After the coronation ceremony, preparations for war against the Northern Frontier began in earnest.
As he listened to the accusations leveled by the kings of several nations, led by Como XIII, Chen Cheng Two glanced at Smog standing beside him.
Smog's status had risen with the tide. Once the captain of the Kingdom of Como's Shadow Guard, he had become the Empire's emperor's personal guard—and, in time, the master of the Demigod Temple.
The other nations were no fools, of course. Chen Cheng Two, their puppet, was currently in the Kingdom of Como's hands. They would never hand over their own trump cards.
"Pestilence, War, Famine, Death... the Apocalypse?"
The corner of Chen Cheng Two's mouth lifted slightly as he murmured to himself.
Standing nearby, Smog heard every word. But so what?
The Four Horsemen had not been bestowed by anyone. They had sprung naturally from the evil in human nature; Chen Cheng Two was merely a marker, a spark.
Smog did not answer. Chen Cheng Two did not mind. Once Como XIII finished rambling, he followed the prescribed steps, accepted their petitions, and made the northern campaign the political foundation of his reign.
After all, if the man in the north was a Pseudo-Emperor, Chen Cheng Two had to march against him. Otherwise, his own claim to the throne would lack legitimacy.
By the time the tedious proceedings ended, the sun was setting. Just as he was about to return to the palace, Chen Cheng Two spoke up.
"We have met all these capable ministers and generals, but We have yet to summon the Empire's outstanding young talents.
"Send for Sam and the younger victors of the martial tournament. We shall meet them, offer them encouragement, and bestow some cultivation resources upon them."
Such a naked attempt by Chen