A deathly silence filled the hall.
Everyone's gaze swept back and forth between the two identical faces.
The fake king's gentle smile finally cracked. He abruptly rose to his feet, pointed at the real king, and shouted sternly.
"You brazen madman! How dare you impersonate me before the entire court!"
"Guards! Seize this traitor for me!"
Yet the imperial guards in the hall merely looked at one another. Not a single one dared step forward.
The real king looked at him coldly, his eyes brimming with grief, indignation, and rage.
"Demonic Daoist, you have been acting for three years. You must be tired by now."
He suddenly turned toward the civil and military officials standing in the hall like clay statues and wooden carvings, his voice abruptly rising.
"My loyal ministers! Look carefully—between me and this demonic Daoist, who is truly the rightful Son of Heaven of the Crow-Cock Kingdom?"
"These past three years, have you not noticed that your 'Your Majesty' has never shared a bed with any of the imperial consorts?!"
"These past three years, have you not noticed that your 'Your Majesty' has never drunk a single cup of hot tea?!"
Every word from the real king rang out forcefully.
His words were like a massive hammer crashing down upon the hearts of the officials.
Over the past three years, they had only thought that His Majesty had become "pure of heart and free of desire," "diligent in governance and devoted to the people." No one had dared to dwell on the strangeness behind it.
Faced with the real king's blood-soaked accusations, the hearts of the officials trembled violently.
Yes, all the oddities of the past three years now seemed like glaring flaws.
Yet the fake king on the dragon throne did not panic in the slightest.