Mirror Dream Tree 46. The first prince

The sa day as the eting of the new elders of the Sky Sword Sect.

Khasoas City.

The capital of the Owani Kingdom.

A small palace stands within the heart of the palace complex—its plaque reads: The Orchid Palace.

Inside, a man sits with his eyes closed, golden light flickering from his body like fla.

The fla doesn't burn anything.

Another man enters.

The seated man says without opening his eyes, “Majun, did you confirm the news?”

Majun bows, head lowered. “First Prince, it is confird. Matsuda Kanoru is the sa boy you ordered killed.”

Silence stretches.

The first prince says nothing.

His face remains calm, his closed eyes still, but the flickering of the golden fla grows violent.

Majun watches, unmoving.

He doesn’t leave—he cannot, not until dismissed.

Minutes pass.

Then, finally, the prince says, “Majun, what do you think we should do?”

Majun hesitates.

The prince notices. “Speak freely. I won’t punish you.”

Majun raises his eyes, studying the prince’s expression while still bowing, and after a pause, says, “Your Highness… how about you ask him for forgiveness?”

The first prince freezes.

The fla pauses mid-flicker.

Then, in a cold voice, he replies, “You want to beg—a civilian? I, the first prince of Owani Kingdom? The future king?”

Majun answers quietly, “Right now… I can’t think of any other solution.”

The first prince also cannot find one.

He knows that even as a mber of the royal family, the new Dharma Realm cultivator can’t kill him—not directly.

The royal family’s support was critical in setting the trap that killed the blood ancestor.

Without their help, the plan would’ve failed.

They lured the ancestor into the trap by sacrificing thousands of their own citizens, concealing the operation from all.

And that blood ancestor wasn’t just any threat—he was truly their forefather.

Though separated by hundreds of generations, his blood still flowed through them.

They helped end his life.

So, while his own life isn’t in danger, that doesn’t an he’ll escape unscathed.

The punishnt might be enough to eliminate him from the competition for the throne.

And to him, that would be worse than death.

His cultivation thod, the Nine Yang Golden Fla Technique, aligns perfectly with the mutated Yang-attribute blood in his veins.

That Yang attribute was born from a union of two bloodlines: the Eight-Headed Serpent and the White Elephant.

The White Elephant blood ca from his mother—it was originally without attribute but carried a purification artistic conception.

That conception purified the serpent blood, creating the rare Yang-attribute blood.

He refined that Yang attribute to its peak.

There are only nine known ancestors in the world, each embodying one of the nine fundantal rules believed to govern existence.

But two more rules—the Yin and the Yang, the negative and the positive—are rising.

One day, it is said, they’ll match the nine and give birth to two more ancestors.

And he wants the Yang Rule to choose him—to make him the new ancestor.

That can only happen if his understanding of the Yang Rule surpasses all others in the world.

Born with Yang-attributed blood, he refuses to waste the opportunity.

So he cultivates the Nine Yang Golden Fla Technique, a thod that originally allowed cultivation only to the first turn of the Great Samurai Realm.

Its creator died from implosion a thousand years ago.

But now, a potion has been developed to make the technique safer—implosion becos a risk only upon entering the high-ranking samurai realm.

He remains safe thanks to the Jasper Seal Potion, provided endlessly by his mother’s family.

That supply is guaranteed only as long as he remains the most likely successor to the Owani throne.

Now, even that could be taken away by Matsuda Kanoru.

He exhales heavily and looks at Majun. “You can stop bowing.”

Majun straightens.

“Majun, find Master Kanoru.”

Majun exhales in relief, nods. “Yes, Your Highness.”

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He turns to leave, but as he opens the door, he finds a palace official with his hand raised to knock.

The official says, “First Prince, His Majesty summons you.”

The prince replies, “Tell Father I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

The official says, “His Majesty wants you imdiately.”

The prince rises. The golden fla vanishes.

