Arrival of the Princess

Two days had passed.

In the heart of Tan City, chaos erupted like wildfire.

Servants sprinted through marble halls, guards barked orders across the courtyards, and carriages clattered over stone-paved roads as the entire city fell into frenzied preparation. The atmosphere was thick with tension—panicked voices echoed, tools dropped, and footsteps thundered from every direction.

"HURRY! MOVE! YOU—POLISH THAT WALL! AND WHERE THE HELL IS MY SON?!"

A furious roar shook the inner court.

The one shouting was City Lord Tan Ji, veins bulging on his temple, his usually composed face twisted in a rare, wild panic.

Just moments ago, he had received a message from the Que Dynasty—one of the strongest forces in the entire western region of this mortal plane.

According to the missive, the 16th Princess would arrive at Tan City within the hour.

Upon hearing this, Lord Tan Ji had nearly spit blood from shock.

"WHERE IS TAN SHAO!! WHERE IS MY SON!!"

He screamed again, his robes fluttering behind him as he stormed across the courtyard.

A trembling guard rushed over, his voice hesitant. "M-My lord… Young Master Tan Shao is currently at the verge of a breakthrough…"

"SO?! JUST BRING HIM HERE!"

The guard flinched hard, his armor rattling under the sheer pressure of the Lord's voice. Sweat rolled down his temple. Even with the princess's arrival, interrupting a cultivator's breakthrough was an unforgivable act—it could cause Qi deviation, permanent damage, or even cripple a cultivator's future entirely.

And if he disrupted Young Master Tan's breakthrough… well, that grudge wouldn't be easily forgotten.

Just then, a deep and unimpressed voice echoed from the side.

"Brother," said Tan Mu, the younger sibling of the City Lord, stepping out in his formal blue robes. "You're losing your mind over a 16th princess. Don't tell me you've forgotten how these dynasties work?"

He folded his arms. "She's like the Thirtieth child. In powerful families like the Que, after the first few heirs, the rest are practically political tools. They're used for marriage alliances—nothing more."

Lord Tan Ji's face flushed with even deeper rage.

"You F—! You pig-headed fool! How many slut have you slept with this decade to still not know the rumors!?"

Tan Mu raised an eyebrow. "What rumors?"

"There's a high possibility that the 16th Princess is none other than… Divine Healer Que Lin!!"

"WHAT!!?!"

Meanwhile, somewhere deep within the suffocating hollow pit beneath Tan City…

Xiao Yang's eyes slowly opened, a sharp stab of pain greeting him as if every nerve in his body had just been reawakened. His back arched involuntarily, and his muscles tensed to the point of trembling. But miraculously enough his body had healed enough and his condition was just like the first time he opened his eyes in the cage.

Ding!

[Due to unknown reasons, the host's Enlightenment failed.]

His brow twitched.

'Enlightenment…?' The word struck something faint in his memory as if it held importance… but like so many things since he woke up in this world, its meaning remained blurry. And worse—he couldn't remember a single detail about what had happened during that time.

He groaned and slowly pushed himself upright. A dizzy wave washed over him, but amidst the disorientation, one thing was clear:

"This feeling… it's getting stronger."

Shutting his eyes once more, he let his breath steady and allowed instinct to take over. At that moment, as if following a muscle memory he didn't know he had, his body began to draw in Qi from the stagnant air.

The flow wasn't faster than before… but it felt natural as if his body had started to remember even more.

"IMPOSSIBLE!!"

A sudden shout came not from Xiao Yang—but from across the cages.

The middle-aged man, his future opponent, was on his feet—eyes bulging in horror and continued to yell even more.

"How!!? How the hell is he awake already?!"

The other prisoners, who had been deep in cultivation or resting, were jolted awake as the tremors reverberated through their cages.

"What the—again?! That bastard?!"

"He's trying to slow our progress!"

"Damn it! Someone shut this middle-aged man up before I do!"

Chaos spread like wildfire.

The underground prison, already brimming with volatile cultivators, turned into a cacophony of curses and furious roars.

Meanwhile, the middle-aged man stood completely still, his gaze locked on Xiao Yang's trembling form. From their angles, most prisoners couldn't even see Xiao Yang, as the visibility between cages was intentionally limited—except between opponents. That way, every fighter could see the person they were meant to face.

Angry mutters resumed, but the middle-aged man didn't even care for them. His eyes were wide, filled with disbelief.

"Just… how?!" he whispered.

'For a Spirit Elementary cultivator, no matter how gifted, he should've been out cold for at least a week! I've seen it! I've lived it! And yet…'

His fists clenched as he took in the impossible sight before him. Last time, Xiao Yang had woken up after three days—and that was when his injuries were far less severe. But now? Now, he looked even worse, and still, his eyes had opened like some cursed machine refusing to shut down.

Then, without warning, Qi began to swirl once more.

The gathered energy that had lingered in the air seemed to pause—then surged toward Xiao Yang's body again.

And that's when it started all over.

A fresh wave of invisible needles pierced through his body. His bones groaned. His internal organs trembled. Tiny, near-microscopic holes began tearing across every part of him.

The pain was beyond anything human.

The middle-aged shivered at the sight. This wasn't cultivation—it was self-destruction. And the holes this time were expanding faster. His skin cracked open. His muscles twitched erratically. Then—

Crack.

Even his teeth began to fracture.

Finally, he could no longer hold it in.

"ARGGHHHHHHHH!!!"

A scream—raw, guttural, and filled with unbearable agony—ripped through the hollow pit.

This time, no one cursed. No one sneered.

Instead, a suffocating silence fell upon the chambers. A few shivered, unable to even guess what could cause a human to make such a sound.

Meanwhile, the middle-aged man gritted his teeth, horror, and awe warring in his expression.

"He's insane… he's truly insane!!"

He kept muttering the same words, watching with growing unease as Xiao Yang's body once again collapsed to the ground with a dull thud.

His body was torn, pocked with tiny holes, his face pale, and blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. But even in unconsciousness—his limbs still twitched, trembling violently from pain, instinctively.

Meanwhile, outside the city gates, the City Lord and nobles stood in a respectful, tense silence.

the princess could arrive at any moment. Then, heavy footsteps echoed from the side.

A young man nearly reaching his twenties approached with an irritated scowl on his face. His presence alone was enough to make several of the nearby officials hold their breath.

No one dared to speak.

They had seen Tan Shao's fury before—and they knew better than to provoke him when he looked like this.

He walked straight toward his father, fists clenched by his sides. Then, with a brief bow, he stood a respectful distance behind him.

'Damn it! I failed to breakthrough!' he cursed inwardly, gritting his teeth. 'And for what? Because of some so-called princess?!'

His eyes burned with frustration, not just at the royalty who delayed his cultivation, but also at his father, who had dared to pull him away at such a crucial moment.

Still, he held his tongue.

Minutes passed. From the horizon, a group of people began to appear. The tension that had built like a coiled spring surged in a wave.

But—

As their figures became clear, disappointment followed. Just a group of traveling cultivators, A few minutes later, another group appeared… and another.

At first, the nobles welcomed the rising activity. Their anticipation only grew with each group that passed.

But then—time began to stretch.

An hour passed. Then another.

And with each tick of the sun, their excitement shifted… into annoyance.

Even the City Lord's confident smile began to falter. He glanced toward the distant horizon, again and again, brows furrowing deeper with each glance.

Whispers began to stir. Servants exchanged worried looks.

Two hours.

Still, no princess.

And though no one dared to voice it out loud, the same thought echoed silently in every mind present:

"Just where the hell is the princess?"