Chapter 140 - - 140 - The Unblessed Princess

Chapter 140: Chapter - 140 - The Unblessed Princess

The grand plaza of Veylcrest was packed tight, the crowd humming with excitement for the annual demonstration. Up on the stone platform, Crown Prince Varen was practically soaking in the attention. He wore lavish silk robes stitched with silver and gold, standing tall with his chest puffed out like a peacock showing off.

"Citizens of Veylcrest!" Varen boomed, casting his voice across the square. "Today, I demonstrate the blessing of heaven upon our royal line!"

He raised his hand high, channeling his Astral energy with practiced flourish. A second later, a pillar of golden fire shot out from his palm, roaring thirty feet into the sky. Heat washed over the front rows, forcing people to shield their faces. The sky briefly took on an amber glow, and after a brief gasp, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers. Varen grinned, scanning the sea of adoring faces, clearly loving every second of it.

Standing near the back of the square, Lucien watched with a bored, cold expression. Late vein opening realm at best. It was decent for a third-rate kingdom, but to anyone who had seen real power, it was unimpressive. All flashy visual effects with zero real efficiency.

He couldn’t help but inwardly laugh at the hypocrisy of the whole thing. They called this the Heaven Ascension Festival, supposedly to honor an ancient ancestor who had broken through to a higher realm. But in reality, the Veylcrest royal family was just a declining bloodline putting on a show. In stronger realms like Valtheria, succession was settled through brutal trials where princes and princesses hired terrifying champions to kill each other for the throne. Here, the royals just acted like street performers to keep their subjects impressed. It wasn’t a trial—it was just pampered royalty playing dress-up.

As the applause started to fade, Varen’s eyes swept over the crowd, eventually stopping on a figure standing near the edge of the clear path.

"And why don’t we hear from my dear sister?" Varen’s voice carried over the square, laced with thick mockery. "The unblessed princess. Surely she has something to show us?"

The crowd parted nervously, leaving a young woman standing isolated in the center. She wore plain blue robes that looked starkly out of place among the festive colors. Princess Zaria Veylcrest was around twenty, with sharp features and a look in her eyes that was entirely cold. She didn’t flinch at her brother’s insults or the quiet laughter spreading through the crowd. She just stood there, completely unbothered.

Lucien’s focus shifted to her. He narrowed his eyes and quietly activated his divine inspection.

Underneath her skin, the truth became clear. Her spiritual energy wasn’t gone—it was locked down. Layer after layer of hidden seals and artificial bindings masked her strength, making her look entirely talentless to an ordinary eye. But underneath all those restrictions was a heavy, sleeping power. A rare, top-tier spiritual physique, suffocating under years of carefully administered poison.

He could feel it clearly from a hundred paces away.

Interesting, Lucien thought, a small smile touching his lips.

The festival dragged on for hours. Lucien paid minimal attention to the rest of the performances, using the time to figure out how the kingdom actually functioned. It didn’t take long to realize that Queen Veyra was the one running the show. Every official and captain deferred to her subtle signals, not the prince. Varen was just an arrogant puppet strutting on stage, completely oblivious to the strings tied to his limbs.

When the crowds finally began to thin, Lucien slipped into the back streets, keeping a distance behind the princess.

She walked alone, with no guards or servants following her. A discarded princess clearly wasn’t worth the cost of an escort. She navigated the narrow, winding alleys with practiced ease, staying away from the main roads and keeping her head down.

Eventually, she turned into a small, quiet tea house on the edge of the noble district. It was a simple spot, easily missed by anyone looking for luxury. Lucien waited a few seconds before following her inside and taking a seat at the table right next to hers.

Neither of them said anything at first. Zaria calmly sipped her tea, acting as if she were the only person in the room. Lucien ordered a cup of cheap local wine and matched her silence.

Even during a festival, a royal walking around without a single guard shows just how low her standing is, Lucien noted privately. Still, it makes her much easier to approach.

Without turning to face her, Lucien broke the quiet.

"You have an earth-attribute spiritual physique."

Zaria’s hand stopped mid-air, her tea cup hovering an inch from her lips.

"Someone’s been slipping you Silent Sovereign poison for at least ten years," Lucien continued, keeping his voice low and casual. "Probably longer. The dose is very precise. Just enough to rot your meridians and block your power, but not enough to actually kill you. Someone wants you alive, but completely useless."

Under the table, Zaria’s hand shifted slightly toward her side—no doubt reaching for a hidden blade.

"Who are you?" she whispered, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp tone.

"Someone who can fix it." Lucien picked up his wine and took a sip. It was harsh and poorly fermented, but he swallowed it anyway. "In return, once you’re sitting on the throne, I want access to the Veylcrest Vault."

Zaria stared at him, her body rigid. Her face stayed completely neutral, but her mind was clearly racing.

"You’re talking about treason," she said flatly.

"I’m talking about a business deal." Lucien set the cup down with a soft click. "You’ve spent years sitting in the background, watching everyone. You know this court better than anyone else. You know who’s corrupt, who’s loyal, and who’s disposable. You just haven’t had the strength to do anything about it."

"And you can just give me that strength?"

"I can give you back what was stolen from you. What you do with it after that is up to you."

Silence settled over the table again. In the corner of the room, the owner was busy wiping down a counter, completely unaware of the conversation happening a few feet away.

"What do you actually get out of this?" Zaria asked, staring straight into his eyes. "What’s your real goal?"

"A kingdom’s worth of resources. That’s all," Lucien replied with a relaxed smile. "I take my share and leave. This country thrives on trade, so I doubt you’ll miss what I take. Plus, watching your brother’s face when you strip him of his title will be a nice bonus."

First, I’ll take what’s in the vault under the guise of an agreement, Lucien thought. Then, bit by bit, I’ll strip this kingdom of everything useful.

