Zhao Lu's Dilemma

The imperial city's main street quickly fell silent—or rather, mostly silent.

Tens of thousands of gold-armored Imperial Guards sealed off the street from north and south, while tens of thousands of repeating crossbows aimed toward the center. The noble young masters who had been running wildly about were all dumbfounded. One by one, they obediently stood where they were and threw all their weapons and other items onto the ground.

Everyone was as lifeless as dead wood, not daring to make the slightest sound. Only Lin Qi, leading his band of thugs, gleefully weaved through the crowd, frantically picking up the holy artifacts scattered across the ground. Sabers, spears, swords, halberds, hammers, meteor hammers—the Eastern Continent boasted far more varieties of weapons than the Western Continent, with every strange and bizarre weapon imaginable. Lin Qi even picked up a large bundle of holy-artifact-grade embroidery needles. Who knew which extraordinary young master could use such a bizarre weapon.

Watching Lin Qi, clad in a crooked and ill-fitting royal robe, struggle through the crowd as he picked up the weapons they had thrown down, the young masters' hearts bled. Though they were the most favored direct descendants of their families, a holy artifact was still a holy artifact. Forging any one of them required an immense price, and often, even a slightly weaker noble family might have dozens of elders above the Saint realm, yet not enough holy artifacts for every elder to possess one.

Only because they were direct descendants did their clans grant them special treatment, allowing them to possess a holy artifact. But that did not mean the artifact belonged to them. Their clans had merely "lent" it to them for use; they only temporarily held the right to wield those holy artifacts.

Only once they themselves advanced to