Lysa’s hands were still trembling as she finished picking up the last shard of the broken plate. Every movement felt like dragging her body through fire.The head maid’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her like a predator inspecting wounded prey.“You call that cleaning?” she snapped. “Pathetic. You think that excuses your clumsiness? You think a few drops of blood and a pile of shards can erase your incompetence?”Lysa’s lips quivered. She opened her mouth to explain, but words failed her.“No excuses!” the head maid barked. “You will feel what failure truly means.”Before Lysa could react, the maid turned toward the other maids, her voice sharp and commanding.“Teach her. Make her understand. She is not a child—she is a servant in this house. Every mistake must be punished!”Two maids stepped forward hesitantly, glancing at each other as if unsure.“Do it!” the head maid shouted, her patience gone. “If she survives this, perhaps she’ll remember her place!”Lysa tried to defend herself,

The wind on the hospital rooftop howled like a restless spirit,above there, a lone figure stood at the edge of the roof, robes snapping violently in the wind. His hands were clenched, nails digging into his palms until blood seeped through.The cultivator assassin trembled with rage.He could still feel it.The lashes.The burning agony of the external cane striking his back again and again.One thousand strokes.Each one a reminder of his failure.Each one a promise that the next failure would mean something worse.His eyes burned red as he stared down at the hospital entrance.“She should have died,” he hissed. “The knife never fails. It never spares. And yet… she lives. And she got saved again”His breathing grew ragged.The humiliation gnawed at him.The image of his master’s cold eyes.The punishment chamber.The whispers of other cultivators watching him fall.And the decree—Twenty-one days to kill Ryan Adrian Cole.Or face annihilation.His fists shook violently.“That man… t

The healing pit was silent except for the assassin’s ragged breathing.His body lay half-submerged in black medicinal water that burned like fire and froze like ice. Each wound closed slowly, painfully, refusing him the mercy of unconsciousness.He wanted to faint.He couldn’t.That was part of the punishment.Footsteps echoed.He didn’t need to look.Leon had returned.The guards bowed and stepped back.Leon stood at the edge of the pit, staring down at him.For a long moment, he said nothing.Then quietly,“Do you know whose life you tried to waste?”The assassin swallowed blood.“A child,” he whispered.Leon’s eyes hardened.“No,” he said. “Not just a child.”The assassin trembled.Leon continued slowly, voice heavy with ancient authority,“That boy… is the only thing keeping his mother alive.”The assassin blinked weakly.Leon went on,“She cried for years. Years. She went from one temple to another, kneeling until her knees bled. She begged Heaven for a child.”The chamber grew s

The sun had barely risen, casting faint, golden rays across the temple’s stone walls, but Princess Elowen remained undisturbed, her face serene despite the cold stillness surrounding her. She was immobile, frozen in time—not by her own will, but by a curse too strong to break. Yet, in a place where destiny should have been as certain as the stars, her fate continued to shift, stubbornly resisting the power that bound her.Inside the quiet chamber, where the air was thick with the scent of incense and ancient prayers, Leon stood, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had been monitoring her for hours, watching her every movement—or rather, the lack of it. She was suspended in time, unable to progress, yet unable to stay still either."Why is your fate so stubborn?" Leon muttered under his breath, glaring at the princess’s frozen form. His normally stoic expression twisted with frustration. “I should have had control over this, but even the strongest forces are at play here.”H

The sky above the human world was thick with clouds, the night wind sharp and restless as if it carried whispers from another realm.From beyond the veil of worlds, a shadow pierced through the darkness.A Nightfall bird.Its wings shimmered faintly with silver-blue light, invisible to ordinary human eyes. It flew high above the city, gliding between currents of spiritual energy, its eyes glowing softly as it scanned the land below. It carried no scroll, no physical message—only sight. What it saw, the royal family would see. What it heard, they would hear.It circled once.Twice.Then it felt it.A disturbance.Not from below.From the temple.Inside the sacred chamber where Princess Elowen’s frozen body lay, the air shifted.Leon stopped mid-step.His eyes narrowed.He felt it instantly—a foreign spiritual signature brushing against the boundary barrier he had personally reinforced around the princess. It was subtle, careful… but not careful enough.He stepped out into the courtyard