The Imperial Palace, once filled with the vibrant hum of life, now felt eerily quiet. Bai Qingyu and Li Yuexin had walked the same halls countless times, but today, the weight of their past seemed to echo louder than ever before. The unrest in the provinces was growing, but it was not just the present that troubled them—it was the ghosts of their past.
Qingyu sat by the window, her gaze distant, watching the courtyard where courtiers and guards moved like shadows. The calm, cool air outside mirrored the peace she had long sought. Yet, even now, as she had once again taken the reins of the Empire, she could feel the stirring of unrest—both from the outside world and within herself.
"Do you ever regret it?" Yuexin's voice broke the silence, a rare softness in her tone.
Qingyu turned toward her, her icy eyes meeting the fiery gaze of her companion. "Regret what?"
Yuexin leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her face a mix of curiosity and concern. "Coming back. All these years in seclusion... You know what it cost us to retreat. The Empire, the world—it's all changed. Do you think we made the right decision in returning?"
Qingyu's lips curled into a faint smile, but it was laced with melancholy. "I've been asking myself the same thing, Yuexin. There was a time when I believed we could shape the world without getting involved in its politics, without being bound by the chains of rulers and thrones. But now... the world has become too unstable. It can't stand on its own. Not anymore."
Yuexin stepped into the room, sitting down beside Qingyu. "The people were never meant to rule themselves. They need strong leaders. They always have. But that doesn't mean we have to become like them."
Qingyu's gaze hardened slightly. "You're right. We didn't return to become like those who failed before us. We came back because this Empire needs us. Because it's on the brink of collapse, and we are the only ones capable of holding it together."
As Qingyu spoke, her mind wandered back to the days when the decision had been made. She had once stood at the height of power, a ruler without equal, but the weight of the crown had nearly crushed her. The endless struggles, the constant wars, the betrayals—it had all become too much. The decisions they had been forced to make—sacrificing so many for the greater good—had left an indelible mark on her soul.
Yuexin, too, had shared the burden, but her heart had always burned brighter, fiercer. It was her strength that had kept them together through those dark times. They had once ruled the world together, but as they had faced the endless wave of conflicts, they had slowly retreated, seeking solace in seclusion.
"It wasn't just the battles that broke us," Qingyu continued, her voice softer now, as if speaking to herself. "It was the realization that no matter how hard we tried, no matter how much power we wielded, the world was always broken. The people... they could never be satisfied. They could never see the true price of peace."
Yuexin's voice was gentle but steady. "And so we vanished. For how long, Qingyu? A thousand years? Ten thousand years? A hundred thousand years? Or a million years? More? Do you think they've forgotten?"
Qingyu shook her head. "They never forget. But they don't remember, either. They don't remember the sacrifices we made or the blood we spilled. All they see now is the power we wield, not the weight that comes with it."
The conversation drifted, and the night passed in silence. But as Qingyu lay awake, her thoughts wandered further into the past. She remembered the countless battles they had fought side by side, the moments of triumph and loss. The weight of ruling the world had been unbearable, but the people had never seen the cost. They had demanded more—always more. And when Qingyu and Yuexin had finally retreated, they had hoped the world would find its own way.
But it hadn't.
And now, they were here again, forced to return, not because they craved power, but because they saw the Empire falling apart once more. The fractures that had begun with the rise of ambitious governors like Zhao Lian were just the tip of the iceberg. A rebellion had begun to stir, but what worried Qingyu the most was the shifting loyalty of the people. It was no longer about defeating external enemies—it was about keeping the Empire intact.
Later that week, Qingyu and Yuexin called a meeting with their most trusted advisors. Among them was Feng Yulan, the military strategist who had helped them secure their rule, and Xu Meilin, a brilliant diplomat who had helped forge the alliances that held the provinces in check.
As they gathered around the table, Qingyu looked at each of them with a steady, calculating gaze. "The rebellion is more than just a matter of military strength," she said. "Zhao Lian is not just a governor; he represents the growing discontent within the provinces. If we let this fester, the entire Empire could crumble."
Yuexin added, her tone as fiery as always, "We've dealt with traitors before. Let's take them down before they can make their move."
Feng Yulan, ever the cautious tactician, spoke up. "It's not just about fighting, Your Majesty. The provinces are no longer just territories; they are starting to see themselves as independent. We need to show them that unity under your rule is their only option."
Xu Meilin nodded. "If we strike too hard, we risk turning this into a civil war. We need to win their loyalty, not just their submission."
As the meeting continued, Qingyu couldn't help but think about what had brought them here. They had spent so many years avoiding politics, focusing on cultivation and their own inner strength. But now, the world had dragged them back in, and they had no choice but to intervene once again. They had once ruled the world together, but they had retreated, hoping the people could govern themselves.
Yet here they were, once again forced to take the throne.
Qingyu sighed, glancing at Yuexin. "We've come full circle, haven't we?"
Yuexin grinned, her fiery energy still unshaken. "We never really left. The world just forgot that we were watching."