Meanwhile, inside the grand Imperial Palace of the Holy Light Empire, Seraphina Dawnlight could be seen walking down a long hallway with graceful, purposeful strides.
Her gentle, goddess-like visage immediately earned the attention of the passing maids and guards. Work halted as they stopped to stare, hushed whispers following in her wake.
"My God! That’s the Saintess of Light. She is here in person? Am I dreaming?"
"No. I can see her too. She must be here to heal the Emperor."
"Aww, She is truly beautiful. I wish I could just as kind and beautiful like her."
At their admiration and complements, Seraphina just smiled faintly. For some reason, she now felt genuine joy in her humanitarian work, a warmth she hadn’t experienced before Vahn had entered her life.
Just then, an elderly man with the appearance of a eunuch arrived, moving quickly but with deep respect. He immediately bowed low.
"Saintess, I am Head Eunuch Berthold. It is truly a blessing for us to receive your presence at this difficult hour. Thank you, truly."
Seraphina calmly replied,
"Don’t mention it, Berthold. As a vassal empire of White Lotus, it is our duty to take care of the Holy Light Empire."
With that Head Eunuch Berthold scurried ahead of Seraphina, leading her deeper into the Imperial Palace. He was clearly flustered but utterly relieved to have the famed Saintess of Light present.
Seraphina moved with serene grace, her mind focused entirely on the grave task ahead.
Within minutes, they entered an immaculately decorated bedchamber. The air here was heavy, not with sickness, but with a dense, oppressive spiritual stagnation.
Lying motionless on a silk-draped bed was the current Holy Emperor. He was an old man with thinning gray hair, his features once radiating command and vitality, now withered and pale. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. The illness was visibly spiritual; there were no physical wounds, only the profound absence of life force.
Seraphina approached the bedside, her expression turning deeply serious as she appraised the old man. She could feel the subtle, dark contamination around his soul.
This was a chilling sign of an ancient soul curse.
She turned to the waiting eunuch and said,
"Please, pray tell what exactly occurred with the Holy Emperor? How was he inflicted with this soul curse?"
Berthold’s hand and voice shook as he recalled,
"Saintess, it happened three days ago. The Emperor was presiding over a minor border treaty signing when he suddenly collapsed. The Imperial Physicians, the best healers in the Empire, were useless. They could find no physical ailment, only that his Soul was rapidly decaying."
He leaned closer, his eyes darting to the closed doors.
"The only clue came from the Imperial Seer. She determined that the curse was administered through an artifact, like a small tarnished jade disc left behind at the treaty site. The curse, she said, was called ’The Withering Shadow of Ages.’ It’s designed to leach the vitality directly from the soul, bypassing all physical and Qi defenses. We fear he won’t last another day without divine intervention."
Seraphina pondered over the Eunuch’s revelation, and her brow furrowed in concentration. The nature of the affliction spoke of malice far beyond a random attack.
"Head Eunuch, If what you’re saying is the truth, there must be a bigger conspiracy involved," she replied, her voice firm.
"Someone deliberately wanted him to die. And that someone is likely close to the Emperor and probably has secret ties to a demonic faction."
Berthold nodded curtly, his expression grave.
"You’re probably right, Saintess. But we have no proof who that might be."
"Bang!"
Just then, the heavy door to the imperial bedchamber opened with a loud slam.
Seraphina’s eyes narrowed, seeing a young man in imperial robes barging in a drunken stupor. His costly clothes were rumpled, and he wobbled dangerously. The drunken young man’s eyes immediately fixed on Seraphina, shining with a hidden lust that he barely concealed beneath his clumsy movements.
"Where am I? Why is the world spinning so much?" he slurred, clutching the doorframe. "Berthold... You’re Eunuch Berthold, right?"
Berthold sighed in helplessness and leaned toward Seraphina, informing her in a low whisper, "Saintess, this is the Second Prince, Tyrian Light. And shamefully, he is drunk again. I apologize for such an unsightly display."
Seraphina, though observant, didn’t seem to acknowledge the predatory look in the Prince’s eyes. She simply shook her head and replied, "Maybe the Second Prince is in too much grief about his Imperial father’s illness."
Whether she was mocking the Prince or genuinely believed her own charitable statement, Berthold couldn’t tell.
"Anyway, let us begin. After healing the Emperor, I have a more pressing matter to attend to," Seraphina suddenly said, standing up. Her hands began to glow with soft, vibrant Light energy as she moved decisively to purify the curse.
Berthold’s eyes instantly regained hope, seeing her unshakable confidence.
"Saintess, is it true? Can you really heal him? Can your grace truly erase away the ancient curse that is said to be incurable?"
"Of course, I can," Seraphina replied with calm confidence, her golden hair swaying slightly despite the quietness of the chamber.
"I have learned a new Healing Art that can even Heal Souls. This curse should be purified completely once I am done."
As soon as Berthold heard this, he could not hide his excitement.
"Then, It’s truly joyous news, Saintess! Thanks be to the Heavenly Gods who blessed our empire with your divine presence.
Please wait a moment, let me inform the Empress Consort and the other Princes and Princesses."
The Eunuch rushed outside the bedchamber, screaming out the news with excitement and pure joy.
"The Holy Emperor Is Saved! His majesty will not die!"
Within seconds, the whole Palace learned the incredible news.
However, the Second Prince, Tyrian, seemed secretly displeased. Behind those drunken eyes, a venomous, calculating aura radiated from him.
Seraphina, who focused entirely on the Emperor’s spiritual affliction, failed to notice.
As Seraphina began to heal the Emperor while humming old hymns, Tyrian slowly moved closer and closer, until he could he could smell her intoxicating scent.
After secretly licking his lips, he asked,
"Saintess, may I know exactly when you learned this Soul Healing Art? I thought healing a Soul was almost impossible."
He still looked drunk, wobbling slightly, and maintained a facade of clumsy curiosity, so Seraphina didn’t suspect anything wrong with the question. That being said, she wasn’t a fool; she would never reveal anything that could harm Vahn.
She answered to the question without turning back,
"There is nothing impossible, Prince Tyrian. I had the opportunity to learn it from a secret Text the world hasn’t seen yet."
She wasn’t lying; she was simply altering the truth. Since she couldn’t not lie, that was the best way to frame the answer.
Even so, hearing the answer, a sharp, cold glint passed over Tyrian’s eyes.
"Secret Text...? Something that could alter fate? But how? What’s the reason? What’s changed?" he asked himself internally, finding no immediate answer.
The timing of the Saintess’s sudden acquisition of a Soul Healing Art was far too convenient to be mere coincidence.
Something was wrong.