111: Chapter 111 The Terror of the Ancestral Shamans at the Imperial Ancestral Temple

Jian Tanghuang's heart skipped a beat, as if gripped tightly by an invisible hand, causing her to miss a heartbeat.

She instantly sat up straight, all traces of her casual and relaxed demeanor vanishing without a trace. Her almond-shaped eyes widened as she asked urgently, "They want to move against Senior Brother?!"

"It's hard to say." Jian Xiaotian's voice was as heavy as dark iron soaked in icy water. Every word carried the gravity and uncertainty from the depths of a political whirlpool—that uncertainty was not hesitation, but rather the inability of even an emperor like him to see how deep those muddy waters truly ran. "The old grudges between the Great Wu Dynasty and the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches are tangled and bottomless."

"That matter regarding your Senior Brother's mother back then... the water is too deep. Who knows how many skeletons lie buried at the bottom, and the involved powers are so complex that even I, as an emperor, dare not easily touch or dig into it."

His gaze fell heavily upon Jian Tanghuang's face. Beyond the depth of an emperor, it added a touch of genuine fatherly concern—a concern so thick that even the authority he deliberately maintained could not suppress it:

"That kid's return this time is clearly to settle old scores and uncover the truth of what happened back then. This pool of stagnant water that has been silent for over a decade will likely soon be stirred into monstrous waves by him, sweeping across the entire Southern Region."

He paused, his tone becoming more earnest, like any father who knows he cannot dissuade his child but tries anyway:

"You are from the same Sect and share a deep bond as Senior Brother and Junior Sister, so it is only right to look after him in private."

"But your father must warn you—do not get dragged in too deeply. The Shenwu Dynasty can naturally protect you, but if a storm that directly involves the roots of the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches strikes... even with the power of the entire nation, we might not be able to escape unscathed."

"Father," Jian Tanghuang furrowed her brows. Those brows, usually full of spirit, were now slightly knitted, like two crossed sword blades. Her tone was filled with confusion and intense curiosity, "What kind of existence are the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches, really...?"

When she was at the Xuantian Sect, she had occasionally heard this name from her Revered Master or older fellow disciples, knowing only that it was an extremely ancient and mysterious sacrificial organization in the Southern Region with a transcendent status.

Yet she had never imagined that behind these four light words lay such a heart-palpitating weight, capable of making her father, an emperor who ruled over one side, show such a grave and wary expression—an expression she had never seen on his face from childhood to adulthood.

Jian Xiaotian's index finger, which had been tapping the armrest, suddenly stopped in mid-air.

The "tap, tap" sound ceased abruptly, as if choked by an invisible hand.

The air in the hall seemed to freeze instantly, and even the leaping flames of the candles seemed to slow down for a beat. The light in his suddenly somber eyes became dim and flickering, like two embers about to extinguish.

This gaze seemed to fall instantly into the depths of a boundless, pitch-black cold pool—the things hidden within, he had never spoken of to anyone, but now, he had to reveal a corner of it.

"The Tai Miao Ancestral Witches..."

He spoke slowly, his voice carrying a nearly stifling weight. Every word seemed to be squeezed out with difficulty from the depths of his chest, from between his teeth, by some invisible force.

The voice did not sound like it came from an emperor, but rather like someone who had been trapped in darkness for too long, struggling to recall what light looked like.

"They claim to be the 'Messengers of God' passed down since the ancient era, guarding the Luck and Legacy of the entire Southern Region."

"They control the sacrificial ceremonies of the three great royal families and even all top-tier powers, possessing the right to interpret 'Heavenly Mandate' and 'National Luck'."

"They can even... influence the succession of the throne and select the so-called 'Child of Heavenly Mandate'."

The corners of his mouth curled into a cold, almost mocking arc. There was no smile in that arc, only a bitter mockery that had been suppressed for too long:

"Even I, as an emperor, must pay the respects of a Junior to their high and mighty High Priest on the surface, and yield to them by three points."

"But in reality..."

Jian Xiaotian's voice suddenly turned cold, like an ice pick piercing the silence. The chill was so heavy that even the candles in the hall flickered violently, as if blown by some invisible wind:

"They are a group of... parasites hiding under the cloak of the most ancient and sacred Legacy."

"They are a... tumor that has attached itself to the lifeblood of the Southern Region's Luck, feeding on thousands of years of blood and essence."

