After sitting in silence for a long while, Zhao Heng slowly walked to the window. Bathed in the moonlight, he gazed up at the cold moon, his heart bleak and lost.
Though he was now the next in line to inherit the throne of Great Zhou, and the Power of All Beings he shared surpassed even what he had received when he had proclaimed himself emperor in the south, he had little hope of ever reaching that supreme seat in his lifetime. First, Gao Lan stood at the peak of the Heavenly Immortal realm, just one step away from the legendary realm. His future held no limits, and unless something unexpected happened, he would live for a long time. Zhao Heng could never wait him out. Second, even if misfortune struck and Gao Lan died before his time, the one to ascend the throne would not be Zhao Heng—not even Little Meng, who ranked ahead of him in the line of succession. When that time came, the Son of Heaven of Great Zhou would be the new master chosen by the Human Emperor Sword!
And Zhao Heng did not believe a miracle would happen and make the Human Emperor Sword choose him.
Everything he had once aspired to, everything he had once wanted, was now no more than a reflection of flowers in a mirror, a moon on the water. Without those things, what meaning was there in holding an empty title and sharing the Power of All Beings?
To drift through life in a daze, a walking corpse!
Should he give up the past for good and seek a new path?
But where did the road ahead lead?
Zhao Heng asked himself again and again, but never found an answer.
He did not know how much time had passed