Chapter Text
Author’s pov :
The training courtyard of the Jiàn kingdom reeked of iron and death.
Bodies littered the ground, some groaning, most silent, their blood seeping into the sand. At the center of the massacre stood Hua Yong, the twenty-three-year-old crown prince—tall, broad-shouldered, his sword dripping crimson.
His chest barely rose with exertion, though he had just cut down ten of his best soldiers in one sweep of training. His obsidian eyes were cold, lifeless, as though slaughter were no different than breathing.
“Pathetic,” he muttered, his voice sharp as steel. “This is the best Jiàn can offer me?”
A captain staggered forward, clutching a broken spear. “Y-Your Highness… they are only men. They cannot match you—”
The words hadn’t finished leaving his mouth when Hua Yong struck. A flicker of silver steel, and the captain’s throat opened in a neat red smile. The man crumpled. Hua Yong didn’t even blink.
The soldiers watching from the sidelines trembled. None dared move. None dared speak. To Hua Yong, human life was nothing more than a tool, a fleeting breath in his path to power.
He tossed his blade aside, bored. “Train harder. Or die faster. I don’t care which.”
Then, with a flick of his crimson-stained cloak, he walked away—ruthless, merciless, untouchable.
For Hua Yong, there was only one thing worth his attention, one person who had ever stirred something beyond indifference in his chest. And for that, he was ready to cross kingdoms, to play the fool, to shed his pride.
---
Far away in the kingdom of Lùn, another crown prince stood at a bedside heavy with the smell of incense and medicine.
Sheng Shao You bowed his head, fists clenched at his sides, as the royal healers finished their words.
“Your Majesty,” one said softly, “the king’s illness is beyond us. His Majesty’s body grows weaker by the day. He may not have much time.”
Shao You’s almond-brown eyes burned, though he forced his expression to remain steady. His father—his guide, his king—lay pale against the silken pillows, his breaths shallow. The weight of the throne, once shared, was now pressing fully onto his own shoulders.
The old king’s voice rasped, frail but still carrying the tone of command. “Shao You… the kingdom is yours to protect now. Do not falter. Do not… let them see weakness.”
Shao You swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing a nod. “I won’t, Father.”
He turned his face slightly, so the old man could not see the way his lashes trembled, the way he blinked too hard to keep tears at bay.
He had no time for grief. No time for weakness. His kingdom needed him strong, intelligent, unshakable.
And yet, deep inside, a guilt clawed at him—the guilt of wishing for his father’s presence while knowing the inevitable.
Two princes.
Two crowns.
Two paths destined to collide—one soaked in blood, the other burdened by duty.
And neither knew how dangerous their meeting would be.
---
The clang of swords still echoed faintly in the distance when Shen Wen Lang entered the courtyard. His dark eyes swept over the carnage left behind by Hua Yong’s training session—the scattered bodies, the blood soaking the sand. He smirked, leaning lazily against a pillar, arms crossed.
“You do realize, Yong, that one day you’ll kill all your soldiers and then who’ll be left to protect your precious crown?”
Hua Yong didn’t turn, wiping the last streak of blood from his blade. “If they can’t withstand me, they’re useless on the battlefield.”
“Ah, spoken like a heartless monster,” Wen Lang drawled, his tone sarcastic as always. “Remind me again why I waste my time with you?”
“Because you’re just as heartless,” Hua Yong shot back coolly.
Wen Lang’s lips curled into a sharp grin. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his presence radiating authority even without a crown. But his eyes carried a coldness rooted deep within—an unhealed wound. He hated omegas, despised them with venom. His own mother had abandoned him when he was young, running away with another alpha and leaving her son to face the scorn of the palace alone. To him, omegas were weak, fickle, unworthy of loyalty.
Hua Yong was the only one Wen Lang tolerated, perhaps because they were alike—merciless, unflinching, yet bound together by a strange loyalty no one else could understand.
“Someday, your obsession will be your downfall,” Wen Lang said casually, watching Hua Yong sheath his sword.
Hua Yong’s eyes flickered, sharp as daggers. “Careful, Wen Lang. You’re the only one I allow to speak like that. Don’t test how far that privilege goes.”
Wen Lang chuckled, completely unfazed. “Arrogant as always. That’s why we get along.”
They bickered, as they always did, but under the sharp words was trust—the kind forged only through shared bloodshed.
---
Meanwhile, far from the gilded palace, life was cruel in the quiet villages.
Gao Tu, barely nineteen, knelt in the dirt outside his father’s hut, his lip split, his cheek swollen from another blow. His father’s voice rang harshly above him:
“Useless boy! You present as an omega, and for what? Shame! Do you know what disgrace you bring to this family? You’re no son of mine!”
The older man’s hand cracked across Gao Tu’s face again. The boy flinched but did not fight back. He never did.
“I didn’t choose it, Father,” Gao Tu whispered, voice trembling. His wide, almond eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “I didn’t ask to be born this way…”
“You think that excuses your weakness?!” his father spat, shoving him into the dirt. “You’ll never be anything. A plaything for alphas, nothing more!”
Gao Tu bit down on his lip until it bled, refusing to cry aloud. He knew tears would only anger his father more. His life was small, fragile—bound by poverty, by cruelty, by the chains of his birth.
Yet even as despair filled his chest, a tiny flame of defiance flickered deep within him. One day, he thought, someone would see him as more than weakness.
But for now, Gao Tu was just another unwanted omega, beaten down by the world that scorned him.
Two worlds.
Two different fates.
An Alpha who despised omegas, and A peasant omega despised for his nature.