The last two words burst from between his teeth, carrying hatred that had been suppressed for who knows how many years.

Jian Tanghuang immediately put down the half-eaten candied fruit she was holding, her body leaning forward involuntarily. There was no trace of playfulness in her eyes, only an unprecedented solemnity and awe—she knew that what her father was about to say would be ancient secrets, considered absolute taboos, that might not even be fully recorded in the deepest archives of the Shenwu Imperial Palace.

Those secrets were at the very core and darkest parts of the Southern Region's power; once spoken, they could never be taken back.

"As early as three thousand years ago," Jian Xiaotian's voice dropped even lower, as low as the flow of an underground river, cold, slow, and carrying the dampness of ten million years without seeing the sun.

He even subconsciously cast a lightning-fast glance toward the empty and silent hall door, as if hidden eyes were spying from the invisible shadows—this glance was too fast, almost impossible to capture, but Jian Tanghuang saw it; she saw the bone-deep vigilance that flashed across her father's eyes, "The core leadership of the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches secretly mastered a... extremely bizarre and evil 'Blood Sacrifice Spirit-Seizing Technique'."

"This technique can use the essence blood and souls of a large number of living beings as offerings to sacrifice to some indescribable 'Ancient Existence', exchanging them for a short-term surge in power, and even... forcibly extending Lifespan to defy the Reincarnation of the Heavenly Dao."

Jian Tanghuang's breath hitched slightly.

The half-eaten candied fruit was still pinched between her fingertips, but she had forgotten its existence, only feeling a chill crawling up her back, creeping up her spine vertebra by vertebra, so cold that she almost wanted to shiver.

"Back then, when your Imperial Grandfather was on the throne, he was in his prime, wise and decisive."

"He secretly verified the brutality and viciousness of this technique. Unable to stand the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches using this evil technique to harm the innocent and shake the foundations of the nation, he once wanted to secretly unite with several allied vassal kings and major Sect leaders to find an opportunity to completely ban this evil technique and even uproot the power of the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches."

Jian Xiaotian closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his eyes were filled with deep pain and coldness—the pain was so deep, as if something had been gouged out from within, and it had yet to heal:

"As a result... before the plan could even be truly implemented, less than half a year later, your Imperial Grandfather suddenly 'passed away from illness'."

"The imperial physicians diagnosed it as an acute illness, incurable by medicine. But the old servants who had served in the palace for a lifetime all knew in their hearts... that it was definitely not an illness."

"It was the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches who used some means we still cannot investigate to this day to deal the fatal blow."

When he said the words "fatal blow", his voice trembled almost imperceptibly—that was the instinctive pain that a son could not suppress no matter what when mentioning his father's tragic death.

"Since then," he picked up the teacup on the table that had long since gone cold, his fingertips unconsciously and repeatedly stroking the cold porcelain wall, the movement mechanical and numb, as if stroking a wound that could never heal, "successive emperors have turned a blind eye to the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches."

"They even... had to deliberately curry favor, scouring for rare treasures and heaven-sent earthly treasures every year, sending them up in the name of 'Offerings', just to barely sit firmly on this... seemingly supreme, but actually needle-prick-like dragon throne."

"On the surface, they are transcendent and uninvolved in worldly affairs, hiding behind the high walls and deep courtyards of the Imperial Ancestral Temple that isolate them from the outside world."

"In the dark, however, they have cultivated countless death-sworn warriors, controlling more than half of the Southern Region's cultivation resources and power networks. Even in the imperial courts of the three great dynasties... they have long planted deep-seated secret agents and spies."

His voice grew colder and colder, carrying a bloody scent like rust. That bloody scent was not a metaphor; it was real—as if while he was saying these words, his nose could again smell the lingering scent of blood that filled the imperial palace that night back then:

"Whoever dares to touch their fundamental interests, the outcome... is often horrific. Three thousand years ago, there was once the 'Wu Heaven Kingdom' that almost unified the Southern Region and dominated the world. Its national power was at its peak, and wherever its military might pointed, no one dared to disobey."

"Its monarch, because he was unwilling to be manipulated by the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches and refused to offer the royal secret Cultivation Technique and half of the national treasury's collection as 'Offerings'..."

