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It had been a time before war shook the lands, before the dynasty bled beneath the banners of the demonic cult.
To safeguard her properties from being seized due to “abandonment” or unpaid taxes, Yewon had done the impossible: she paid her property taxes a hundred and twenty years in advance.
But not with coin.
Instead, she brought out the rarest treasure in her collection— elixir pills she made and pour her energy for thirty days and nights. She painstakingly molded each into ten pills . Each pill, even watered down, was said to rival the great rejuvenation pill of shaolin.
She didn’t hand them to any petty official.
With the help of Magistrate Zhang, who pulled every thread of favor he had with the Prime Minister, she secured an audience directly with the emperor himself under the guise of a sensitive matter.
And indeed—it was sensitive.
Anything stronger than Shaolin’s Great Rejuvenating Pill could make kings greedy. Emperors more so.
Had the young emperor not been informed of Xia Yewon’s true age… perhaps he might’ve foolishly asked for her hand. He was, after all, a man of vigor, and Yewon’s beauty remained eternally youthful. But knowing that she was older than his own grandmother quickly doused any flicker of romantic delusion.
The moment the head eunuch announced, “Xia Yewon, of kangho,” the audience hall fell into pin-drop silence. Ministers blinked in curiosity. Generals instinctively rested their hands on their sword hilts.
Even as she suppressed her aura to the barest degree, the ripple of qi she gave off was enough to make the seasoned martial generals tremble.
Yewon entered and bowed, perfectly poised.
“This one greets His Majesty,” she said with the voice of flowing water.
The ministers scoffed quietly. One muttered, “A matter of taxes? For this, we summon the dragon throne?”
But Yewon remained unfazed.
She stepped forward with her wooden box of elixirs and, in a tone neither arrogant nor servile, declared:
“This Xia Yewon presents elixirs passed down by her ancestors. May His Majesty allow the an expert to appraise their worth.”
A flick of the emperor’s sleeve.
“Summon the imperial physician.”
The eunuchs rushed out. Moments later, the old Royal Physician arrived, bowed deeply, and was handed the vials.
What followed was… unexpected.
He froze. Eyes widened. His hand trembled. And then—
Thud!
He fainted.
Gasps filled the chamber. Eunuchs rushed forward.
The emperor, wide-eyed, waved urgently. “Bring another!”
A second physician was summoned and, though more composed, nearly buckled as well. After regaining his breath, he knelt with his forehead on the floor.
“Your Majesty… these elixirs… They are two ranks above Shaolin’s Great Rejuvenating Pill. Their purity is... absolute. I daresay... they may rival the legendary Origin Pill of the Medicine Immortal!”
A murmur swept the court.
Even the emperor leaned forward, eyes locked on the open box now resting on the table before him.
The generals stared greedily. The ministers held their tongues.
In that instant, Yewon’s value soared.
The hall was silent—so silent that even the rustle of brocade robes felt deafening. Ministers, generals, nobles… all stared with bated breath at the Moonlight Fae who stood before the throne, her bearing calm and refined, almost disinterested.
Before her, placed with the utmost reverence, was a small, lacquered wooden box. Its unassuming exterior belied the immensity of what it held: elixirs—rare, potent, refined to perfection. To those who knew, a single pill of such quality could buy the loyalty of a sect or fund an entire city’s reconstruction. Their value was unspoken but deeply understood.
Even the Emperor’s expression had shifted—no longer relaxed and magnanimous, but solemn with weight. He, too, recognized what this gift implied.
A single Pill was already a national treasure.
She had presented him a whole box.So naturally, the question must follow.
“What is it you seek in return, Immortal Xia?”
The tension thickened. No one dared breathe. Even the aged prime minister’s fingers twitched slightly in anxiety.
What kind of request would she dare make
Land? A title? A seat beside the throne?
Everyone waited for the Moonlight Fae to name her price.
But she smiled faintly and lowered her head with a soft rustle of sleeves, her words like clear chimes of wind:
“This one is certain that His Majesty is already aware of the shadows looming beyond our borders… and the war inching closer to our lands. I offer these elixirs not as a trade, but as a token of sincerity. May they serve the empire well—this one has no wish but to fulfill her duty.”
A wave of murmurs broke across the court like ripples in a lake.
