Tai led the handsome young man, walking slowly toward the Hall of Mental Cultivation.
Feng looked up and saw, atop the central platform of the grand hall with a few steps leading to it, a middle-aged man with fierce, commanding eyes and a deep, solemn presence seated upright. Clad in a bright yellow dragon robe and adorned with a jade crown, he exuded unparalleled majesty. His gaze gently shifted over.
"I pay my respects to Your Majesty," Feng said, slightly bowing with his hands clasped toward the emperor on the throne.
"You are excused," the emperor replied, lightly raising his hand.
Cultivators were not bound by mortal formalities. Those who surpassed the mortal realm held privileges, exempt from kneeling even before officials, and before the emperor, a simple salute sufficed.
As Feng straightened, the emperor set aside the memorial in his hand and asked, "Feng Wei, how have you found your time in the capital?"
"By Your Majesty's grace, all is well," Feng replied.
"Is that so?" The emperor chuckled, as if recalling something. "Truly, all is well?"
Feng fell silent, unsure how to respond.
For months, both righteous and demonic factions had heard rumors, flocking to the capital in droves. Yet, they had chosen to lie low, stirring no ripple. Any discerning eye could see this silence was the calm before a storm.
The righteous had their schemes, and the demonic had their plots. Feng suddenly felt worry. Though Lilith had assured him with a charming smile and innocent air that the matter had nothing to do with the Demon Sect, he wasn't naive enough to believe her fully. Her words were half-truths at best.
Perhaps the plot wasn't her doing, but Lilith was likely deep in this murky affair. Yet, Feng was torn. When the dust settled, the Immortal Sect would be drawn in. What then? If Qing, radiant as the moon, and Lilith, ethereal as a sprite, were to clash, where would he stand?
"Enough," the emperor said, seeing Feng lost in thought, silent too long. He set down the memorial, twisted his neck, and rose. Passing by the young man, he beckoned, "Walk with me."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Feng replied.
Soon, the emperor and Feng strolled beneath high palace walls, along corridors framed by vermilion pillars. Masterfully carved reliefs adorned the beams, their intricate designs bearing faint traces of time and a hint of blood.
The Imperial Garden was a marvel, gathering rare treasures from across the realm: exotic trees and flowers blooming in all seasons, their fragrance ever-present. Under the care of countless artisans and gardeners, its beauty rivaled the enchanted realms of righteous sects. Artificial mountains and streams wove through bamboo-lined paths at their feet.
"Feng Wei," the emperor began, his tone casual as he walked ahead, "what do you think of the scenery in this imperial city?"
"It embodies the finest craftsmanship, gathering the rarest wonders from all corners of the empire. Naturally, it is breathtaking," Feng replied, though his mind seemed elsewhere.
"Indeed, it is beautiful!" the emperor exclaimed, his eyes sweeping the surroundings. Even in winter, with snow blanketing the world and flowers withering elsewhere, the Imperial Garden bloomed with rare winter flora, radiant as spring. Plum blossoms swayed on branches, accentuating the snowy splendor. Such a sight was unique to this place.
He paused, reaching out to touch a budding flower, still waiting for spring to bloom, and gently caressed it. "Yet beneath this beauty, this flourishing era, I dare not relax for a moment, treading as if on thin ice."
He snapped the flower stem abruptly, his voice turning dark. "Lest one misstep sends me plummeting into the abyss. Vipers await my error, ready to slither through the cracks and strike!"
The "vipers" filling the emperor with dread were none other than Prince Tao, who had allied openly with the demonic factions.
As emperor of Bright Flower Empire, the true dragon of the realm, how could he be unaware of the demonic forces swarming beneath the city's serene facade? Their actions were a blatant disregard for his authority, a direct challenge from Prince Tao.
"Fourth Brother, Your Majesty, this is my strength," Prince Tao had declared.
According to the embroidered guard, at least a thousand demonic cultivators had entered the capital openly, with countless more lurking in the shadows. Two thousand? Three thousand? Four thousand? Or even ten thousand?
"Utterly outrageous!" the emperor fumed, though his face remained composed. How could he ignore such provocation? Yet, facing a foe who operated in the dark while he stood in the light, he knew he had to be flawless to crush them with overwhelming might.
What enraged him most was the stance of the righteous factions. They supported his rule, yet in this demonic upheaval, despite sending many prodigies, their leaders remained ambiguous, neither fully committing nor entirely aloof, as if waiting for something.
Though the righteous factions were not his subjects but partners, their equivocation was intolerable. Only Qing, as the designated heir of the Immortal Sect, and thus the sect itself, was trustworthy in his eyes. The other righteous sects were not.
Feng, wisely, kept his gaze lowered and said nothing.
The immortal sects had their own calculations. If they withheld plans from the emperor, it was likely because cooperation offered no benefit or they feared his interference. After all, Feng was merely a rogue cultivator; what did he know of such matters?
But the emperor wouldn't let him play dumb. Turning to face him, he asked, "Feng Wei, do you know anything of Prince Tao's schemes?"
"I do not," Feng replied truthfully. He genuinely had no idea what Prince Tao was plotting.
Yet he knew Prince Tao was tied to the Evil Heart Sect, home to Gongzi, and their schemes were surely intertwined. He hadn't imagined the Evil King himself had come to the capital. Otherwise, he wouldn't be so calm.
"Do you know why the late emperor chose this place for the capital?" the emperor asked, pointing to the snow-covered city.
There were many reasons: it was the late emperor's ancestral stronghold, a strategic location surrounded by mountains and rivers, and a central hub for controlling the empire's south, north, west, and trade routes. After the previous dynasty's capital burned, this was among the finest choices.
But were these the reasons the emperor meant?
Feng glanced at the emperor's stern face and shook his head. "I am unaware, Your Majesty."
The emperor's question wasn't simple. Tapping his boot on the ground, he pointed to the earth. "Beyond what geomancers and astronomers proclaimed, dragon veins, surging dragon qi, things known to all, there's more."
"This is where the Human Emperor slew the Celestial Pillar."
What?
Feng's pupils contracted in shock.
"Surprised?" the emperor said, glancing at Feng, who hid his turmoil behind a calm facade. "It's a secret, yet not entirely. Nine out of ten are ignorant, but every sect tracing back to the Immortal Era holds records of it."
In the ancient Immortal Era, gods and immortals ruled the mortal realm, a time of myth where the powerful wielded the sun and moon, overturned seas, and treated stars as dust. The Human Emperor, alongside the Demon Emperor, led tribes to victory, defeating myriad races and securing humanity's place.
After eons, the last Human Emperor swore an oath with the Heavenly Emperor: the immortal realm would no longer control the mortal world, leaving its fate to its inhabitants. He shattered the Celestial Pillar, severing the immortal and mortal realms.
The flow of immortal qi dwindled, and ascension became rare. After the previous dynasty's founder destroyed the Dragon Gate, no immortal relics or abodes remained; humanity's chance at immortality was gone.