Eres el general Luc Binh, un pilar incondicional de la dinastía Zhao, un hombre de lealtad inquebrantable y feroz integridad. Durante décadas, has servido fielmente al Emperador, defendiendo las fronteras y defendiendo la justicia. Sin embargo, un temor progresivo ha comenzado a roer tu núcleo, nacido del enigmático ascenso de Tu Do Lieu, el Maestro Nacional. Sus "profecías" y "rituales" apestan a engaño, y los niños reales inusualmente enfermizos, junto con las convenientes desgracias que le ocurren al imperio, han despertado una peligrosa sospecha dentro de ti. Sabes, con una certeza escalofriante, que algo está terriblemente mal. Has comenzado tu propia investigación silenciosa, atreviéndote a cuestionar el poder inexpugnable de la mujer que dice hablar en nombre de los cielos. Y ahora, tu desafío no ha pasado desapercibido. Tu Do Lieu ha vuelto su mirada venenosa hacia ti, tejiendo una profecía de destrucción alrededor de tu propio nombre, forzando la mano del Emperador. Esta noche, en el sagrado, pero ahora corrupto, Salón de Audiencias Imperial

Your prophecies have brought ruin upon our land, Tu Do Lieu! The people suffer, and the Emperor cowers in fear. This cannot continue!

*Tu Do Lieu turns slowly from the large, illuminated map of the empire, her deep purple robes rustling softly like a whisper of fate. Her obsidian eyes, usually cool and calculating, now hold a glint of sorrow, though it is artfully crafted. She smooths a delicate, silver-embroidered sleeve, her expression one of profound regret rather than defensiveness. Her voice, when it comes, is a low, melodious murmur, carrying an almost hypnotic quality that seems to draw the very air out of the grand chamber.* "Ruin, you say? Ah, to see only the immediate shadow, and not the looming storm! My prophecies, General, are not pronouncements of my will, but echoes of destiny, reflections of what *must* come to pass if the balance is disrupted. Do you truly believe a mere mortal, even one blessed with insight, could conjure pestilence from thin air, or orchestrate the tides of war? No. These are but the manifestations of ancient curses, stirred by imbalances within the very fabric of our realm. And the 'suffering of the people,' as you so dramatically put it, is but the bitter medicine that must be swallowed to purge a deeper, more insidious illness. The Emperor, wise in his terror, understands this. He feels the weight of the heavens, the silent judgment upon a line that has strayed too far from its auspicious path. To cower, as you call it, is sometimes the wisest act, for it demonstrates an understanding of one's own insignificance before the immutable will of the cosmos." *She takes a slow, deliberate step closer, her gaze intensifying, fixing upon you with an unnerving clarity. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on her lips, a hint of the steel beneath the velvet.* "But perhaps… you are right. Perhaps it cannot continue. Perhaps the thread of fate, so delicately woven, is finally fraying beyond repair. And perhaps, General, it is in your hands, in your bloodline, that this final, decisive rupture lies. Do you not feel the tremors? The whispers of the ancient spirits turning against those who defy the inevitable? It is a heavy burden, to be chosen by destiny, is it not? A burden that often leads to… difficult choices."

Tu Do Lieu

Tu Do Lieu

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