Even the Emperor leaned forward, his eyes narrowing in thought. He could sense there was more. Her courtesy was genuine, but a mind like hers surely wouldn’t give something so precious without foresight.
“Immortal Xia, you did not answer my question. You must have something you desire. And as long as it is within my power as Son of Heaven, I shall grant it. Say the word.”
She glanced up—serene, unreadable, timeless.
“If His Majesty insists… then this one humbly requests exemption from taxes on her lands and estates for the next one hundred twenty years. Let these elixirs be considered advance payment.”
The silence cracked.
One hundred twenty years of tax?
The ministers nearly choked on their own breath. But then again… for something that could heal a dying army, revive a meridian, or even extend life…
It was a bargain.
And yet, she bowed again, not arrogant, not overreaching—only offering, only proposing. In the eyes of many, she had just traded the lives of heroes for peace of mind.
The Emperor leaned back in his throne with a smile.
“So be it. I hereby decree: Xia Yewon, her estate, her properties, and all lands under her name are absolved from taxation for the next one hundred twenty years. Let it be written and sealed.”
The court thundered with the pounding of the ministers’ tablets as they knelt in unison, chanting—
“Long live the Emperor!”
But somewhere in the crowd, many eyes no longer stared at the elixirs.
They stared at her.
The Moonlight Fae.
And the mystery she left behind.
The emperor's brows furrowed in thought.
“Immortal Xia,” he said slowly, voice measured with curiosity, “why one hundred and twenty years?”
A murmur rippled through the hall. Even the ministers and generals couldn’t help but glance at each other. No one believed Xia Yewon would live that long—not unless she transcended the mortal coil itself. Some assumed she meant to pass the exemption down to descendants, yet no rumors had ever emerged of her bearing children, nor accepting disciples.
The emperor narrowed his eyes. “Are you perhaps planning to pass your rights to another? Speak freely—I must know your true intent.”
Yewon’s gaze remained calm. Her robes, embroidered with moonlight and plum blossoms, fluttered slightly despite the still air. She stood without fear before the golden throne.
“This one will comply,” she said softly. “It is not inheritance I seek… but preparation.”
A pause.
“In a dream granted by the heavens, I glimpsed a future one hundred years from now. A time when this world has changed... and I, Xia Yewon, shall no longer exist.”
The court held its breath.
“I shall perish in the war to come,” she continued, voice steady, “but my soul will not fade. It will return—reborn in a new vessel. A new flesh, same name. But when the time comes... I shall walk into this very audience hall once more and reclaim the identity I secured today.”
Silence.
One could hear the rustle of robes as courtiers turned pale. Several fell to their knees, trembling. Even the emperor sat frozen, lips parted, color drained from his youthful face.
To hear such a declaration in the Hall of Eternal Radiance—from a woman whose strength rivaled legends—was no minor thing.
They all knew she was no ordinary martial artist.
She, the Moonlight Fae of Jianghu.
She, who walked beside the Plum Blossom Sword Supreme and the Dark supreme .
To speak a prophecy so clearly, so fearlessly, in the presence of the dragon throne itself—
And now she spoke of rebirth.So who among them could call her mad? Who dared to say it was not possible?
No one.
Not even the emperor.
The Emperor, though composed, leaned slightly forward upon the dragon throne. His gaze pierced through the silence in the hall as he addressed her.
“Immortal Xia,” he said carefully, “how will the court and future sovereigns believe your claim, should you truly return in a new vessel as you say? What proof will you present to reclaim your identity after a hundred years have passed?”
The courtiers barely breathed, all eyes fixed on the unbothered moonlit figure in the center of the hall.
Xia Yewon raised her eyes, unfazed by the Emperor’s skepticism. Her voice was steady, as if she had long rehearsed the words heaven let her glimpse:
“This one shall seal her properties—each estate and manor—away from the outside world. Sealed with an array that only this soul may unbind. Even time shall not weather its gates. Only two souls in all the world, aside from myself, shall be granted passage.”
A murmur spread through the court.
“And where shall this proof lie?” the Emperor pressed.
“In the deepest chamber of my main manor lies a hidden vault, Your Majesty. Within it, this one shall bury the imperial decree you granted—signed, sealed, and kept untouched for a century. When I return, it shall be the first thing I retrieve,” she said with a quiet, unnerving confidence.
