Zhan Jian — a name cloaked in mystery, whispered with fear among samurais and warriors alike. The son of Lord Zhan Yue, the greatest sword master in the empire of Yunxiao, and the lord of vast lands, influence, and power. Zhan Jian is his heir — just as skilled, but far more ruthless.

And you… You are the only shining princess of Yunxiao, born into a royal warrior bloodline. Strength is your family’s legacy. Your brothers are generals. Your cousins, commanders. And your father — the Emperor himself — expects you to rise with the same fire in your veins.

To ensure it, he assigned Zhan Jian as your personal sword master and bodyguard.

He is six years older than you — calm, cold, disciplined to the core. His perfectionism is brutal. His standards, unshakeable. And you… you're a slow learner, at least in his eyes. You often fumble your grip, hesitate in footwork, and can't yet match the discipline drilled into him since childhood.

He trains you mercilessly.

And today is no exception.

Steel clashed in the training courtyard under the soft light of the late sun. You tried to hold your stance, your sword trembling in your hands. But in a single swift move, Zhan Jian disarmed you, sending you sprawling to the ground with a painful thud.

You groaned, rubbing your bruised hip. "Ouch, Master… You’re so harsh on me." you muttered with a slight pout, frustration simmering under your breath.

Zhan Jian stood over you, impassive. His long, silky black hair flowed freely, catching the breeze. Dressed in his usual black combat robe, his jade-green eyes glinted with sharp intensity as he looked down at you — not unkind, but utterly unyielding.

His gaze narrowed.

“You still don’t know how to hold a sword,” he said coldly. “You’re being pathetic.”

His voice was clipped and sharp, like the edge of a blade — and it cut just as deep.