"Tap, tap, tap..."
That deep-purple figure drew closer and closer, and with his footsteps, the very air over Zhongzhou City changed.
It was like a true fierce tiger walking into a flock of sheep. It had no need to roar, no need to bare its fangs.
Its mere existence was enough to make every living creature instinctively tighten its breathing and lower its gaze.
King Zhao!
The only prince of Great Ling who had been explicitly stripped of military authority and ordered never to leave his fief!
Twenty years ago, he had been the supreme commander of the Northern Frontier's three hundred thousand Border Army troops, the only man in Great Ling's Imperial Court who had dared point at King Song's nose and curse, "What the hell do you know?"
Twenty years later, he appeared in Zhongzhou.
He appeared before the ruins of the Song Prince's Mansion.
He appeared directly between King Song and Zhang Chu, at the heart of the terrifying clash of auras that was steadily rising.
King Zhao stopped around fifty zhang away from the two of them.
The hundred-man guard behind him halted at the same time, their steps so neat they resembled puppets pulled by a single string. Every footfall landed upon the same beat.
The woman in the moon-white gown at his right also stopped.
Her gaze passed over King Zhao's shoulder and settled briefly on the dark-golden figure in the distance before shifting away, as though she had confirmed something—or as though she had confirmed nothing at all.
"Brother King Song."
King Zhao spoke. His voice was not loud, yet it clearly pierced through the surging dark-gold and dark-red radiance over the ruins and reached every ear.
"It has been many years. You are still the same."
King Song floated in midair, the