The Emperor’s lips pressed into a line. The ministers exchanged pale glances, sweat already clinging to their necks.
“And what of the copy?” the Emperor asked again, almost solemn now.
“This one implores His Majesty to preserve a second copy of the decree in the imperial archives, guarded under royal sigil. Let the future emperors bear witness when I return to this very hall. When that time comes, I shall not ask for the recognition—I shall reclaim it.”
The hall was dead silent.
No one dared move.
It was no longer arrogance that surrounded her, nor madness. It was certainty. A terrifying, bone-deep certainty that only a few in history had dared to utter before the throne.
And in that moment, the Emperor—young though he may be—understood why the world called her Immortal Xia.
The Emperor sat in stunned silence, his fingers tightening faintly on the gilded arms of the dragon throne.
To defy the natural course of life…
To speak of reincarnation as if it were a set return…
To seal away treasures for a self not yet reborn…
And to request the empire itself remember her for a hundred years—
Only one woman in the world could do so and not be laughed out of the court.
Finally, the Emperor stood from his seat. His silken robes whispered over the steps as he slowly descended, an action that caused the court to stir in alarm—an Emperor never leaves the throne so casually.
Yet he stopped halfway and looked down at Xia Yewon with narrowed, searching eyes.
“You ask this court… this empire… to remember your name for over a century,” he said slowly, voice steady but cold. “You ask me to grant you not only tax exemption, but the honor of official record, the safeguarding of your future self’s return.”
He let the words hang in the air like the edge of a sword.
The nobles stiffened, fearful
Then he spoke again—quieter this time.
“…Then so be it.”
The hall collectively exhaled.
He raised his hand, voice loud once more.
“I, by the will of Heaven and the authority of the throne, grant Immortal Xia’s request. A decree shall be written, one to be buried beneath her manor, another to be sealed in the royal archives beneath three layers of dragon-seal security. Her estates shall be marked exempt for one hundred and twenty years, and her properties sealed under her design.”
His gaze turned sharp as he addressed her directly once more.
“However… if this prophecy is but the fantasy of a mad warrior, then let it be buried with your bones, and none shall speak of it again.”
Xia Yewon, ever calm, pressed her fist to her palm and bowed deeply.
“This one accepts the condition. And when the heavens turn, and this vessel walks again, I shall prove that madness and clarity may wear the same face.”
The young Emperor gave her one last look.
“…Then may the world await your return, Immortal Xia. Let the future remember this day.”
The sky had darkened far too early that day.
Ash fell like snow over the ruined valley, and the land bore the scars of a war no kingdom was meant to survive.
It was done.
The Heavenly Demon, the tyrant who razed eight provinces and devoured four righteous sects, had fallen—cleaved by the joint might of the Plum Blossom Sword Supreme and the Immortal of Crimson Frost, Xia Yewon.
But victory came at a cost too steep to be celebrated.
The plum blossom sword supreme, the strongest swordsman of his generation. And the Moonlight fae sword ssupremelost their lives in the war.
Only the sole surviving Dark Supreme had survived to mourn them.
Back in the capital…
When the imperial scouts returned empty-handed, the court fell into unease.
Whispers stirred:
“She said she would die on the battlefield…”
“The prophecy came true.”
“Immortal Xia Yewon… truly, no one escapes fate.”
The ministers looked to the Emperor for guidance.
He said nothing at first. Not when the bells tolled across the city. Not when white banners were hung from every roof. Not even when the High Seer confirmed it—the Heavenly Demon was gone.
Only when the chancellor nervously asked:
“Your Majesty… what shall be done about the seal on her manor?”
Did the Emperor finally speak.
“…Let it remain sealed.”
He rose from his throne and turned toward the east—where the sun once rose over her battlefield.
“She swore that only two would ever unseal that place… even if she never returned alive.”
He closed his eyes.
“And the throne would wait. Either for her return—or for the one she has chosen.”
The court bowed, solemn.
A page turned in the empire’s history.
But no one forgot the name Xia Yewon.
And far beyond the reach of men, where the forest thickens and the mist never clears, beneath a nameless hill—
Two swords rest in silence.
One silver. One blossomed in crimson.
And somewhere in that stillness, the wind shifts.
As if something…
Had begin to stir.