A dark flicker passed through Zaria’s eyes. It wasn’t hope—it was a deep, bitter anger that had turned into ambition. The kind of quiet hatred that makes a person want to burn down everything around them.

"What’s your name?" she asked.

"Lucien Vale."

"Lucien Vale," she repeated, testing the sound of it. "And what stops me from having you executed the moment I take power?"

"Because you’ll need me to keep the rest of the court from killing you," Lucien said smoothly, leaning back in his chair. "And frankly, no one in this country has the power to kill me anyway. Besides, I don’t break my own tools."

"Tools?" she repeated, her brow twitching.

"Partners," he corrected smoothly. "Let’s go with partners."

Zaria watched him for a long moment, weighing the risk. Then, the corner of her mouth curved into a sharp, cold smile.

"Deal."

Lucien left first, leaving a few silver coins on the table to cover both their drinks.

He took three steps into the alleyway outside before the air behind him shifted. Before he could turn around, a thin strip of cold metal pressed firmly against the side of his neck.

A woman stepped out from the shadows behind him. She was sharp-featured and dangerous, with two daggers strapped to her belt and faint traces of dark energy clinging to her fingertips. Her aura sat firmly in the mid-vein opening realm—impressive for someone working secretly in a small kingdom.

"If you try to hurt her," the woman warned quietly, "I’ll cut your throat."

Lucien didn’t panic. He didn’t even reach for a weapon. He just glanced sideways at the steel against his skin.

"If I wanted to hurt her, I wouldn’t bother making a deal first. I’d just do it."

The woman held his gaze for a second before pulling the blade back. She fell into step beside him as he kept walking.

"Vex," she said briefly. "Her lady-in-waiting."

"And her spymistress," Lucien added without skipping a beat.

He had already gathered basic files on both Zaria and her hidden guard through Queen Cynthia’s network before entering the territory. He didn’t like walking into new places blind.

Vex narrowed her eyes. "What are you really looking for here?"

"Resources, power, and something interesting to do. In that order," Lucien said comfortably.

"And Zaria?"

"She’s the key to the first two. The rest is just entertainment."

Vex stayed quiet for a moment, thinking it over as they walked toward the main street. "At least you’re honest. Most people in your position would try to give me some noble speech."

"Honesty saves time." Lucien stopped at the edge of the alley, looking back toward the distant sounds of the festival. "Your princess is going to take the throne. You can either help me put her there, or you can watch the poison finish her off. It’s up to you."

Vex looked at him silently, then offered the exact same sharp smile Zaria had given him earlier.

"I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Lucien."

"I’d expect nothing less," Lucien replied, giving her a quick, casual smile.

In a blink, she slipped back into the shadows and vanished. Lucien straightened his sleeves and kept walking toward his inn.

Within an hour, a messenger delivered the news to the Crown Prince’s private quarters.

Varen sat on a cushioned couch, holding a glass of wine while his informant knelt on the floor, reporting that a strange cultivator had been seen talking privately with Princess Zaria.

"Find him and kill him," Varen said casually, not even looking up.

The spy hesitated. "Your Highness... he didn’t seem like an ordinary traveler. His background might be—"

"Did I ask for your opinion?" Varen cut him off, slamming his glass down onto the table. "Just deal with it."

The spy bowed quickly and left the room.

Varen refilled his glass, already forgetting about the whole thing. He couldn’t fathom the idea of a lone cultivator posing a real threat to a royal family. To someone who spent his whole life as a big fish in a small pond, the ocean didn’t exist.

In another part of the palace, Queen Veyra received her own report.

Her network was far sharper than her son’s. Her eyes had been on Lucien since he walked through the city gates—noting his plain clothing, his masked cultivation level, and the completely effortless way he moved through crowds.

She sat at her desk, staring down at a cooling cup of tea while she thought.

"A cultivator who can move around the city without drawing attention," she muttered quietly. "Interesting."

Her attendant stood by the door, waiting for instructions.

"He could be useful, or he could be an issue," Veyra said softly, her eyes narrowing. "Either way, I want him tracked. Put the Shadow Blades on him. If he contacts Zaria again, I want to know immediately."

"And if he steps out of line?" the attendant asked.

The Queen took a small sip of her tea, leaving the order unspoken.

Later that evening, Lucien sat at a small table inside his room at the Golden Leaf Pavilion, with Maisy sitting across from him.

Outside, the street lanterns threw warm light against the window, and the faint sound of music drifted up from the festival below. In the distance, the palace towers were lit up against the dark sky.

Lucien pulled a vial of Heavenly Marrow out from his void. It was a high-tier potion that could flush out deep impurities, repair damaged physique, and balance chaotic physiques. For Zaria’s condition, it was the most direct fix available.

Beside it, he set down a Soul-Sensing Jade—a tool used to identify and trace hidden physical traits.

An earth physique blocked by years of poison. A court full of weak, arrogant royals. A vault full of untouched resources. And a princess desperate enough to take a gamble on a stranger.

Maisy looked at the items on the table, then looked up at him, looking slightly confused. "Why would Princess Zaria trust someone she just met?"

Lucien leaned back, resting his hands on the table.

"Look at it this way," Lucien said easily. "Imagine you’re locked in a room with forty men. Every single one of them is a bandit, and every one of them wants to kill you. Suddenly, the door opens and a stranger walks in from the outside. He isn’t part of the group, and you don’t know who he is. In that room... who do you trust more? The forty men you know want you dead, or the stranger?"

Maisy thought about it for a second. "The stranger."

"Exactly," Lucien said, closing his hand over the bottle. "And really, it isn’t about trust at all. It’s just a trade. She has a problem, I have the solution, and we both get what we want. It’s as simple as that."