The mad princess forces love upon him, and the aloof imperial advisor trembles every night.

The moment the words left his lips, the first thunderclap exploded in the night sky. A bolt of purple lightning, like a dragon, struck the stone pillar at the edge of the observatory, sending shards of stone flying and leaving gruesome scorch marks.

Heaven is enraged.

He was the Grand Preceptor of the Great Chu State, a practitioner of the Supreme Dao of Forgetfulness, severing the seven emotions and six desires, guarding the fate of the nation and protecting the bloodline of the Chu clan. He should not have felt compassion, much less have worldly desires.

Another thunderclap followed, and a pale flash of lightning illuminated the sky and the earth for a moment, also revealing the old scar on her forehead—a cinnabar-colored, thin line, like an unhealed tear of blood, lying across her pale, porcelain-like forehead.

In that instant, the light pierced Si Chen's mind, making it as clear as a mirror. He recalled the divination he had hidden away fifteen years ago.

"The Black Dragon has fallen, murdered his brother and father, and stained the imperial city with blood."

Si Chen's mind cleared instantly, like a mirror.

Scenes from tonight's victory banquet flashed through the mirror: an out-of-control tiger, a black-clad man appearing out of nowhere, a series of interconnected traps, a desperate counterattack... The eldest prince was childless, the fifth princess was punished, and the third prince was imprisoned—killing several birds with one stone, every step fraught with danger, a plan without flaw.

The hand holding the chess piece was none other than the woman laughing maniacally before them.

Most shockingly, this was only the second day since her return from her marriage alliance with the Northern Sea. If this situation were allowed to continue, none of the princes of the Chu dynasty would be a match for her. A bloodbath would surely ensue, the empire would crumble, and mountains of corpses would rise from the ashes…

unless--

Si Chen slowly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his eyes, as cold as a deep pool, had returned to their lifeless state.

"Chu Qingyue," his voice deepened, and the surrounding air seemed to freeze, "Do you really think I can't do anything to you?"

Before he finished speaking, he waved his wide sleeves, and spiritual power surged forth like a tide. It wasn't a direct attack on her—his spiritual power always seemed to disappear into thin air for her—but rather it activated the protective array of the Star Gazing Platform, which had been dormant for many years.

A buzzing sound arose, and the star patterns on the ground lit up with a ghostly blue light. Two thick, dark iron chains shot down from the star map in the dome, precisely binding her wrists! Locked tight!

During her seven years of marriage to Bei Ming, what she hated most was the iron chains—on those cold nights, the icy iron rings had chafed her skin countless times, locking away her freedom.

"Si Chen..." she gritted her teeth, each word dripping with bloodlust, "You're asking for death."

Her inner strength surged, and her red robes billowed like blood flames. She struggled against the iron chains, the rings clanging and echoing loudly across the observatory.

A white shadow flashed by. Si Chen then pointed at the major acupoints on her body, his movements so fast that only afterimages remained.

The domineering internal force that he had tempered in the corpse mountain and blood sea of ​​the Northern Underworld was sealed inch by inch deep in his meridians, like a caged beast.

"Imprisonment?" She laughed in fury, her laughter shattering amidst the thunder. "Hahaha... Grand Preceptor, what do you want to imprison—me, or the wild beast within you—that's about to burst from its cage because of me?"

Si Chen had his back to her, his silver hair cascading like a waterfall under the starlight, his voice regaining its usual indifferent tone: "It's not imprisonment, it's cultivation. Chu Qingyue, you are now utterly rebellious, defying the heavens. I will inform His Majesty that you no longer need to return to the Princess's residence. You can stay here at the Star Gazing Platform and cultivate with me in seclusion. His Majesty... will surely grant your request."

Chu Qingyue slowly licked her slightly swollen lower lip, where the stinging pain from the bite and his cold breath still lingered.

"Tell Father to let me 'cultivate' here at the Observatory? Si Chen, are you afraid I'll go out and kill your 'Great Chu bloodline' and disrupt your 'national destiny'... or are you afraid that one day you won't be able to resist and will destroy me first—or... destroy me by my own hands?"

A cruel glint flashed in her eyes as she spoke, each word distinct: "Si Chen, you've truly angered me this time. You'd better pray that I never get out, or that you never fall into my hands."

Si Chen waved his wide sleeve. The other end of the chain plunged into the depths of the star map on the dome of the observatory, the chain clanging as it tightened, fixing her within a radius of three zhang.

It was a carefully calculated distance—enough for her to move around, but never able to reach the meditation cushion where he sat, never able to reach the edge of the observatory, never able to reach any place where he could escape or hurt someone.

"My Dao heart cannot be defiled." His voice was calm and unwavering, as if the bloody and intense entanglement between their lips had never happened. "But your killings should end here. Cultivating here in peace and purifying yourself of your malevolent aura will be a blessing for you and for the Great Chu."

"A fortunate event?" Chu Qingyue repeated, then suddenly exerted force forward, causing the iron chains to clang under the strain.

"Si Chen," her voice muffled behind him, carrying an almost broken tenderness.

"You've left me here, day and night, facing your heartless and desireless face... guess what methods I'll use to gradually wear down your discipline and erode your Daoist heart?"

She turned her face to the side, her lips almost touching the spine of his back, her breath sweet as orchids, yet every word was chilling:

"Will I recite the most filthy and obscene spells in this world to you every day? Or will I describe in detail to you every night when you are in meditation the heinous acts I witnessed and experienced during my seven years in hell? Or..."