Jian Xiaotian raised his eyes and looked at Jian Tanghuang, enunciating every word. The gaze was too heavy, so heavy that it seemed to want to brand every word into her memory, never to be forgotten in this lifetime:

"Overnight, the capital of the Wu Heaven Kingdom turned into a ghost realm, the royal Bloodline was slaughtered to the last, and even infants still in swaddling clothes were not spared."

"The massive Empire fell apart and remains the heaviest stroke of blood-red in the history books of the Southern Region to this day. And the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches... remain transcendent, untouched by a single leaf."

Jian Tanghuang's brows knitted into a knot, her knuckles clenching involuntarily, her fingernails digging deep into the soft flesh of her palms. She was completely unaware of the pain, only feeling a fire burning in her chest, burning until her throat felt dry:

"Then why are they keeping such a close watch on Senior Brother? Just because... he is the direct Bloodline of the former Dynasty's Xuanyuan Clan?"

"Not just that." Jian Xiaotian shook his head, his gaze becoming more complex, like tangled hemp, impossible to unravel or cut, "The previous head of the Xuanyuan Clan, Xuanyuan Zhen, who is your Senior Brother's maternal grandfather, was a true iron-blooded hero, with heaven-reaching cultivation and an unyielding backbone."

"Back then, he led his most elite 'Xuanyuan Iron Cavalry', with thunderous momentum, to encircle and annihilate a secret altar set up by the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches in the Northern Border wilderness."

"Beneath the altar... were buried the corpses of tens of thousands of slaves and prisoners of war from various clans, who had been drained of their essence blood and were nothing but skin and bones."

"Xuanyuan Zhen not only destroyed the altar and killed the three great Protectors presiding over the sacrifice, but also exposed the shocking conspiracy of the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches attempting to use the essence blood of ten thousand people to Cultivate some forbidden evil technique—although it was quickly suppressed by the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches' powerful control over public opinion, this matter has become a bone-deep shame and hatred for them."

"Later, when the shocking palace coup occurred in the Great Wu Dynasty, on the surface, it was the Martial King's ambition and rebellion."

"But according to the clues our Shenwu Imperial Clan has investigated at all costs over the years... behind the scenes, the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches definitely played a role in fanning the flames, and even provided key support."

"They just wanted to use the Martial King, this sharpest blade, to completely eliminate the Xuanyuan Clan, this heart-and-gut trouble, to end the trouble once and for all."

He sighed heavily. This sigh was filled with powerlessness and coldness—the powerlessness of an emperor is heavier than anyone else's, because it was not sighed for himself, but for the entire Dynasty:

"If it weren't for your Senior Brother's uncle, Xuanyuan Zhandao, who was guarding the border at the time, and upon hearing the news, disregarded everything to lead his army in a night dash to reinforce, and even made a Breakthrough to the Mahayana Realm in the midst of the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, using invincible combat power to forcibly suppress and kill the Martial King, stabilizing the overall situation... the Southern Region today would likely no longer have the existence of the word 'Xuanyuan'."

"And now, your Senior Brother has returned. They fear he will investigate the old case and uncover the bloody truth of that year; what they fear even more... is his Heaven-Defying cultivation talent and growth speed."

Speaking of this, Jian Xiaotian's tone suddenly deepened, carrying a coldness that saw through the essence—that coldness was the most instinctive reaction of an emperor facing a threat, unrelated to emotion, related to survival:

"However, these may all be secondary. The most fundamental thing is—that kid's talent is simply too shocking."

"Given time, if he is allowed to grow up smoothly, he will surely become a peak existence that towers above all powers in the Southern Region."

"At that time, the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches' set of relying on seniority and manipulating everything will be useless in the face of his absolute power. This is something the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches absolutely cannot tolerate."

"What they are best at is to nip threats in the bud with the most cruel and thorough means... to root them out."

Jian Tanghuang's fists were already clenched tightly, her knuckles turning a pale, bluish-white color. That blue color was not from cold air, but from the anger that her blood could not overcome. A fierce look like cold stars splashed in her eyes, carrying killing intent:

"They dare! As long as I am here for one day, I will never allow them to harm Senior Brother in the slightest!"

The voice was not loud, but every word was like iron, tempered with all her determination.

