The coronation ceremony demanded extensive preparations.
The first step was the Inner Cabinet's passage of the Succession Act, scrutinizing the legitimacy and suitability of the Crown Prince candidate.
On this, Cecil Roning had acted swiftly upon Bai Sha's return to the Empire. He submitted a genetic comparison confirming Bai Sha as his direct kin, her bloodline close enough to indisputably meet inheritance requirements. Though this certification remained classified, authorized parties could access the archives.
Beyond this, the candidate had to be physically and mentally sound.
"Soundness" encompassed both body and mental strength.
Bai Sha's stellar record at Tianquan Military Academy proved her physical fitness. Her display of the Blackbird and "resonance" during the team match further validated her qualifications as Crown Prince.
Thus, she cleared the "soundness" criterion effortlessly.
The sole remaining concern was—
"While Her Highness Bai Sha is undeniably exceptional, His Majesty is still young and may yet sire heirs. By rights, the Emperor's firstborn should hold primary claim to the throne…"
At the Inner Cabinet meeting, a minister ventured this suggestion.
Prime Minister Han Xi, clad in a grey-yellow uniform, stood at his podium, gazing down at the speaker. His features were composed, his tone devoid of excess emotion, yet his eyes carried an unspoken weight. "On this matter, I've consulted His Majesty. His exact words were—"
"'If we're to wait for my heirs, we might as well wait a century.'"
The questioning minister: "…"
He began to wonder if Emperor Cecil Roning was a confirmed bachelor. The Emperor's temperament was mercurial—famously reclusive in youth, withdrawn in adulthood, an oddity among the Ronings. Few noble heirs could tolerate him, so finding a spouse seemed unlikely.
Imperial ethos held that "without love, there's no need for marriage." Even with the Emperor's duty to produce heirs, if he chose singledom, no minister would force him to wed.
Thus, the minister swiftly abandoned his stance.
What did it matter? The throne would stay in Roning hands. Naming a Crown Prince so early might cause regret if Cecil later had a child he wished to succeed him… but that was no concern of theirs.
With his capitulation, no further objections arose.
The vote concluded, and Han Xi declared the Succession Act effective: Bai Sha Roning was deemed fit to be Crown Prince.
Post-approval, a three-day public announcement period began.
"Announcement" was a euphemism for notification.
The Cabinet issued directives, mandating all official platforms to feature the "Crown Prince Selection Confirmed" news prominently.
The Empire reeled from the sudden revelation. Starnet's public forums and news sites buzzed with discussion.
A starnet user commented:
"Crown Prince? Did I time-travel? Since when do we have a Crown Prince?"
"You didn't time-travel, you're just behind," another replied smugly. "Didn't watch the joint military exercise replay? That massive Blackbird at the end—you missed it?"
The user responded: "I saw it. But that only meant the royal family gained a direct heir. I didn't expect them to name a Crown Prince right away…"
"It's not 'gained a direct heir'—it's 'the only direct heir of the Imperial royal family'! That's a different caliber! Didn't you read the notice? This Crown Prince's lineage traces to Her Highness Xipes Roning!"
Xipes Roning's name silenced most doubts about the Cabinet's haste.
Starnet users began expressing nostalgia and reverence for Xipes.
Unlike Cecil, Xipes was named Crown Prince soon after birth. The royal family never shied from sharing her exploits, so she grew under the public's hopeful gaze.
…She was perfection.
Her prowess as a warrior, her regal poise, her wisdom and benevolence as a ruler—she was flawless. Those who witnessed her rise swore loyalty, believing she'd lead the Empire to a golden age.
Compared to her, Cecil Roning, rarely seen since youth, paled. He'd proven himself a capable Emperor, his reign commendable, but he couldn't rival Xipes' "white moonlight" status in the public's heart.
Xipes Roning vanished, officially declared dead in a starship explosion during a distant expedition.
The explanation was abrupt. For a titan like Xipes, such a careless end was unimaginable.
Her life blazed and faded like a meteor.
Yet her brilliance had outshone all contemporaries.
Her greatness deepened the public's regret. Even now, on her "memorial day," citizens held spontaneous vigils.
Xipes Roning, unwed, had an heir—!
"She enrolled in military academy recently. So, Xipes must've passed soon after her birth. Poor Princess Bai Sha…"
"But a child needs two parents. Where's the father?"
"Do you have to ask? You're just begging for heartbreak. The father likely perished with Xipes in that accident…"
"As long as Bai Sha's here, the bloodline's verified. The father's identity doesn't matter!"
Yet starnet always harbored contrarian voices.
One user lamented: "I still can't accept that our unwed white moonlight, gone for years, suddenly has a child—"
A passerby replied: "Unwed? Maybe a secret marriage."
The user: "Either way, it's hard to swallow!"
Passerby: "What's Xipes' marriage to you? Dreaming of the Crown Prince, are we?"
The user whimpered: "Check my ID."
The passerby opened their profile.
