Chu Ying turned away from the window, her robes brushing softly against the cold jade floor. Her gaze landed on the weeping girl seated upon her throne.
She approached gently, as though trying not to startle her.
"Yao Yao," she said softly, "what do you think of him?"
Chu Yao's tear-soaked face looked up. Her voice trembled, her lips quivered.
"I… I don't want to marry him, Mother."
Her voice cracked.
"He treats women like toys! That girl with him—Mu Meilin—she's as beautiful as I am, and yet he calls her a concubine. Do you really think he'll respect me? Or this sect?"
" I will be just one of his play thing after marriage."
Chu Ying's expression remained composed, but her eyes shimmered with pain.
"Yao Yao… it's time."
Chu Yao blinked, confused. "Time?
Time for what?"
Chu Ying looked away, her voice dropping lower—heavy, reluctant, and… final.
"I'm not your real mother."
The words struck like thunder across the snowy mountains.
Chu Yao stiffened.
"What… What are you saying?"
"Mother."
"I'm not your biological mother," Chu Ying repeated, her voice steady but filled with sorrow. "I was your mother's maid. That's all."
Silence. The grand hall seemed to shrink around them.
Chu Ying sat across from her and began to explain—the true origins of Chu Yao, the forbidden union between a fallen princess of the Central Region's Great Yan Kingdom and a mysterious cultivator from the Upper Realm.
The escape to the Northern Wastes. The night of Chu Yao's birth. The letter sealed with divine qi.
The servant's oath that bound her fate to one command.
Then she held it out—the letter, trembling in her hand.
Chu Ying handed the letter to her daughter, her expression unreadable.
But just as Chu Yao reached out to take it, her eyes froze. The words on the letter—bold, uneven—were written in a dark crimson hue.
"This… is blood," Chu Yao whispered, her voice barely audible.
Her hands were trembling but she reached out to take that letter.
The moment Chu Yao touched it, her blood pulsed violently. Red symbols bloomed across the sheep skin letter, responding to her essence.
From within the letter, a faint feminine soul emerged. Imperial, proud, and cold.
"Yao Yao, my little child."
The voice echoed in her mind like a melody from a forgotten dream.
"Everything she said is true. Chu Ying is my maid, bound by a heavenly oath. And now it's your turn… You must marry Wu Ming, even if you become nothing more than a concubine."
"No—"
"Listen to me. Once you consummate the marriage, you will receive a hidden gift—something you cannot imagine. If possible get pregnant before coming to the upper realms. That night will change everything. After that… you will know why."
The spectral voice softened for a moment. Then, it turned sharp again.
"After your wedding… Ruin that woman."
"Chu Ying…?" Chu Yao asked faintly.
"Yes. She raised you, but make no mistake—she is a slave. Here is a spell—cast it on her. It will brand her with demonic energy. Once the elders discover it, they'll strip her of her cultivation and cast her out. Let her rot in the gutter. Just don't kill her."
"But Mother, why don't we just kill her after her cultivation is stripped?"
"The Heaven's Oath," she replied coldly.
"Mother....what is this Oath ? Chu Ying also mentioned this before."
"An oath is a sacred contract. In our royal kingdom, whenever we hire a maid or servant, the servant swears loyalty to their master, and in return, the master swears never to harm them."
"It's a mutually binding oath, quite popular. Once the servants retire, they're free to live their own lives. But this kind of oath cannot be broken. Not without severe consequences."
"We can't endure its punishment, especially in the lower realms. So remember—never harm her. Not directly, not indirectly."
"Mother, if I cast a spell on her... wouldn't that count as breaking the oath?"
"Not really," she said calmly.
"This particular spell originates from the Upper Realms and merely taints the target with a demonic aura for a few seconds upon activation. It causes no harm—in fact, it slightly enhances the target's senses. As such, it does not violate the Heaven's Oath. Spells from the Upper Realms can subtly manipulate the laws of the Lower Realms."
" The same way, these spells are in ineffective in upper realms they cannot manipulate the laws of upper realms."
" Got it."
A dark spell scroll appeared in Chu Yao's hand, vanishing into her sleeve.
"Good. Reach the Upper Realm as soon as possible. Once you do… you and Wu Ming will stand at the pinnacle. Our bloodline must rise. You will become immortal."
The soul dissipated, leaving only cold silence.
Chu Yao slowly returned to her senses, golden light fading from her eyes.
When she looked at Chu Ying again, the softness in her face had vanished.
She stood up and walked toward the throne with confidence and arrogance, her steps deliberate. Then she sat down.
Her voice was calm… but icy.
"Go to the Holy Son and arrange my marriage."
Chu Ying froze.
"Satisfy all his conditions," Chu Yao continued. "Even if he asks for your life."
Then she smiled.
"Do it. Don't disappoint your mistress."
Chu Ying's breath caught. Her heart twisted.
"Yao Yao… you…"
"GO!" Chu Yao snapped. "Don't make me repeat myself. Do your final duty. And once it's done… you're free."
She paused. Her next words dripped with venom.
"Go, hurry bitch."
Chu Ying flinched.
That word—that one word—shattered something inside her more than any sword ever could.
Once called "mother"... now nothing but a bitch.
Chu Ying stood quietly, her gaze distant.
She was wrong—utterly wrong.
She had believed that Chu Yao might show sympathy after learning the truth—that she was not her real mother, but merely a maid who had raised her. She thought the bond they shared would endure.
Yet despite it all, Chu Ying had loved Chu Yao as her own. Nurtured her. Protected her. Given her everything a mother could.
And this… was her reward.
She stood up stiffly, lowering her head for the first time to someone younger.
"…Yes, Miss."
She bowed.
Not as a Matriarch.
But as a servant.
As she turned and walked away, something strange happened—beneath her collar, a faint black mark bloomed at the base of her neck, like a brand etched by fate itself. She didn't notice.
But Chu Yao did.
She leaned back on the throne and laughed softly.
"Ha… hahaha… Chu Ying, do you really think you'll be free?"
Her voice echoed like poison in the cold hall.
"A slave lives for their master… and dies for their master."
"This will be your last and.....final task of your life."
"Hahahaha."
[To be Continued.]