Shangjing Linhuang Prefecture, one of the five capitals of the Liao Dynasty.
The Liao Dynasty followed a system of seasonal migration, so its capital was not fixed.
But now that the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun had been recovered by Great Song, and Xijing Prefecture and Datong Prefecture had been incorporated into Great Song, the old system of seasonal migration had become little more than a formality.
The surviving political forces of the Liao Dynasty had now gathered in Linhuang Prefecture.
But today, in the former imperial palace of the Great Liao, the once high and mighty Liao Emperor knelt prostrate on the ground. Behind him, the officials followed his example in perfect unison, not daring to make a sound.
Seated on the former Dragon Throne was a handsome white-haired man, expressionless as he toyed with a jade wine cup in his hand.
"Your Excellency, the six hundred and twenty altars throughout the Liao Dynasty have been completed. They are ready for inspection at any time."
The Liao Emperor's forehead was slick with cold sweat as he bowed and spoke with utmost respect.
"Good. I can already sense them."
Lu Sen nodded, his tone even.
"Then you've outlived your usefulness."
At those words, the Liao Emperor and his officials below him all paled.
Before they could react, an invisible force seized them. Distorted, ghostly faces seemed to emerge from each of their bodies, being wrenched free.
Each ghostly face vaguely resembled the person it came from.
A chill filled the air, and ghostly wails rang out all around them.
"The Son of Heaven's Aura and the fortunes of the Liao Dynasty can serve as catalysts, too."
Lu Sen spoke calmly. In the next moment, the souls of the Liao Emperor and his officials were torn from their bodies, spiraling