Prosperity and Peace

The reception hall fell silent again.

As silent as a tomb.

Dai Tianling sat in his chair without moving. His gaze rested on the spot where Mu Ye's departing figure had vanished, on the closed door, on the dark-gold brass ring on the door handle.

His fingers stopped tapping.

His breathing grew very soft, so soft it was almost inaudible.

Then Dai Tianling's expression changed.

His fists clenched tight, his nails digging into his palms. The wounds that had already dried split open again, and blood seeped through his fingers, dripping one drop at a time onto the dark-gold tablecloth. His lips pressed into a thin line, the muscles in his jaw bulged, and veins stood out one by one at his temples.

"One after another—"

His voice was very low, so low that only En Ci, seated beside him, could hear it. It carried rage suppressed to the extreme, as if squeezed out from between his teeth, every word tinged with blood.

"What do they take Us for?"

His palm slammed down on the armrest of his chair. The armrest forged from Thousand Refined Steel twisted and warped instantly beneath his hand, and the entire chair slid half a foot backward, gouging two deep furrows into the floor.

"We are the dignified emperor of the Star Luo Empire!"

"Must We be threatened by others every single time?!"

Dai Tianling's voice rose a degree, echoing through the empty reception hall.

En Ci sat beside him without moving.

His white robe hung down, both hands resting on his knees, his expression calm. His gaze fell on the shattered calligraphy painting, on the four characters "prosperity and peace"—those four characters had already been cut apart by the glass shards. Half of the character for "Peace" had split open, revealing the yellowed rice