Power Up Artist Yang - Chapter 344

It didn’t take her long to realize a few things.

He was the Prince of Qing, Fu Hansong. As the younger brother of the current Emperor, people flocked to him naturally. He did not need to do anything. With a sweep of his hand, a word off his tongue, hundreds would be willing to bet their lives and trust their families in his hands, all for the sake of fortune and power. He did not lack people, nor did he lack support.

Because of that, once he brought her back to his palace, she did not see him for months.

He had graceful maids to serve him, each one prettier than the next. He had trained soldiers to fight for him, each one stronger than the next. He had tacticians to scheme for him, each one wiser than the next.

She was not beautiful. She was not skilled. And nor was she wise.

As someone the prince did not favor, there was barely a place for her in the palace, as grand and large it was. The food she ate were scraps, the tasks she completed the dirtiest and least desirable. She lived serving the servants of servants, but at least, she figured, it was better than living on the streets, with no knowledge and no connections. Out there, anything could happen to her, but in this lonely palace, at least no one would dare touch the girl the prince brought back. They only dared to give her the worst tasks, the worst conditions.

The longer she spent in that palace, the more she came to know of this. The longer she spent in that palace, the more determined she grew to change. Staring at the golden walls, the vivid silks, and the priceless jewels, she knew she did not want to live her current life, dressed in rags, forever. She could not remain content with her current lifestyle.

Palaces did that to the hearts of people. It whispered the promises of prestige; it sang the melodies of luxury. Anyone in there for long enough would grow to yearn for power. And there was only one way for that power: to prove oneself.

So, to prove herself, she trained.

She knew that with a face like hers, she could not win favor with beauty. Access to the library for someone like her would also be too difficult. But picking up a sword? Mimicking the movements of soldiers from behind an edge? She could do that.

Time spent in the palace taught her how to walk in shadows without being seen. It taught her strength and stamina with lugging water and manure barrels. It also taught her tricks of the hand: how to nick an item without being seen, how to pick a lock. Learning swordsmanship, compared to all of those, was not difficult. Fashioning her own straw dummies was not a struggle either. Practicing at the break of dawn, at just the slightest splinter of daylight, was hardly a hassle.

More months passed. Seasons came and went.

On the day she became good enough to provide a good fight for the top soldiers, she knew she was good enough.

And so, she went to find him.

He was sitting in his palace, reading a scroll. When she went to him, he looked up. In his eyes, there was no surprise. He knew eventually, she would come find him. All this time, he had been waiting for her.

She asked him if she could serve him.

She told him it was not enough.

He replied that neither was she enough.

At this, she blinked. Then, she went back to training. She needed to be stronger.

She trained until her hands bled, but that was not enough. She trained until she could barely move from soreness, but that was not enough. She trained in the snow, in the rain, in the blazing heat of the sun, but that was not enough.

When she became good enough to take down countless soldiers in a row, all by herself, she went to him again.

It was the same response. Not enough.

She asked him when it would be. He told her they would both know when it was.

She trained until she was one with the sword. She then trained with daggers, with spears, with bows, with sabers, with halberds. She trained without a weapon, pushing her body to the limits day by day until she was stronger than all the soldiers, faster than the wind itself. After that, as much as she practiced in the light, she practiced more in the darkness. She learned the art of completely melding in the shadows. She learned how to scale walls, how to hang from rooftops, how to know her surroundings even in the darkest of nights, how to run in pure silence, and how to slaughter things— animals—  without making a sound.

Seasons came and went again. At the end of all of this, when she was sure that it was enough, that was when he agreed. It was enough.

He gave her the name of a government official. She knew what he needed her to do. It only took a quick blade and an extra trip outside at midnight to get the job done.

It was not the first time she had seen someone die. Yet it was the first time she had taken a human life with her own hands. She thought she was mentally prepared. But as she did so, she recalled something: a flicker of a memory like a warm smile, then the image of that bandit from when the Prince of Qing saved her dying by his sword. It cut through her head in burning pain, but she did not allow it to disturb her task at hand.

Days later, she would forget it even happened.

From then on, she would serve the prince with all her loyalty. He would give her names, and she would take care of them. He would give her orders, and she would carry them out without even blinking her eyes. She followed him from the comforts of the palace to the brutal battlefield. There was not a second where she left his side. She became known as the prince’s shadow, but only to a few. Just like a good shadow, most did not know of her existence.

The longer she spent with him, the more she knew about him.

She learned that the Prince of Qing was not a position as luxurious as others may have thought. He may have been the brother of the Emperor, but that placed him in the battle for the throne. He could choose to sacrifice his life by openly going against the Emperor, or he could choose to keep his neck on his head by leading a humble life. He chose neither. Just like how she was his shadow, he worked in the shadows as well. He may have had all the people he needed, but they treated him with only greed in their eyes: the most easily bought and the most easily sold value.

The others may have been more beautiful, more wise. They could have even been stronger than her. But she had something none of them had, and it was her loyalty to him. He needed someone like her, just as much as she needed him.

She was there for him in his darkest times. She was there for him when he felt the most alone, the most helpless. She was there for him whenever he needed her.

Over time, she realized she did not do this for the temptations of power the palace offered. The prince awarded her power, awarded her titles, awarded her gold and silver, awarded her every precious item he came across. But she did not need those.

From the very start, from the moment she first saw him, standing in his armor, in the midst of the ruins and wreckage, dust billowing in the wind, it had all been for him.

His smile was more precious than any jewel. His praise was more valuable than any power or title.

He gave her her name. He gave her her life. He gave her a sense of purpose. In all of her memories, the only person that shone was him. Fu Hansong. The Prince of Qing.

She needed him. And yet… he did not think the same.

When she thought that she could express her feelings, he only smiled. Gave a light laugh. He patted her head, then said, “Xianyue, my Xianyue, do you not know that lovers are blinded fools? To yearn is to distract. To cherish is to inevitably lose. And so, let us not.”

She realized, at that moment, that what she mistook for his need for her was simply his need for a girl with no past. He needed her namelessness, her apathy, and her loyalty. He did not need her. It was never her. From the start to now, it had never been her. And it never would be.

But at that point, it was too late.

He called lovers blinded fools. That was what she was: a blinded, crippled fool, blurred by the thought of intangible, unrequited love. She realized love was impossible, but this realization was all too late. She had been falling into this spiral for years now, and there was no way out.

She continued serving him. She continued having her fingertips stained with blood. She continued practicing the art of the blade, in hopes that it would be enough. That she would be enough.

She thought her blindness could never be cured. She did not want it to be cured either. She thought she would be happy serving him until the end of time. She thought if she could not have more, she would be content with what she had. His smile. His praise.

But she could not keep walking in darkness forever. The day when she opened her eyes came.