An Ill Omen

The wedding banquet, which had been bustling with voices only moments ago, fell deathly silent. Everyone stared at Lin Qi with strange expressions.

Dressed in wedding robes, his face flushed crimson from all the wine he had drunk, Lin Qi looked blankly and innocently at the crowd. He could not make heads or tails of what was happening either. It was one thing for the heads of the Heavenly Temple's upper, middle, and lower courts to arrive, but even the Miro Divine Cult's representative for the Eastern Continent had come. There was also some envoy from the Myriad Nations Alliance, as well as an envoy from the Snowfield Federation?

What did this bunch want?

Just as he stood there in a daze, Ying Zheng's dry, utterly emotionless voice suddenly rang out. "What are you standing around for? Why haven't you welcomed the honored guests in? Oh, right—the Snowfield Federation's envoy, Xiong Li? Have him announce himself and enter, kowtowing once every three steps. Otherwise, execute him on the spot!"

Ying Zheng's voice was hoarse and withered, brimming with a killing intent that struck fear into the heart. He was an envoy of a nation, after all, yet he was being ordered to announce himself and enter on his knees. That was already an enormous humiliation. And if he refused, he would be publicly executed—an envoy from another country slaughtered openly at an imperial princess's wedding. Such behavior could no longer be described as merely arrogant and overbearing. In the words of certain old-fashioned scholars, it was practically "tyranny."

But Ying Zheng had recently slaughtered in every direction, killing so many princes, royal descendants, powerful nobles, and high ministers of the Blood Qin Empire that heads had rolled like rain. That terrifying murderous aura still cowed everyone present. Not one person