The Rise of a Shadow

Survival was never an accident. It was a choice, a strategy, a carefully played game. Ling Xuefeng had been playing it long before anyone realized.

After her father's fall, the Ling family did not crumble completely—but it was no longer the untouchable force it once was. The Emperor had not wiped them out, nor had he stripped them of their titles. Instead, he had done something far worse: He had left them weakened, vulnerable, bleeding but alive. And in the imperial court, weakness was a death sentence.

The siblings who remained fought among themselves, each believing they could salvage what was left of the Ling name. Xuefeng knew better. She had no interest in salvaging the past. She was already looking to the future.

Her mother, Lady Ling Yue, was the only one who understood. "Do not waste time mourning the dead," she told Xuefeng one night. "Do not waste time saving what is broken. Build something new."

And so, she did.

She did not fight for the family name. Instead, she fought for herself. She made herself indispensable, weaving her way into circles of influence. She listened, she whispered, she played on fears and ambitions alike.

But knowledge alone was not enough. She needed protection, a patron, someone who could shield her while she sharpened her claws. That was when she met Lord Yan Qian.

The Minister of War was not a man of honor. He was a man of ambition, of greed. But he recognized potential when he saw it. He took Xuefeng under his wing, not as a daughter, but as a tool—a blade he could shape and wield.

Under his guidance, she learned the intricacies of war, not on the battlefield, but in the court. She studied military tactics, learned to read reports and predict movements before they happened. She memorized the names of every general, every noble with influence, every weakness that could be exploited.

By the time she was twenty, she was no longer just Ling Xuefeng. She had become something else entirely—the Phantom Phoenix, a woman whose name was whispered in the halls of power but never spoken too loudly.

It was under Lord Yan Qian's watchful eye that she met Zhao Wuyuan, the Crown Prince.

He had been arrogant then, still believing in the righteousness of his bloodline. But Xuefeng had seen something in him—doubt. And doubt was a seed that, if planted correctly, could grow into something useful.

She began to shape him, ever so subtly. A word here, a question there. Making him question those closest to him, making him trust her just a little more than he should.

And now, as she sat across from him at the banquet, watching his grip tighten around his goblet, she saw it—the fear, the uncertainty.

The past had forged her. The present belonged to her. And the future?

That, too, would be hers to claim.

Outside, the storm continued to rage. But Ling Xuefeng merely smiled.