He murmurs, “Now is the ti—Father ets the Council Ministers.”

The official holds his gaze and adds, “The Council also wishes to see you, regarding your transgression.”

The first prince narrows his eyes. “What transgression did I commit?”

The palace official replies, “That, I do not know.”

The prince’s gaze turns cold. He already understands the real reason behind the summons.

“Then let’s go.”

The official turns and leads the way.

As the first prince passes Majun, he says quietly, “Inform my mother.”

Then he follows the official.

In the main throne room, the king sits on his throne, facing the six Council Ministers.

He clenches his fists, suppressing the fury simring inside him.

Because of his son’s recklessness, the royal family's authority will be weakened even further.

He wants nothing more than to flay his son alive—but he also understands why the boy acted.

Had he been in his son's place, he might have done the sa.

The mistake wasn't ambition—it was choosing the wrong enemy.

Now, to restore their power, they must rely on the very man his son provoked.

For the sake of the royal family, the prince must be sacrificed before their influence erodes beyond repair.

A knock breaks the silence.

The door opens, and a fifth-rank palace official steps in to announce the prince.

The first prince enters, walks steadily to the steps of the throne, and bows.

“Your Majesty, you summoned .”

The king doesn’t respond—he only fixes his son with a cold stare.

The Minister of Law speaks instead. “Prince, do you know why you’ve been summoned?”

The first prince shakes his head. “No, sir.”

The Minister of Law frowns. “Are you still pretending? Do you truly not know what you’ve done?”

The first prince lifts his eyes calmly. “If I’ve done sothing wrong, please enlighten .”

The Minister of Military cuts in. “You abused your authority—used military channels to brand an innocent man a criminal under the kingdom’s law.”

The First Prince replies, “I’ve remained within my palace for the past few days. How could I possibly misuse military authority?”

The Minister of Military answers, “Soone used your command token in Mugen Prefecture to declare Master Kanoru a wanted man.”

The Minister of Rites gasps. “What a grave sin! If Master Kanoru were just an ordinary man, I fear what might’ve beco of him.”

He turns toward the prince. “First Prince, I always believed you were the most promising among the royal heirs. Why commit such a blunder?”

The First Prince feigns shock. “Soone used my token to abuse military authority and falsely accuse a man?”

He raises his voice, channelling righteous indignation. “Ministers, tell who did this. I will personally capture the one who dared misuse my authority!”

The ministers glance at each other. For a mont, doubt flickers in their eyes—had they misjudged him?

But they quickly remind themselves that their goal is to weaken the royal family’s influence, regardless of the prince’s performance.

The Minister of Law says, “The one who acted was an outer elder of the Sky Sword Sect.”

The First Prince frowns as if trying to piece things together. “So… the Yin treasure was in Mugen Prefecture.”

The Minister of Rites narrows his eyes. “What do you an by that?”

The First Prince turns toward the throne, looking up at his father, who sits watching in silence, his face unreadable.

“Your Majesty,” the prince says, “you know I live every mont under the shadow of death. Not long ago, an inner elder from the Sky Sword Sect ca to with information about a Yin treasure hidden in a dangerous region—but he needed my token to mobilise soldiers for protection.”

The king feels a flicker of relief. He had feared his son was simply reckless, but now the boy is showing how to handle pressure with calculated poise.

The king finally speaks. “Ministers, you see—it wasn’t my son who erred. Soone exploited his fear and misused his token. I’ll dispatch the Royal Guard imdiately to bring that man to justice. To deceive a royal is to insult the crown itself.”

The ministers glance at one another, then all eyes settle on a single figure—Pri Minister Hyuga Arima.

Arima steps forward. “Your Majesty, this man committed a cri against both the royal family and the kingdom. He must be judged according to the law.”

The king doesn’t show anger at the pri minister for undermining his plan. He had already anticipated this outco.

He nods. “Yes. A suitable punishnt must be enacted to prevent such a mistake from happening again.”

