Chapter 85: How Is His Majesty?

Within the capital, black-clad figures inexplicably emerged in the homes of many high-ranking officials. Immediately after, large contingents of the Imperial Guards surged forth. Ordinary servants, who seemed unremarkable before, suddenly revealed themselves as martial arts masters, each holding off a dozen royal guards with ease. Even the usually frail maidservants could now leap across rooftops, moving with such lightness that not a trace was left behind.

Blood was spilled in the streets of the capital, one after another...

If one person chose to ascend to the peak while another did not, the result would be mutually beneficial: one would gain in stature, the other in brilliance.

At the very moment she drew near, Song Chuyi frowned and evaded her touch, his sleeve brushing past her without so much as grazing her.

Take, for instance, the Annan region—it was compelled to import electricity from the future solely because of its own severe power shortage.

This batch of goods was first shipped by water from Yangzhou's canal wharf to Hangzhou, then transported overland all the way south to southern Fujian.

Granny Su understood that Xiao Nuanqing had something to discuss with the Sixth Princess. She glanced at the princess with some concern, but dutifully withdrew from the room.

Because she had shown some kindness to Song Chuyi and her son in the past, Song Chuyi—though ruthless and vengeful—had spared her life. In truth, even terminal illnesses were within her power to affect, but the system had warned her that she must not interfere with life and death. Bringing the dead back to life or curing the incurable would come at the cost of her closest kin’s lifespan.

If you could not defeat him, then what he once discarded and trampled underfoot would become his shield.

As for tears, they were of no use except, perhaps, as an embellishment in the bedchamber; at all other times, they were utterly useless.

“Ninth Brother, do you think interstellar migration is truly reliable? I cannot help but worry,” said Mibaor, leaning anxiously against the Ninth Prince in the vast chamber.

“Your Majesty,” Ma Jun deliberated for a moment and replied, “since its founding, our Free Empire has always advanced bravely and resolutely. Now, to suddenly show weakness and retreat is to damage our own morale, which is detrimental to the Empire’s progress.”

After making all the necessary arrangements, Ye Tianyi gazed solemnly at the dark mass of surging spirits, took a deep breath, and prepared himself to issue commands at a moment’s notice.

She unconsciously gripped Liu Huo’s sleeve. Liu Huo lowered his head and glanced at her; the aloofness in his gaze made the mermaid princess realize her offense. She released his sleeve and bowed her head.

Time seemed to slow and freeze at that moment, as everyone waited for Liu Shengchuan to make his decision.

After receiving the examination task, Ye Tianyi was not transported away as he had been before. It seemed Liao Wangyue’s information was correct—henceforth, all candidates would have to travel to the designated location to take the test.

At this moment, the imperial court, which ought to have been the domain of the sovereign and his ministers, was instead the meeting ground for more than a dozen of the realm’s top swordsmen. They gathered to deliberate, their ranks including not only masters from the Nine Great Sword Sects, but also several venerable elders who had been in seclusion for centuries.

Four corpses, their clavicles pierced, were suspended along the cavern wall. Their flesh had withered, yet blood still flowed ceaselessly along chains into the sarcophagus below.

Jia Yue, seeing the new arrival, finally realized that night had long since fallen. She and Liu Huo had been conversing for hours without notice.

Upon the ramparts, Xiao Yan sat cross-legged, his face aglow with delight as he accepted the object, then patted the shoulder of the Thunderbolt Puppet Xiao Yan.

She intended to return to bed, but as she turned, she saw the ruined face of a certain someone drifting toward her.

“Miyahiko, is it?” Byakuya Kuchiki gazed at the doorway where Miyahiko had long since departed, his fist clenched beneath the table. From the very beginning, the moment he witnessed Miyahiko’s talent, he had regarded him as a rival to surpass.

Perhaps ever since they began their cultivation, the power of faith had already eroded their true selves.

Xia Tian said little, following him to the grain store. Upon inspection, the quality of the grain was good—certainly not grown in the barren soil of Blackwind City. It must have been transported from elsewhere.