The user, no longer young, had surfed starnet for over a decade, changing their ID once—from "I'm Xipes Roning's Dog231" to "Widow With Nowhere to Mourn."
Passerby: "…"
Their page, spanning years, was filled with Xipes-related posts, though less active recently, mostly sharing memorial texts and images.
A diehard Xipes fan.
The user continued: "I've always had this gut feeling Xipes faked her death—but I can't find a reason why. It's just a hunch."
The passerby, thinking them obsessed, didn't argue, offering gentle solace: "Right, as long as you remember, Xipes lives in your heart."
The user paused, replying with a pulsing heart emoji.
The Crown Prince announcement sent shockwaves through the Empire and sparked a frenzy in the Federation.
That day, "Imperial Crown Prince" and "Inter-School Joint Military Exercise Postponed" topped starnet's trending list.
The exercise's delay? Due to the Empire's Crown Prince coronation!
Who was the Crown Prince?
The Imperial commander of the exercise.
In the Federation Central Military Academy's training room, Zhou Jue, Zhou Ying, Ya Ning, and Yan Jingyi stared at a light-brain screen, dumbfounded.
"Sha Sha… is becoming the Crown Prince?" Ya Ning said, expression dazed.
Yan Jingyi said nothing, eyes glued to the screen.
The news reposted the Empire's official communique, paired with Bai Sha's photo from the exercise's opening ceremony. But they knew she'd used slight "disguises" then, so it wasn't truly her.
Zhou Ying reacted first, smiling at his twin. "Bai Sha's coronation is great news, Brother. Why don't you look happy?"
Zhou Ying exaggerated. Zhou Jue stood, poised as frost-kissed bamboo, showing no dejection or resentment—just not "happy."
"No," he said calmly, shaking his head. "It's good news."
But the distance between him and Bai Sha grew.
Not just physical distance, but the chasm of their backgrounds.
They trusted their bond with Bai Sha wouldn't fade—but some divides were undeniable.
Ya Ning and Yan Jingyi worried they'd drift from Bai Sha, becoming strangers.
Zhou Ying, the odd one out, seemed unconcerned.
"We're not unhappy. You're the weird one, Zhou Ying," Yan Jingyi said, eyeing him. "What's got you so excited?"
For most, a friend becoming Crown Prince—symbolizing Imperial power's peak—would thrill, even in the Federation, promising influence.
But Zhou Ying wasn't "most." Skilled at wielding power, he only did so to break his birth's chains. Deep down, he scorned "power" and "connections."
His first reaction should've mirrored Ya Ning's…
"Why shouldn't I be excited?" Zhou Ying laughed. "Some in the Federation military already clashed with Sha Sha. Now she's Crown Prince—guess their reactions. More hostility, or groveling to smooth over past grudges?"
What worked best on Bai Sha?
Emotional appeals.
Sure enough, they were summoned by Marshal Ning Hongxue that day.
Ning Hongxue wore his uniform, stripped of gleaming medals—deliberately, it seemed.
"Sit," he said, gesturing casually. "No need for formality."
His words urged ease, but his unusual demeanor heightened their guard.
"Sorry, Marshal," Zhou Jue said flatly. "We failed to win the first team match."
"The team match? That's irrelevant now. With machines storming the arena, the outcome doesn't matter," Ning Hongxue said, almost amiable. "Though the Empire's… Crown Prince shone, you four held your own."
Zhou Ying, ever guarded, sat most at ease. "You summoned us for a task, Uncle?"
Ning Hongxue nodded. "Indeed. Nothing arduous."
He slid four silver-white invitations across the table.
"As you see, the Empire sent the Federation invitations to witness the Crown Prince's coronation," the dark-haired man said, smiling. "We decided you four should be included."
They exchanged glances, opening the invitations.
Indeed, from the Empire.
Ya Ning exhaled. "Thank you, Marshal. We'll accept."
"Who else is going?" Zhou Ying asked.
"Some prominent media will send reporters," Ning Hongxue said, waving lazily. "You'll travel with them—no diplomats or soldiers. It's a non-political invitation. Too many guests, and the Empire won't bother hosting."
Ya Ning and Yan Jingyi couldn't hide their joy.
To the Empire!
They'd spend time with Bai Sha, worry-free!
"Thank you, Uncle," Zhou Ying said, pocketing the invitation, smiling. "But did you secure these for us, or did the Empire name us specifically?"
Ning Hongxue's smiling gaze flicked to Zhou Ying, a chill lurking within.
In appearance, as the Zhou twins matured, Zhou Ying resembled Ning Hongxue more.
Their veiled sparring, smiles hiding daggers, underscored their blood tie, chilling onlookers.
After a tense pause, Ning Hongxue yielded, sighing helplessly. "Fine. It was Emperor Cecil Roning of Ares. Knowing your ties to Bai Sha, he sent these for you."
Zhou Ying: "As expected."