"You think they wouldn't dare?" Jian Xiaotian looked at her, his tone filled with deep helplessness and a sense of powerlessness when facing a behemoth—that helplessness was not a father's compromise to his daughter, but an emperor's most sober and bitter realization when facing an unshakeable mountain, "The current High Priest of the Tai Miao Ancestral Witches is an old monster who has lived for who knows how many tens of thousands of years, with cultivation already having one foot stepped into the legendary Undergoing Tribulation Stage, unfathomably deep."

"Under their seat, there are also the 'Twelve Yuan Chen Protectors', each a terrifying existence who has been immersed in the Late Mahayana Stage for countless years. Together, they are invincible in the Southern Region."

"In this world... there is simply no single power that dares to openly make an enemy of them."

He paused, and his tone eventually softened, carrying a father's deepest affection and worry for his daughter. That affection was so thick that even his dignity as an emperor could not cover it up:

"That is why Father insists you be careful. It is not because I fear you cannot help him, but because I fear that by protecting him, you will be seen as a 'thorn in the side' that must be removed by those unscrupulous, vindictive madmen in the Imperial Ancestral Temple! At that time... even if I stake the entire national fortune of the Shenwu Dynasty, I may not... be able to keep you safe."

Jian Tanghuang took a deep breath. The scorching heat in her chest, churned up by anger and a desire to protect her own, slowly settled with this deep breath. The heat sank from her chest, down into her Dantian, into her limbs and bones, and finally transformed into something heavy and cold, pressing down at the bottom of her heart.

The impulsive, fierce look that was about to erupt from her eyes was gradually replaced by a more composed, more resilient gravity. This gravity did not belong to a young girl; it looked more like a warrior who had just received some kind of Legacy, having made a clear and firm choice after seeing the path ahead.

She raised her eyes, looked at her father, and nodded heavily. Every word was clear and powerful, as if carved into stone with a knife: "Father, rest assured, I have my own plans. This matter concerns Senior Brother's life and has far-reaching implications. I will never act recklessly or show off for a moment of bravery."

"I will... navigate this carefully. I will neither sit idly by nor let myself be easily trapped and become a liability."

Upon hearing this, a clear flash of relief finally crossed Jian Xiaotian's eyes. His previously tense lips softened imperceptibly. The heavy pressure belonging to an emperor also quietly dissipated, revealing the deep fatherly affection hidden beneath—that tenderness was so precious that only in front of his daughter did he dare to show such a soft side.

"If you can have this level of clarity and discretion, Father is much more at ease." His tone softened, even carrying a touch of domestic warmth, like the rare sunlight in winter; though brief, it made one's heart ache. "By the way, your mother knew you were coming to this station and was thinking of you, so she specifically asked me to bring you a few boxes of her homemade osmanthus cakes."

As he spoke, he lightly flicked his sleeves. On the carved rosewood table beside them, light and shadow flickered, and several exquisite brocade boxes appeared out of thin air.

The brocade boxes had moon-white soft satin covers, embroidered with delicate and elegant osmanthus patterns in silver thread. It was the style her mother favored and used most often—a pattern she had seen since she could remember. Each stamen of the osmanthus flower was pierced with an extremely fine silver thread; her mother had specifically instructed the embroiderer to do this, saying that only then would it 'have a soul.'

Jian Tanghuang's eyes lit up instantly. Like two calm deep pools suddenly struck by brilliant stars, light burst forth. The radiance was so bright that even the bright candles in the hall were eclipsed.

She almost bounced off the daybed, rushed to the table in a few steps, and with slightly trembling, impatient fingertips, lifted the lid of the top brocade box—

A clear, sweet, and rich fragrance, familiar to her very bones, instantly permeated the air and filled her nose. This scent was not ordinary osmanthus; it was mixed with the taste of her mother's unique honey-marinated osmanthus sauce. It was sweet but not cloying, with a faint hint of plum acidity—a taste she had dreamed of since she was a child.

The golden, oily pastries were neatly arranged, sprinkled with sugar frost as fine as snow foam. On the edge of each piece was a small, exquisite, and lifelike osmanthus seal.

The edges of the seal were slightly raised, pressed by her mother's own hand using a silver mold. The force was neither too heavy nor too light, just enough to make the pattern clear without crushing the pastry—this craftsmanship was something only her mother possessed in the entire world.

"Mother still loves me the most!" She almost cheered aloud, immediately picked up a piece, and carefully stuffed it into her mouth.

