Zhao Cheng had never imagined that the Imperial Lord, supreme and absolute in authority, would be stabbed in the back by his own confidant on his own turf.
After all, even in the Empire, a weapon with such destructive power would undoubtedly be an absolute taboo. If one's status was too low, forget getting near it—they probably would not even hear its name.
In short, the situation before them was somewhat surreal. But considering the speed at which the Empire had been established, the presence of such a turncoat seemed only natural.
In the Empire's central administration, a valiant-looking man watched the fireworks in the projection. The flash that had appeared within the black hole made him frown slightly, but only slightly. Unless one achieved true dimensionalization, nothing in the material world could escape a black hole's pull.
And with the Empire's technology, there was still a long road ahead before dimensionalization could be achieved.
As for ascending dimensions through faith—if faith were truly that useful, the world would already be filled with dimensional lifeforms.
"The Imperial Lord has been attacked by rebels and has met with disaster. A nation cannot go a day without a ruler. We beseech you, sir, to take charge of the great authority and oversee the affairs of state!"
Among those in the central administration, some immediately grasped the implications upon seeing this. Without the slightest hesitation, they directly bowed to the man.
The man who presided over everything was named Shi Wannian. He had once been the chief of the central administration. The central administration was a place that helped the emperor handle affairs—great in power, yet low in rank.
Under normal circumstances, when an emperor died, his descendants would naturally inherit the throne. But the Empire was unusual. The emperor had no heirs.