The funeral rites continued; the scent of incense was thick in the air as solemn prayers and mourning whispers filled the ceremonial grounds.
Priests clad in dark ceremonial robes stood in a semi-circle, chanting soft incantations meant to guide the departed soul toward the Heavens Path.
Their voices blended with the distant toll of bells.
Zhao Tian remained silent, standing beside Zhou Hanyue.
Though he showed no outward grief, his mind was clouded with thoughts, memories of battles fought and the countless lives that had been lost along the way—including Yao Jing's.
The thought of her absence sent a dull ache through his chest, but he pushed it aside.
There would be time to grieve later.
Zhou Hein stepped forward once more.
Raising a golden censer filled with smoldering incense, he bowed deeply before his father's body.
"As we send our Emperor to the afterlife, let us remember his legacy,"
