The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 34: The Weapon Wakes

Chapter 34: The Weapon Wakes

The throne room of Daiyu’s Imperial Palace gleamed like lacquered gold beneath morning light. Sunlight filtered through red-paneled windows, casting long shadows across polished wood and the dragon-carved dais. Ministers stood at attention in tightly ordered rows, their hands tucked into their sleeves, their faces carefully blank. Every breath was calculated. Every silence, deliberate.

Whether they liked each other or not, they only had one common goal when the Emperor sat upon his throne. And that was to make it out of the hall alive.

Wearing silks embroidered with phoenix and fire, the Emperor lounged like a lion at rest, bored yet watchful. A single ring, black jade set with gold, adorned his right hand, but he didn’t wear any other jewelry. His gaze was sharp, not dulled by age, and it was clear that he was becoming impatient.

"General Sun Longzi," he said finally, tone like falling glass. "You return empty-handed." His words were soft, almost like a kind and loving father welcoming his son back from a trip, but there was a hint of steel under his pleasant words.

Sun Longzi stepped forward, bowing low. The red cloak of the Red Demon Army flared behind him as he waited in the middle of the hall, ministers on both sides of him. "Your Majesty, I do not return empty-handed. I return with a report and a warning."

"A warning," the Emperor repeated, somewhat amused. "From a man who failed to secure a single mountain? Proceed. Let’s see what type of warning you bring me."

"The weapon guarding Daiyu’s western frontier is not a device, nor a troop. It is a woman. One who cannot be controlled, only contained. We encountered her on two separate occasions. The first, she killed 44 of my men. The second time, she allowed us to leave unharmed. Had we tried to force her..." Sun Longzi paused, choosing his next words with care. "There would be no Red Demon Army left to speak of."

The court murmured, disturbed as both sides of the aisle looked at each other. However, the Emperor only had to raise a single finger before silence fell.

"You fear her," he murmured, cocking his head to the side as he studied the Demon Lord. For a long time now, the Emperor had been wary of the Demon Lord. He controlled the most powerful army in the Daiyu kingdom. It was a well-known fact that they didn’t obey anyone or anything, other than the Demon Lord.

That type of power could not be in the hands of someone he couldn’t trust... And yet, he is scared of a simple woman.

If the world found out about it, he would be the laughing stock of all five kingdoms.

"I respect her," Sun Longzi replied, dipping his head just a bit more. "And I chose survival. For both my men and for Daiyu."

"So you bring me a tale. And no proof."

Sun Longzi did not flinch. "I bring you the truth. The weapon was too dangerous to bring back. In the interest of Daiyu, I... destroyed it."

A beat of stunned silence. Then chaos.

Ministers exploded into protest. Voices clashed, opinions surged, some accusing, others afraid. Words like traitor, coward, and madman darted through the air like poisoned arrows, but Sun Longzi didn’t flinch.

It was a calculated risk. But having Zhao Xinying in the capital would bring nothing but destruction and death. And that was only if she was in a good mood.

The Emperor didn’t move, still studying Sun Longzi, trying to figure out what game he was now trying to play.

And then the doors opened.

Slowly. Grandly.

A breeze stirred the silken banners. Two guards stepped aside as Zhu Lianhua, Third Prince of Daiyu, entered like a storm wrapped in silk. His robes were pure white, with silver embroidery, and his smile was edged in venom.

Behind him, a single guard wheeled in a large wooden trunk.

Zhu Deming froze.

Sun Longzi’s jaw tightened.

Zhu Lianhua bowed low, too low to be respectful.

"Forgive the interruption, Father," he said silkily. "But I felt compelled to correct a certain...inaccuracy."

The Emperor narrowed his eyes. "What have you done, Lianhua?"

"Only what your general could not." Lianhua smiled brightly as he pulled out a white fan. Opening it with a flick of his wrist, he started gently fanning himself before gesturing to the trunk. "You see, the Demon Lord lacked the stomach to capture the weapon. Fortunately, I do not share his aversion to results."

One of the guards moved around to the large golden lock that kept the lid of the trunk closed. With a slight twist of his wrist, the trunk was unlocked with a quiet click.

Moving around to the side, the guard paused for a second before opening the lid.

And every voice in the throne room vanished.

Inside the wooden trunk lay a small woman, curled up on herself as she slept.

Her hair spilled over folded linen like melted obsidian, her lashes long against ivory skin. She wore simple robes, a dark green dress without embroidery. She looked like a fairy from the woods as she breathed in slowly, her chest moving up and down with every breathe she took.

And wrapped around her neck was a dark green ribbon.

Zhao Xinying.

The weapon.

The monster.

The myth.

The Emperor rose slowly, taking one step forward. "I thought we were speaking of a weapon."

However, before he could say another word, the words caught in his throat.

He stared at her, absolutely fixated as her lashes fluttered.

There was a slight gasp as the ministers who could see inside the trunk held their breath.

A hush fell like snow.

Ever so slowly, Zhao Xinying opened her eyes.

She didn’t move right away. Instead, she blinked once, then twice, letting her gaze wander lazily over the room of stunned ministers, wide-eyed guards, and two men who really should have known better.

Then she sat up.

There was no fear in her. No panic. No shame.

Only calm.

Controlled.

Lethal.

She stretched her neck to one side with a faint crack, then the other. Her voice was low, amused. "Well," she murmured, her smile slow and sharp. "This is certainly one way to wake up."

The Emperor took a step closer. His eyes never wavered from her as if she were some rare beast brought back from legend.

"You..." he whispered. "You are the weapon?"

Zhao Xinying’s head tilted, her bright blue eyes catching the light.

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "I can’t say I’ve ever considered myself a weapon. But I guess, since I could kill everyone in this room with a flick of my wrist... I am a weapon. Should I try it?"

The guards reacted to her threat long before the Emperor could pull himself away from her eyes. "You wouldn’t," came a voice from somewhere in the hall.

"I wouldn’t," she agreed, her eyes meeting Zhu Deming for a moment before returning to the Emperor. "After all, if I did that, then this story would end much too quickly."

She paused, her attention completely focused on the Emperor. Then her lips curved into a smile. "And Uncle Dimitri wouldn’t be happy if I let that happen."

Gasps.

Silence.

Then—

The Emperor laughed.

Not a chuckle. Not mockery.

Laughter.

Loud, rich, and echoing like thunder across lacquered walls.

"Wonderful," he said, still smiling, eyes gleaming with something dark and fascinated. "Truly wonderful."

He extended a hand.

"Come, my dear. Let us see what kind of story we can make... together."

Zhao Xinying looked at the offered hand.

Then at the throne.

Then, finally, she once again gazed at Zhu Deming. He had inched forward without even realizing it, his eyes burning with something that couldn’t quite be called relief or rage or fear. It was all of them. All at once.

She met his eyes and smiled gently, fingering the ribbon on her neck... right before she took the Emperor’s hand and stepped out of the trunk.