Yize's vibrant blue eyes widened, his breath hitching. "That can't be! Does anyone else know about this?"

"Only Lord Chaoxiang."

"The ruler of our realm millions of years ago? Before his cousin overtook the throne and became queen?"

"Yes. Before his death, he passed down the palimpsest of prophecy, hoping it might be stopped one day." Muchen's expression darkened. "According to it, an Astaran man and woman who wield great power will join forces and destroy us."

Yize swallowed hard, his composure faltering. "Astaran? This wickedness must be prevented."

Muchen nodded. "Lord Chaoxiang knew of the forbidden method, and as soon as the girl was born, he sent her away through a portal to an unknown world. He believed it was the only way to prevent their union... However, his toddler son followed her through the portal. Lord Chaoxiang tried to close the portal to prevent his son from disappearing, but to no avail... After losing his son, he was never the same. He lived in misery, and with his only son and heir gone, the glory of the Faerie Realm faded with him."

"So, Lord Chaoxiang was called the Mad King due to his son's disappearance? This is the first time I've heard of it. What about the girl? Since she's no longer in our world, there's no way for her to return."

"For now," Muchen uttered, his voice faltering as he averted his gaze. He clenched his fists, knuckles taut against the dark wood.

Yize hesitated, his gaze following Muchen's fingers drumming against the armrest. "What do you mean by 'for now,' my lord? These words fall heavy on my heart."

Muchen's cold, rigid eyes bore into the general's. "We once had no reason to worry about our realm's future, but now, with the man from the prophecy free, we are entering dark times. He is merely one step away from completely erasing our existence."

"The prophesied man is free? Do you mean Feng Deming, my lord? Is that why you kept him a secret so rigorously?"

Muchen's eyes narrowed. "It is not a secret anymore. We must be cautious from now on and prepare for his attack."

Yize stepped closer, his voice just above a whisper. "Is there a way to prevent this, my lord?"

"There is a way, but for now, we can only hope."

Yize's breath caught. "I trust your judgment, Lord Muchen." His fingers fidgeted with his cloak. "My lord, I forgot to ask—how did you know that Feng Deming was the man from the prophecy?"

Muchen sighed, studying Yize's uneasy face. He leaned forward, his tone sharp. "Ears everywhere, all the time. So watch what your little mouth says, Yize."

"I understand, my lord. You have my utmost devotion."

Muchen raised his chin, eyes narrowing as he traced Yize's trembling brows. "I am aware of your gentle nature, Yize... However, you must realize that I am counting on your strength. You are our strongest asset until the son arrives. We must not falter and lose our focus."

Yize bit his lip, shifting his weight as his hands trembled and his jaw clenched. Nonetheless, he pushed aside his fear and nodded. "Understood, my lord. We will be prepared when the time comes..." He turned to leave but hesitated. His shoulders tensed, and a frown creased his brow as curiosity took hold. "Before I leave, my lord, I wonder why the Astaran man and woman would join forces. You deem Feng Deming a monster, a man devoid of his feelings. He would never allow anyone a piece of his throne."

"That is what we hope for. If only they would kill each other for the throne of Astara." A smile curled Muchen's lips as he let out a low chuckle. "Although I lack complete knowledge of her current abilities, the fact that she has not returned suggests she is most likely weak and vulnerable now. However, we must not let our guard down."

Yize's expression hardened, his nod slow and deliberate. "Thank you, my lord, for trusting me. I will do what must be done."

Muchen gave a firm nod of approval, his gaze returning to the distant horizon. "Good. Prepare the troops. We must be ready for their return," his voice echoed through the grand hall.

~*~

Ningshun stood beneath the hot shower spray, desperately seeking solace in the rhythm of water hitting his skin and running down the contours of his chest. The steam filled the air, but he felt as if the heat radiated from within him. His heart pounded hard against his ribs, yearning to break free.

The warmth of the water should have been comforting, but his mind was anything but at ease. He could not control his emotions, rattled by his interactions with Meilin. His mind drifted back to her warm breath brushing against his cheek as his face came so close that he could almost taste the sweet tension, her lips mere inches away.

"No, no way," he muttered, his voice low and raspy as the intensifying tension clung to him.

The uninvited image of her flooded back, recalling when she whispered, "Wow..." as her foxy eyes gazed at him, roaming over his face. Pondering its meaning quickened his pulse and shallowed his breaths.

"I've never had..." he whispered, cutting himself off, breaking the cycle of each inhale that drew vivid images into his mind. "No, just no. She's my teammate. I can't allow this. It's just a temporary feeling. It'll pass..."

With a firm grip, he twisted the faucet to its coldest setting and gasped as the icy water ran down his sculpted back and broad shoulders, sending shockwaves through his body. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sharp coldness, hoping it would wash away the intense feelings burning inside him that threatened to overwhelm him.

After a moment, Ningshun forced himself to refocus, taking a deep breath as he turned off the water. "Good thing I left," he whispered, a sigh of relief escaping him. "I can't let this mess with my head."