Blood Armor's Might Travels Ten Thousand Li, King of Qin High Arches and Pacifies the Earth

Within Xianyang's Zhangtai Palace, the halls rose as towering as Mount Kunlun, their majestic bearing overwhelming both past and present. Dark-gold bricks paved the floor, gleaming with a steady luster. Jade pillars coiled with dragons supported the vaulted ceiling, their carvings exquisitely wrought and lifelike.

The hall was so quiet that the faint crackle of candle flames could be heard, yet an invisible imperial pressure permeated every corner, filling hearts with awe.

The civil and military officials wore black court robes and stood in ranks along both sides of the hall according to rank. Straight as pines, solemn and grave, they all fixed their gazes upon the supreme throne above.

Upon the throne sat Ying Zheng. His black royal robes trailed over the ground, the fabric heavy and magnificent, embroidered with dark patterns interspersed with muted golden cloud motifs and black swallow designs. The fine, orderly patterns carried the exclusive majesty of the King of Qin.

He stood as straight as a lone peak, his shoulders and back as broad as towering mountains. His long eyes flashed like lightning; their sharpness was restrained, yet everywhere present, like a peerless sword on the verge of leaving its sheath—keen, weighty, and naturally intimidating. None among the officials dared meet his gaze directly.

His forehead was broad and full, his swordlike brows slanting into his temples. His eyes were as deep as cold pools, black and bright, sharp enough to seem capable of piercing straight into the thoughts hidden in one's heart. Within them lay the weighty foundation of Qin's legacy, built upon the efforts of six generations, along with the towering ambition and fearsome edge to sweep away the Six States and unite the realm.

Whenever he lifted his eyes, every official touched by that gaze unconsciously held his breath, reverence rising