Monie_Odyssey

Once hailed as a prodigy of the Great Yan Kingdom, Prince Zhang Se was destined for greatness—until a mysterious curse shattered his future. His Qi meridians were sealed, stripping him of his power and casting him into irrelevance. His father, the mighty king, discarded him. His brothers rejoiced in his fall. Only his younger sister, Mei Lian, still saw him as more than a failure.

But when tragedy struck and Mei Lian was taken from him, Zhang Se learned the cruelest lesson of all: The weak cannot protect anyone.

Now, years later, Zhang Se walks a path filled with shadows and blood, determined to defy fate itself. Haunted by his past, burdened by the weight of his weakness, he must navigate the treacherous world of assassins, warlords, and power-hungry rulers. But as an ancient darkness stirs and the battle for the throne looms, Zhang Se faces a choice—will he remain the fallen prince the world has written off, or will he tear through his curse and reclaim his destiny?

In a world where power is everything, how far will he go to rise again?

Shadow of the Fallen Prince

Zhang Se's breath came in ragged gasps. His fingers clenched around the hilt of his sword, sweat and blood slipping between his knuckles. His body screamed in protest, his muscles aching from every parry, every desperate block.

The assassin stood before him, poised and effortless, twin dark swords humming with malicious Qi. His every movement was fluid, precise, calculated. A predator toying with prey.

Zhang Se's single sword felt heavy in his grip. His arms trembled—not just from exhaustion, but from weakness.

He couldn't conjure his Qi beyond his body. The cursed shackles bound him, restricting what once came effortlessly.

A dark chuckle. "Struggling?" The assassin's voice was mocking, his lips curling in amusement. "How pathetic. Once hailed as a prodigy, now you can barely lift your own blade."

Zhang Se grit his teeth, lifting his sword just in time to block—

The force behind the strike was brutal. Zhang Se's arms numbed instantly, his knees buckling slightly. The assassin pressed forward, twisting his wrist. A second blade flashed—

Zhang Se barely twisted his body, the dark Qi blade slicing across his shoulder, searing pain tearing through his nerves.

He staggered back, his vision darkening for half a second before he forced himself to focus.

The assassin didn't even look impressed.

"Tch." He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You're still standing? I suppose old habits die hard."

Zhang Se wiped the blood from his lips. His heart pounded—not just from the fight, but from the gnawing worry.

They were fighting behind him. He could hear the echoes of their battle—the eerie, sharp notes of the flute cutting through the air, Bai Ren's gritted breaths, Wei's golden Qi crackling.

His grip tightened around his sword. He had to end this.

Zhang Se lunged forward, blade slicing toward the assassin's neck—

The assassin didn't even flinch. His second sword lashed out. Zhang Se barely twisted in time, the edge of the blade grazing his ribs.

Zhang Se gasped as a heavy kick slammed into his stomach.

His body lurched backward, feet skidding across the ground. The taste of iron filled his mouth, his vision swaying.

He blinked, forcing himself to remain upright.

A deep gash tore through his side.

He barely bit back a cry, staggering, clutching his wound as fresh blood seeped through his robes.

The assassin landed gracefully, twirling his swords lazily. "You're getting slower," he mused, eyes gleaming with cruel delight. "Is it the curse? Or are you simply that weak now?"

Zhang Se didn't answer. He couldn't waste his breath.

Instead, he forced himself back into stance, sword raised.

The assassin sighed. "Still resisting. Fine. I'll break you properly."

Zhang Se's gaze flickered past him.

For a split second, he glanced toward Wei.

Her golden Qi—gone. Her body—motionless.

Bai Ren, injured and bloodied, beside her.

A hollow emptiness spread through Zhang Se's chest.

Like something inside him had shattered.

His fingers trembled. His vision blurred.

The assassin's blade flashed toward him.

Chapter 10: Shackles of the Past