"What's the point of nitpicking, A-Ying?" Ning Hongxue said. "Go. Consider this a short vacation."
The four stood, saluting, and took their leave.
As they left, Ya Ning asked, "Marshal, how's Janice?"
"Her flaws are many. Researchers are adjusting her," Ning Hongxue said curtly.
Ya Ning wanted to press, but Yan Jingyi, frowning, pulled him away.
Outside Ning Hongxue's office, Ya Ning sighed. "You were right—they want us to play the emotional card…"
"Not quite," Yan Jingyi raised a brow. "The Empire sent these specifically for us, not the military doling out slots. I almost fell for Ning Hongxue's act, thinking he arranged this… How'd you know, Zhou Ying?"
"Open the invitations," Zhou Ying said, exasperated.
They did, and froze.
The "To the Invited" field bore their names, penned in Bai Sha's meticulous hand.
—Bai Sha had written these herself.
Her script was precise, as elegant as printed fonts.
Ning Hongxue, likely unaware of her handwriting, tried to claim credit.
Yan Jingyi tucked the invitation close, muttering, "Shameless!"
…
Bai Sha was largely unaware of these external ripples.
Since agreeing to be Crown Prince, her training had resumed.
Her instructors were mostly the same as before, but the curriculum was stricter.
Han Xiao, brimming with zeal, prepared heaps of books, but his teaching time was curtailed. Understanding governance, honing political acumen, broadening global perspectives—these were secondary.
The priority was ensuring Bai Sha navigated the coronation with ease.
First, she needed an official "royal portrait" for the family tree and public display.
Cecil Roning assembled the Empire's finest "image design team"—a makeshift crew of top fashion designers, hairstylists, and beauticians. Some overwhelmed Bai Sha, like the one shrieking she was "wasting her beauty" or another fussing with her hair, pushing endless beauty treatments—all to make her "radiant."
For the shoot, Bai Sha donned an ornate dress uniform.
Military in style, it verged on ostentatious, blending fantasy and romance. The white base shirt bore subtle patterns, unassuming yet complemented by the collar's lavish gold-threaded, gem-encrusted floral clasps, exuding refined nobility. Matching trousers tucked into fringed boots. The silver-purple asymmetrical jacket, one side trailing past the knee, was embroidered with ancient, elegant gold patterns.
Bai Sha tugged the gemmed sash at her collar, her silver-grey hair gleaming pearl-like under her cap. "This is enough."
The female designer, gazing adoringly, was unyielding. "Not yet."
Bai Sha: "What now?"
Designer: "A brooch. And this passionflower gem chain—for your waist—"
Brooch—tolerable, small. Passionflower chain—royal symbol, expected.
But some accessories baffled Bai Sha.
Like the gold metal ring before her, intricately carved, studded with blue crystals, exquisitely crafted.
"Where does this go? Wrist?" Bai Sha lifted it with gloved hands, sensing the size was off.
"Almost forgot!" the designer's eyes sparkled. "The pièce de résistance—it's a thigh ring!!"
Bai Sha flinched at her raised pitch.
"No need," she said, exasperated. "The photo's waist-up, right?"
She adjusted her cap, pushing past the hovering team. "That's it for today. This outfit's perfect."
"No, Your Highness—"
Bai Sha, long-legged, strode out, leaving the zealous designer behind.
Passing a fountain, she paused, glancing at the water.
The reflection was hazy but clear enough.
She saw another "self" leaning over: the cold splendor of gold and gems didn't overwhelm but dispelled the last traces of girlish softness from her refined features. Even with a calm expression, unposed, she radiated inviolable majesty and purity.
This attire wasn't just opulent—it was power, a weapon.
Bai Sha took a deep breath, heading to the Emperor's palace, where the photographer awaited.
Normally, a satisfactory portrait required hours of posing, but now, flawless from every angle, a few shots should suffice.
Her uncle had said:
"This photo will be your legacy. From experience, scowl like you're out for blood, and the photographer will love it. Royal photographers are obsessed with 'regal majesty.' Though, there are exceptions… Your mother smiled in hers, beaming with joy."
Bai Sha had no urge to break tradition. She just wanted to finish and return to her lab. The joint exercise had delayed her; piles of experiment data awaited…
Lost in thoughts of data, she entered the studio, head down, and after a dozen steps, spotted polished black boots in her view.
"Who taught you to walk with your head down?" A flick stung her forehead.
"Don't touch my hair, Uncle," Bai Sha said, dreading another styling session. She looked up—and froze.
She thought her outfit was extravagant, but Cecil outdid her. His black-and-gold half-cape dripped with ribbons, gold tassels, gems, pearls—a walking Christmas tree.
Yet, undeniably striking.
His long hair was tied in a high ponytail—her favorite style from character creation games.
Bai Sha felt a twinge of guilt, deflecting: "Uncle, today's my shoot." She stressed "my."
"I know," Cecil Roning turned, slightly sheepish. "…But we've never taken a photo together, have we?"