The soft, glutinous, and fragrant pastry melted warmly on the tip of her tongue. The sweet, non-cloying taste with the lingering osmanthus aroma slid down her throat, sweetening her heart.

She narrowed her eyes in satisfaction, her eyebrows curving into two lovely crescents. The slight reluctance and tension she felt when facing her father had long been washed away by this familiar taste, and even the heavy secrets she had just heard seemed temporarily suppressed by this sweetness.

In this moment, she had transformed back into the little girl who acted like a spoiled child beside her mother.

Watching her image—unrefined yet genuinely happy, like a greedy cat—Jian Xiaotian's originally serious and heavy tone unconsciously softened, carrying a smile—a smile that rippled from the corners of his eyes, spread across his brows, and eventually softened his entire face: "Your mother has been talking about you several times, saying that your cultivation outside is arduous and you surely haven't been able to eat any palatable snacks."

"These pastries, from the selection of ingredients to the steaming, were all supervised by her personally. The night before last, she was busy until the second half of the night to pack them one by one, and she urged me repeatedly to make sure I brought them to you."

"I knew Mother misses me the most!" Jian Tanghuang picked up another piece, biting it in small mouthfuls while saying indistinctly with her eyes dancing, "Once this Tournament of a Hundred Dynasties is over, I will immediately return to the palace to see her! I also want to eat her rock sugar lotus seed soup and the freshly baked rose pastries!"

When she said this, there was a bit of pastry crumb on the corner of her mouth, and her apricot eyes were sparkling. Where was the composure of the person who had just discussed the great trends of the world with her father? She was every bit a greedy little girl.

Jian Xiaotian looked at her, and in the end, he let out a long, doting sigh. That sigh was full of indulgence, as if to say, 'There is nothing I can do with you,' but it also hid a deep love that only a father could understand: "Fine, since you have made up your mind, Father will not stop you anymore."

"Just remember at all times, no matter when, no matter what you may face in the future, or how much trouble you cause... the Shenwu Dynasty will always be your strongest backing, and Father and Mother will always stand behind you."

As he spoke, he stood up from the dragon chair and walked slowly to Jian Tanghuang's side. His steps were neither hurried nor slow, but each step was extremely steady—steps that had walked across the Dan steps of the Golden Throne Hall, across the drill grounds of thousands of troops, and through countless late nights of reviewing memorials. At this moment, however, he was only walking towards his daughter.

From a hidden place close to his chest, he took out an object. It was a jade pendant, completely translucent and free of any Impurities.

The jade pendant was not large, but it felt exceptionally warm to the touch, as if it contained a pool of warm spring water inside, or as if it were holding a small piece of living, warm sunlight—that warmth did not come from the jade itself, but from being worn close to the body for so long, stained with human body temperature, becoming something with life.

On the front of the jade pendant, a fire Phoenix ready to spread its wings was carved with peerless craftsmanship. The Phoenix's feathers were distinct, the lines were as delicate as life, and every arc was smooth and natural. Especially those Phoenix eyes, which faintly had spiritual light circulating, creating a mysterious resonance and harmony with the lively and pure spiritual power around Jian Tanghuang—it was as if the Phoenix was not carved on it, but was sealed in the jade, sleeping, waiting for her aura to awaken it.

"This is the 'Phoenix Pattern Heart-Protecting Jade', one of the secret treasures passed down through generations of our Shenwu Imperial family." Jian Xiaotian placed the jade pendant into Jian Tanghuang's palm, his tone so solemn it was almost reverent. "Wear it close to your body. In critical moments, it can autonomously trigger a protective spiritual light, enough to withstand a full-force blow from a Mahayana Stage Cultivator. Keep it on you; it may provide an extra layer of security in times of crisis."

Jian Tanghuang received the jade pendant with both hands. The gentle warmth instantly spread from her palm, as if a delicate and majestic warm current flowed quietly along the Meridians of her fingertips to her limbs and bones, bringing a strange sense of peace and strength—it did not feel like putting on a protective item, but rather like someone gently covering her heart with warm palms.

Her fingertips gently caressed the beautiful and sharp tail feather patterns of the Phoenix on the jade pendant, clutching it tightly in her palm. This warm and solid touch seemed to give her endless strength and confidence.

