Navin's Persuasion

Upon hearing this, Otis sneered and slammed his flawless hand onto the armrest of the golden throne.

"Bang!"

"Is that so-called 'emperor' of Anzeta joking?"

"He actually provided weapons to the Thrace Kingdom! Doesn't he know that the Thrace Kingdom is their inevitable geographical enemy?!"

"And... more importantly, he actually dared to refuse my friendship! This is such a precious opportunity; as a noble descendant of the gods, I have already given him ample face, and he dared to refuse!"

Otis's tone grew increasingly angry, his imposing and oppressive voice echoing in the empty hall.

"Foolish Red Dragon!"

With his fury, flames seemed to burn fiercely in his golden eyes, and dark clouds descended from the sky, accompanied by rumbling thunder, as if a torrential downpour was about to begin.

This is the manifestation of the power of the Supreme Heaven. As proud Divine Child, their emotional changes can affect the surrounding environment and even manifest as abnormal celestial phenomena, causing harm to mortals around them.

Sensing His Majesty's anger, the ministers around him Kassand, became anxious and repeatedly tried to dissuade him.

"Your Majesty, please calm your anger!"

"That's just a dragon from a remote region; it's not worth getting so angry about."

"Yes, you are the future Emperor of Fadlan, and you will surely rule the entire Fei An Suo. There's no need to bother with him."

His Majesty Otis is arrogant.

They were even arrogant.

This is common knowledge throughout the Kassand Kingdom and even the entire Feanso Continent.

As a noble descendant of the gods and the eldest son of Aragon I, Otis was showered with attention and worship. He considered himself the natural ruler of Fadlan and despised all mortal things in the world.

From childhood to adulthood, no one has ever dared to refuse him.

But the "Red Emperor" who dared to refuse him did so, leaving a deep impression on him.

Otis's anger had nowhere to go for several days, casting a shadow over the Holy City throughout this period.

Of the three kings, the eldest son Otis was generally considered the most powerful, but he was neither as intelligent as Wilhelm nor as rational as Iloti.

Navin Bessarius was deeply worried. He knew that making foreign policy decisions based on pure emotion would inevitably lead to failure, and the Kassand Kingdom was now showing signs of doing just that.

Driven by the rumor that "whoever controls the Holy City will gain the throne," His Majesty Otis exhausted all his strength to seize the Holy City, even at the cost of waging war against Thrace and Seleucia simultaneously.

This has led to the continuous depletion of the power of the Kassand Kingdom, which was originally the most powerful among the three kingdoms, and the gap between it and the other two kingdoms is gradually narrowing.

Naven harbored an extremely presumptuous and audacious idea.

The Holy City is no longer a heritage site.

It is a wound.

A wound that allows the Kassand Kingdom to bleed continuously.

What His Majesty Otis was most concerned about was not the interests of the Kassand Kingdom —but his own face, which was absurd.

"Perhaps we should guide His Majesty onto the right path in other ways."

"His Majesty."

Naven stepped forward and bowed slightly.

"As the eldest son of the great ' Sun Emperor,' you are Fei An Suo recognized as the most honorable being in this land, without a doubt."

"But that so-called ' Embers of the Burned Emperor ' is just a simple-minded, Limbs strong Red Dragon. He doesn't care about your status, nor does he understand how precious your friendship is."

Otis's expression softened slightly, the rage in his eyes subsided, and even the gloom in the sky gradually dissipated.

Naven continued respectfully, "The Red Dragon doesn't have your foresight; his greedy and short-sighted eyes only have one thing in them— Gold Coin."

"And Wilhelm must have bribed the Red Dragon with enough Gold Coin to gain his support."

Otis said unhappily, "Didn't I bring him treasure?"

Naven quickly replied, "As you know, Wilhelm is known as the 'Deceitful One,' and he enjoys stirring up trouble behind the scenes."

"He must have shamelessly bribed that foolish Red Dragon with more Gold Coin in private to make him refuse you."

Otis nodded in agreement and commented, "Ah, a cunning villain, a short-sighted Red Dragon."

Naven, agreeing with Otis's idea, quickly chimed in, "Yes, all of them combined are not even a fraction of what you have."

"Only."

"Just what?"

Naven raised his head, his tone earnest.

"Your Majesty, I hope you will allow me to serve as an envoy to the Embers of the Burned Empire once again."

Otis's face immediately darkened. "Why? That so-called 'empire' just humiliated me. Am I supposed to rush to let them humiliate me?"

"Your Majesty, please hear me out."

"If that Red Dragon could turn against Thrace, its natural enemy, for Gold Coin, it can certainly help us for even more Gold Coin."

"Your Majesty, please let me try one more time, not only for myself, but also for the future of the Kassand Kingdom, and even more so for you to restore the Holy Fadlan and become a great emperor comparable to your father."

Upon hearing this, Otis's pupils contracted slightly.

He wavered.

Compared to becoming emperor, what are a little anger and humiliation? When he possesses the power of Aragon I, any force will be nothing but a chicken or a dog in front of him, and the so-called "Embers of the Burned Empire" can be destroyed with a flick of his wrist.

Otis's tone softened, and he leaned back on the throne.

"Navin Bessarius, I will give you one last chance."

"My minimum requirement for you is to get your hands on a batch of weapons that ordinary people can use. I hope you won't let me down."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Naven bowed deeply, and only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.

Having witnessed the coronation ceremony firsthand, he deeply understood that the Embers of the Burned Empire was by no means a marginal force; it could have a huge impact on the situation on the continent, and even concern the future of Kassand.

He needed to do his best to secure a military alliance with the Embers of the Burned Empire, or at least prevent it from tilting towards Thrace.

The meeting concluded, and the officials took their leave.

Under Otis's forceful orders to "Get out!" and "Die!", even the palace guards and maids were driven out.

The vast palace suddenly became empty, leaving only Otis Aragon alone.

Otis sat on the golden throne, covering his face with his hands, his expression a mixture of shock and anger, his perfect body trembling.

No, no

"I can feel my strength, my life, slipping away! They're actually disappearing!"

Otis kept muttering to himself.

Through the gaps between her pale fingers— Otis's face was no longer flawless; a faint crack had appeared on the side of her cheek.

Otis was not afraid of the Abyssal Devil, nor of the devils of Hell, but he was afraid of even the smallest crack.

This is his greatest fear—he fears losing his current status, and even more so, he fears becoming an ordinary person again.

"This means I will grow old, and even die."

"Damn it, I'm a descendant of gods!"

He called out like that.

Immediately afterward, Otis, as if grasping at a straw, muttered to himself, "Yes. As long as the ritual is performed, everything will be alright, and I will continue to be immortal."

He looked down at his smooth palms, as if cracks were about to appear on them.

"It's too late. We must unify Holy Fadlan as soon as possible and become the true Emperor of Fadlan so that we can regain the grace of Amanata."

"As long as I can become a true emperor."

Otis gripped the golden scepter, a symbol of supreme imperial power, and said this.