The pri minister replies, “There must not be another mistake like this, Your Majesty.”

The king locks eyes with Arima, and Arima ets his gaze without flinching.

A heavy, suffocating pressure spreads from the throne room across the palace grounds.

Servants and guards with weak cultivation drop to their knees, hands to the floor, gasping for air. So even collapse unconscious.

Then, as suddenly as it ca, the pressure vanishes.

In the silence that follows, the king leans forward slightly. “So—what do you want?”

The pri minister responds calmly. “Your Majesty, I want nothing for myself. Everything I do is for the people and the kingdom.”

The king leans back on his throne. “Then tell , Pri Minister—what would you do for my people?”

Arima answers, “I propose a new law—one that limits the authority of royal family mbers to hand out command tokens. What happened with the First Prince must never happen again.”

The king nods. “Very well. Present the draft to all ministers in a week.”

He waves his hand. “This eting is over. You may all leave—except the prince.”

The six ministers nod, but before exiting, the Pri Minister turns to the First Prince. “Prince, you never ntioned the na of the man.”

The prince pauses, then recalls the only na that cos to mind. “Kruren.”

The Pri Minister nods and exits with the others.

As the heavy doors close, the First Prince glances at the king, then pain explodes in his stomach as he’s flung across the room, crashing into the throne room wall.

The king’s cold voice follows. “I don’t want that man appearing before again.”

With that, the king vanishes.

The side door swings open, wide and silently.

The prince slowly rises, clutching his abdon, and wipes the blood from his lips.

Outside, he ets Majun and says, “You once said you turned an inner elder of the Sky Sword Sect into our spy.”

Majun nods. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Did you give him the Mirror Pigeon?”

“I did, Your Highness.”

“Good. I want to speak to him. And prepare a team of Night Guards—I’m going to Ryoukezen.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Still wincing from the blow, the prince heads to his chambers.

To do that, he must destroy Kruren.

With that thought, he enters his chamber and swallows a healing pill, sitting cross-legged as he channels his inner energy to nd the wounds inflicted by his father.

“The thod that the stranger gave works,” he mutters. “I managed to suppress my emotions.”

A few days earlier, the stranger had appeared—unannounced, untraceable—inside the heavily guarded palace complex.

The man reached the prince’s personal quarters, knocked on the door, and waited calmly.

Instead of shouting for the guards, the prince invited him in and listened.

The man offered a strange technique—one unlike anything the prince had ever encountered: the Yin Replenishnt Technique.

In exchange, the man asked for a single favour, one that must be fulfilled if the technique proved effective.

The prince had agreed—but with the condition that the favour must not harm him or his kingdom.

The man accepted and handed over the complete technique before vanishing without a trace.

A sudden jolt of pain runs through the prince’s body as he cultivates.

He grits his teeth and pulls out a vial of Jasper Seal Potion, swallowing it in one gulp.

The pain eases, but not completely.

“I’ll need to practice the technique again,” he murmurs. “But this is the last ti I’ll do it inside the palace.”

He tugs a cord hanging from the ceiling.

Monts later, a male servant knocks, then steps into the room.

“Bring a young, unmarried maid,” the prince says.

“Like last ti, Your Highness?” the servant asks, his voice low.

The prince nods.

Minutes later, the servant leads a maid into the room and closes the door behind her.

Outside, he hears muffled screams—weak, pained, fading.

When the door finally opens again, the prince steps out, adjusting his robes.

“Send her ho,” he says coldly, “and give her so money.”

The servant bows. “Yes, Your Highness.”

He enters the room and recoils.

The maid lies unconscious, her body shrivelled down to skin and bone, just like the last one.

Fear coils in the servant’s chest.

He knows too much.

He knows the prince’s secret—and that is never safe.

“I need to act,” he thinks, trembling. “Before the prince decides, I’ve beco a liability.”