Shadow Over the Heavenly Throne

Darkness cloaked the wooden terrace, and a thin mist drifted over the lake’s surface, giving the surroundings an almost ethereal quality. The air carried the scent of moisture—and something else, something heavy, an energy difficult to define. Rahn remained silent, sitting in the shadows, while Vaelin stared at the Masked Man, his eyes burning with fury.

"Where is that damn old man?!" he hissed, clenching his fists so tightly his nails nearly dug into his skin. "This time, I’ll show him who’s in charge! If he dares to call me a lizard again, I swear I’ll—!"

"Calm yourself." The voice was calm, yet left no room for defiance. The Masked Man didn’t even glance at him. "This is not the time to reveal ourselves. We must act from the shadows."

Vaelin gritted his teeth but didn’t answer immediately. Slowly, he relaxed his fingers and fell back onto the cushion, still breathing heavily. His tail—nearly invisible in this form—twitched slightly, as if eager to break free.

"I don’t like this," he muttered. "If I can take on a human form, why must I hide? I thought I was finally ready to face him."

"If we reveal now that monsters can assume humanoid forms, we lose a crucial advantage." The Masked Man tilted his head slightly, as if considering how to simplify something that was obvious to him. "Enemies cannot fight what they do not understand."

Vaelin shot him a sidelong glance but didn’t argue. He wasn’t in the mood to admit that it made sense.

"Focus on your cultivation." The Masked Man gestured toward the book lying beside him. "You still have much to learn."

Vaelin scoffed, picking it up begrudgingly. As he opened it, the lines of text seemed to pulse with dark light.

"I still don’t understand where you got this book," he murmured, running his fingers over the pages. "This technique… it’s designed for monsters. It’s a demonic path. This book is Demonic Cultivation Technique. You’re not one of us. So how in the world did a human create it?"

The Masked Man gave a faint smile—not that anyone could see it.

"Because I do not walk the path of humans."

Vaelin narrowed his eyes, but before he could press for answers, Rahn spoke up.

"I still can’t unify all the monsters in the Labyrinth into one." His voice was calm, but irritation lurked beneath the surface. "The technique is unstable. If I tried now, the result would be the same as last time—and as that battle showed, it was no real challenge for stronger cultivators."

The Masked Man was silent for a moment, as if weighing his words. Then, he raised his hand and traced his fingers across the table’s surface. From the mist before him, a black object emerged—it resembled a stone, yet its surface pulsed with an eerie, unsettling glow.

"We don’t need to create a new monster," he said slowly. "We only need to strip them of their power."

Vaelin and Rahn both turned their gazes to the stone simultaneously.

"What is that?" Vaelin asked, though he had a sinking feeling he wouldn’t like the answer.

"An artifact that will render the Qi in the Labyrinth useless to humans."

Silence fell over them.

"So you intend to force them to fight on our terms," Rahn nodded in approval. "Clever."

"This is only the beginning." The Masked Man tapped his fingers lightly against the table’s surface. "Now, it’s time to play the card I’ve been holding up my sleeve."

"A card?" Vaelin raised a brow.

The Masked Man’s smile returned.

"Envy."

Vaelin frowned, but Rahn looked intrigued.

"Long ago, before she became queen, Veynessa was engaged to someone else. He was from the Iron Dragon Sect. Their engagement was broken when she chose to marry the king."

Vaelin arched a brow.

"And? That’s ancient history."

"Indeed. But for that man, it wasn’t just the loss of a woman. It was a public humiliation. The Iron Dragon Sect lost prestige, and he himself lost face." The Masked Man tilted his head slightly. "Tell me, what happens when someone who has always been strong, always praised, always told they were the best, suddenly receives a very public slap in the face?"

Vaelin smirked as he began to see where this was going.

"I still doubt he’ll make a move. Not while Pharos is with them."

"We only need to separate them." The Masked Man raised his fingers, pausing in midair as if already envisioning his plan taking shape. "And then, we’ll see just how much of his old affection remains... and how much resentment he’s been suppressing all these years."

The silence that followed was heavy, almost tangible. After a moment, Rahn leaned back and exhaled.

"This might work."

Vaelin grinned widely.

"Now that’s what I call a real trap."

The Masked Man said nothing. He gazed into the distance, as if he could already see the events about to unfold.

The Mist Labyrinth would soon become a deadly cage.

***

Iron Dragon Sect

Heavy footsteps echoed against the stone walls of the corridor. A man wiped the sweat from his brow after an exhausting training session and made his way toward his private chambers. The moment he stepped inside, he halted abruptly.

A letter lay on his desk.

His brow furrowed. He hadn’t been expecting any messages. Moving cautiously, he approached, keeping his eyes fixed on the white envelope. Someone had left it here, but no one had the right to enter his room without permission.

Carefully, he tore the envelope open and unfolded the parchment. His eyes scanned the contents—and his entire body went rigid.

His fingers tightened around the paper so forcefully that it nearly tore apart.

Veynessa...

Her face, engraved in his memory like an unshakable seal, flashed before his eyes. His heartbeat quickened, warmth spreading through his body—but it wasn’t love. It was hatred, festering in his soul like a slow-acting poison. His grip on the parchment tightened, tension coiling in his muscles, threatening to snap. Blood pounded in his temples, each breath growing shorter, heavier.

One image filled his mind: the moment Veynessa turned her back on him, leaving him disgraced before the entire sect. The laughter, the whispers, the pitying glances. The helplessness that had overwhelmed him back then returned in full force—but this time, he wouldn’t be the one to kneel.

No.

This time, she would be the one to suffer.

His hand, almost instinctively, tore the letter in half. Then into quarters. Then into even smaller fragments, until the white scraps fell to the floor like ashes of burned dreams.

"At last... the day has come for me to reclaim what is rightfully mine."

***

A Few Days Later – At the Entrance to the Mist Labyrinth

Three travelers stood before the entrance to the Mist Labyrinth. The unchanged scenery of ruins, thick fog, and eerie silence did not raise any suspicions. Everything looked exactly as they remembered it.

"Shall we go in?" Calista asked, stretching slightly. "I hope we don’t end up wasting days wandering aimlessly."

"Ever the optimist." Pharos rolled his eyes. "Just remember—don’t separate unless absolutely necessary."

Without a word, Veynessa stepped past the threshold of mist, her figure slowly dissolving into the milky haze. Calista glanced at Pharos and smirked.

"Well then, let’s go," she said, stepping in after the queen.

The three of them entered the Labyrinth, unaware of what awaited them inside.