be wary of omens. Even the stars have begun to move."
The message cut out.
Lian Qiao gulped. "Did they just say… the stars are moving?"
Yujin turned back to her. His gaze unreadable. "Return to your sect. For now."
"Wait—you're letting me go?" she asked, surprised.
"For now," he repeated.
"But what if I fall into another ancient domain or activate more prophecies or—"
"You won't," he said simply.
Qiao blinked. "Why not?"
He raised one hand. A sigil blazed in midair. A spatial tether — elegant and complex.
"Because I will watch where you fall."
Her heart stuttered.
He flicked his fingers.
The room dissolved in light.
🌸 Meanwhile, in Peach Blossom Sect...
Master Bai was on his third bottle of peach wine and currently pacing in a circle around a smoking crater in the courtyard.
"I told her not to mix spell theory with snack breaks," he muttered.
Behind him, the other elders were shouting.
"She's vanished from the Sky Registry!"
"There was a divine fluctuation in the Eastern Sky!"
"Do you know what lives there?!"
"Nothing. That's what. Nothing and him!"
Master Bai swirled his wine gourd. "Well," he muttered, "if she is dead, I'd better lie and say she passed her trial early."
Then, a shimmer in the air.
A pop of peach-scented mist.
And there she was — Lian Qiao — falling back into the courtyard, looking dazed but entirely alive.
Master Bai blinked. "...Or I could just say she's chosen by fate. That sounds better."