She raised her head and looked at her father, nodding heavily. The stubborn and bright light in her eyes was more brilliant than any palace lantern in the hall. In that light, there was no fear, no hesitation, only a firmness that had grown stronger after being nurtured by fatherly love: "Father, rest assured, I have accepted the jade pendant. I have my own plans and know the weight of things; I will never let myself... suffer a loss for no reason!"

Jian Xiaotian looked at the unmasked, forward-charging, firm light in his daughter's eyes, feeling both helpless and proud, which eventually turned into a deep and indulgent smile at the corners of his mouth. There was too much in that smile—the relief of seeing his daughter grow, the understanding of her temperament, the hidden worries about the unknown path ahead, and all the trust a father could give.

He raised his hand, seemingly wanting to ruffle her hair as he did when she was young, but halfway through, he put it down and just waved it gently.

That hand paused for a moment in mid-air—in that moment, he probably recalled how she sat on his shoulders to watch the lanterns when she was a child, how she screamed with excitement when she held a sword for the first time, and the look she gave him when she turned back at the palace gate on the day she left for the Xuantian Sect.

That hand ultimately did not fall, because his daughter had already grown up, grown up enough to face the wind and waves on her own.

"You, from childhood to now, have always had this fearless, headstrong nature of hitting the wall until the end once you've made up your mind." His tone carried a hint of urgency, yet also hid an imperceptible reluctance—that reluctance was so light it was almost inaudible, but if one listened carefully, one would find his ending tone dragged slightly, as if he were reluctant to finish speaking. "Alright, it is getting late, go back. Qingyi is waiting outside the hall. This time, she will act as your accompanying Guardian and travel with you. With her taking care of you by your side, Father... can always be a little more at ease."

Jian Tanghuang replied crisply: "Got it!" But her gaze remained stuck on the boxes of osmanthus cakes on the table. She grabbed another piece, stuffed it into her mouth, the soft, glutinous pastry mixed with the sweet osmanthus fragrance quickly soothing her taste buds. She narrowed her eyes in satisfaction, patted the fine white sugar crumbs on her hands, and the crumbs flashed in the candlelight like tiny starlight.

"Then I'm really leaving! Father, don't always review memorials so late, get some rest early!" Having said that, she gathered the precious boxes of pastries on the table into her arms, held them firmly, turned around, and ran out of the hall—

The goose-yellow skirt swept across the polished golden brick floor, bringing a light and swift sound of wind. In that sound of wind, there was the sweet scent of osmanthus and the unique, lively aura of a young girl. The ribbon tied to the ends of her hair drew a lively and joyful arc behind her as she ran, like a fluttering butterfly, chasing her footsteps.

This silhouette was exactly like a young Phoenix that had finally broken free from an exquisite birdcage, eager to fly into the vast world—its wings were not yet strong enough, the wind was not yet steady enough, but the posture of flying out already carried the pride and courage inherent to a Phoenix.

Watching his daughter's silhouette, full of vitality and energy, disappear completely into the intersection of the deep twilight outside the palace gate and the warm light of the palace lanterns, the indulgent and warm smile on Jian Xiaotian's face faded bit by bit, slowly, until it finally disappeared without a trace.

That smile vanished too quickly, as if it had been wiped off his face by something, revealing the real, weary face beneath.

Deep, ink-like worry covered his brows and eyes again, even deeper and heavier than before, like a layer of frost that had not melted for years, freezing all the tenderness belonging to a father.

That worry was not born at this moment; it had always been there, just temporarily hidden by his daughter's smiling face. Now that she was gone, the worry surged up like a tide, submerging everything.

He walked slowly to the carved wooden window facing the courtyard, which was engraved with complex auspicious cloud patterns, and reached out to slowly push open the tightly closed window. "Woo—"

The evening wind poured in without obstruction, carrying the damp chill of the night dew on the vegetation in the courtyard, blowing the wide sleeves and hem of his bright yellow dragon robe, making them rustle loudly.

The wind was too cold, as if it had blown directly from late autumn, carrying a certain desolate taste.

It also stirred the countless candles in the hall, and the light and shadow flickered violently in his deep, ancient-well-like eyes, brightening and dimming, reflecting not a shred of warmth.

He stood by the window, looking at the deep night outside, for a long, long time.

In this silhouette, where was there any of the high-spiritedness of an emperor directing the country? It was clearly a father who had swallowed all his worries, standing alone in the empty hall, watching the direction his daughter had gone, remaining motionless for a long time.