Chapter 5 — The Seven-Colored Blood of Sorrow

As the leader of the Four Seas, my authority over the Northern Sea was absolute, and its denizens were duty-bound to kneel before me. My gaze swept across their ranks, sharp and unforgiving, until it locked onto one figure: Ngoc Thu. She was the very woman who had orchestrated the death of Luc Sung Tran and her child. Yet, here she stood, draped in prosperity, her expression one of smug contentment as if she had not a care in the world.

Prince Don Hien, having received word of my arrival, hurried to meet me, his face a mask of practiced deference. "Princess, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?" he asked. I had no patience for the hypocritical man who had abandoned his own. My voice, cold as the deepest arctic frost, cut through the air: "Bring me Don Ca."

Don Hien frowned, affecting confusion. "I beg your pardon, Princess, but has my son ever had the honor of meeting you?"

I laughed—a sound as dry and cutting as parchment. "Since when," I sneered, "does the Northern Sea presume to dictate the affairs of the Eastern Sea?" My words were blades, and under my piercing glare, even the proud Prince of the North was forced to bow his head and obey.

Don Ca, the surviving son of Luc Sung Tran, was finally brought forward. The moment his eyes met mine, the boy broke away from his attendants and threw himself into my arms. "Little Aunt," he sobbed, his voice sweet and desperate, "why did you take so long to come for me?"

I froze. I realized then that when his mother had nurtured my consciousness within her own spiritual core, the boy must have felt my presence in his very soul. I spoke softly, pressing my hand to his hair. "Little Ca, do you wish to come with me to the Eastern Sea?" The child looked up, his eyes bright with a longing that pierced my heart. "Yes! I miss the East. I miss Mother."

"Princess," Don Hien interrupted, his voice laced with indignation, "how dare you attempt to snatch my son away?"

I turned a gaze devoid of warmth upon him. "If you want to know whether he wishes to stay or leave, ask him yourself." I looked down at the boy, my eyes softening. The child nodded, his determination unshakable. Without waiting for further protests, I turned on my heel, taking the child with me as we retreated to the sanctuary of the Eastern Sea.

Back in the North, Ngoc Thu and her handmaiden breathed a sigh of relief. Ever since Don Hien had discovered her true demonic nature, he had been distant, refusing to touch her or allow her near his son. Seeing an opening, the handmaiden whispered to her mistress, "The Prince was keeping you from the boy, but now that the child is in the East, this is our perfect opportunity to strike." A flicker of cruel ambition danced in Ngoc Thu’s eyes. The following day, she arrived at the Dragon Palace with carriages of offerings, desperate to gain entry.

I found her persistence tiresome, but lacked a valid pretext to banish her—until one night, while I walked the palace gardens with the boy, a group of demonic assassins emerged from the shadows. I watched them with a cold smile. The opportunity had arrived.

They were captured before they could even draw their blades. Under the weight of my interrogation, they confessed the truth: they had been sent by Ngoc Thu to strike down both me and the boy. I clapped my hands, summoning the Prince of the North and his consort to answer for these crimes.

When Ngoc Thu arrived, she rushed to the boy with a sickening display of affection. "Little Ca, come to me!" To my surprise, the boy complied, rushing into her arms. I knew from my scouts that Ngoc Thu had been using the boy to manipulate Don Hien’s emotions. Just as I reached out to intervene, the boy began to shriek, clutching his arms as if in agony. "Father! The Consort... she is hurting me!"

Don Hien rushed forward, his face pale with terror. He pulled the boy back to reveal angry, dark bruises across the child’s small skin. I saw it clearly: Ngoc Thu had not touched him. The boy had bruised himself to orchestrate this trap. It was then I understood—his affection, his willingness to speak, his public embrace—he had been waiting for this exact moment to destroy her.

Ngoc Thu fell to her knees, her face drained of color. "I did not touch him! You must believe me!"

Don Hien did not listen. He unleashed a torrent of icy, lethal energy. In a panic, Ngoc Thu cast a defensive spell, revealing her true demonic essence. The power was so great that the entire Dragon Palace trembled, defenses flaring to life. "So," she hissed, her mask of gentleness finally shattered, "a demonic princess discarded for the sake of a common shell-demon!"

Don Hien, shielding his son, looked horrified. "It was you. You framed her, didn't you? You made me kill my own daughter!"

"Yes!" Ngoc Thu laughed, a sound of pure madness. "And I would do it again for you!"

I stood by, listening to her pathetic confession with nothing but disdain.

"I intended to keep the boy as a tool," she spat, her eyes filled with venom. "If you refuse to submit to me, I will destroy you all!" She unleashed her full, twisted power, a force tainted by the aura of the Seven-Colored Pearl she had stolen from Luc Sung Tran. I leapt forward, not to strike her, but to activate the resonance of the pearl within her.

With a thunderous crash, the volatile energy inside her backfired. Ngoc Thu collapsed, her body seizing as her own stolen power tore her apart. I had rendered her helpless.

Don Hien stood over her, his expression grim. When Ngoc Thu mocked him for his weakened state, he merely looked at his son. "I gave half my divine power to the boy," he whispered.

I turned away, exhausted. "She is yours to judge," I told him, leaving the fate of the Northern Consort in his hands before retreating into seclusion to heal my shattered spirit.

My meditation lasted two hundred years. When I finally emerged, the boy had grown into the Prince of the North. I learned that Don Hien had imprisoned Ngoc Thu within the Divine Realm, condemning her to an eternal cycle of ice-torture. He had purged the demonic remnants from his lands, but the toll had been too high; he eventually perished, his icy heart failing him, leaving behind only an icy relic.

As I walked out into the light, I saw the boy—now a man—standing with his guard, waiting to greet me. "Little Aunt," he said, his voice steady and full of grace. I looked up at the vast, tranquil sea, feeling the spirit of his mother resting in the tides. She had protected him through the darkness, and now, he was strong enough to protect the world.