A princess without allies

Rin sat beneath the crimson canopy of the sect's courtyard garden, twirling a thin jade flute between her fingers. The flute had never made a single note. It wasn't meant to. It was an heirloom—a reminder from her father: "Keep your music in silence. Let others sing their plans aloud."

Right now, that flute felt more like a weight in her hand than a lesson.

The sun was dipping behind the eastern spires of the Holy Saint Sect. A breeze carried the scent of medicinal herbs, cherry blossom, and cold steel from the sparring grounds. And yet, Rin wasn't thinking of cultivation. Her thoughts were wrapped in something far more dangerous.

Yan Zhi.

Yan Qing's grandmother.

A name Rin had only learned a few days ago—but a name that now haunted her every waking hour.

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Schemes in Silence

Rin had caught whispers in the hallways. She wasn't deaf or stupid. Servants gossiped, inner disciples bragged, and even elders occasionally dropped names when they assumed the princess wasn't paying attention.

But this time, it wasn't about her father. Or her brothers.

It was about Ash.

A boy of no family, no wealth, and no name—yet suddenly he was the target of hidden forces and veiled plans.

> "Yan Zhi wants to tie Ash to her family."

"She's already spoken to Qing'er."

"They want his strength… to climb higher."

Rin clenched her jaw.

Her entire life had been surrounded by cunning adults who plotted and maneuvered for power—at court, at sects, in alliances. She'd seen nobles turn friends into spies and love into leashes.

And now, here it was again.

Another game.

Another pawn.

Only this time… the pawn wasn't unaware.

This time… the pawn fought back.

---

An Unwinnable Game?

Rin stood up abruptly and walked toward the lotus pond. Her boots crushed gravel. Her fists were tight.

> "I should've made my move earlier."

She hated admitting it, but Yan Zhi was smarter. Wiser. More experienced. Rin could barely hold her own in sword sparring with elite disciples—what hope did she have in this kind of political duel?

A teenager trying to outmaneuver a woman who'd played these games for forty years?

It was ridiculous.

> "But I won't give up."

She whispered it to herself.

She could still try. Still disrupt the plan. She didn't have to be better—she just had to be faster. And bolder.

She walked in circles, thinking. Plotting.

She didn't love Ash. She barely knew him. But she respected him—and more than that, she saw his value.

He was a climbing star, the kind of cultivator who didn't come around often. And if she lost her chance to ally with him now, she would forever be at the mercy of her brothers and their factions.

> "If Yan Qing wins him over… her entire family climbs."

"And if that happens, I lose more than a potential ally. I lose the race."

She wasn't dumb enough to believe Ash would play along with schemes. He'd already proven he didn't trust easily. He stayed distant. Dismissive.

He didn't want to get involved in court affairs. He didn't want to become a pawn.

> But what if he didn't have to be a pawn?

What if I treated him as an equal?

---

A Letter That Never Sends

Back in her quarters, Rin sat at her writing table, dipped her brush into black ink, and wrote slowly:

> Ash,

I've thought of many things since the hunt. Perhaps too many. I know I've been annoying. Immature. Arrogant. I'm still learning how to be better. But if you ever feel the need for someone to watch your back—not because of orders, or obligation, or schemes—just because it's necessary—then let it be me. I have no need to tie you with favors. But I do need to win.

I think you understand that kind of need.

Her brush paused at the final sentence.

She read it three times. Frowned.

Then, after a long moment… she crumpled the paper and threw it into the flame of her nearby lantern.

No.

It sounded too desperate.

Too emotional.

And more than that—Ash wouldn't respond to letters.

> He only respects action.

He respects power.

He respects those who walk beside him, not behind.

---

A Path She Hated

Rin opened a locked chest beside her bed. Inside were three scrolls, each sealed with a different sigil.

One from her uncle—a high-ranking elder in the Iron Spear Sect.

One from her cousin—captain of the northern border army.

And one from her father—King Zhou himself.

Each scroll contained offers.

Allies. Training. Influence.

Each could take her further in her cultivation and give her leverage to match her brothers.

But the price?

Obedience.

Loyalty.

And worst of all—a chain around her freedom.

> "They want me to choose a path they've built for me."

She stared at the scrolls, then slowly shut the chest.

> "No."

If Ash was carving his own path with blood, spirit, and will—then so could she.

And if she wanted his respect, his alliance, even his trust—

—then she'd have to earn it, not beg for it.

---

A Spark of Strategy

That night, Rin didn't sleep.

Instead, she called a shadow courier—one of the personal spies she'd inherited from her late mother. Only three knew she still kept them.

The man in black knelt at her side, silent as death.

> "I want everything you can find on Yan Zhi," Rin said calmly. "Who she speaks to. What she offers. Who she threatens. And how many people she pays to whisper in the sect."

> "...Understood."

> "Also—find out where Ash goes during late night cultivation. But be subtle. He must not know."

> "And what do I report back, Princess?"

She stared at the flickering lantern beside her. Her voice was low.

> "When I figure out what kind of ally I need to be... you'll be the first to know."

The man bowed, then vanished into the shadows.

Rin exhaled.

> "I may not win this time, Yan Zhi…"

"But I won't lose without fighting first."

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