Emperor Hongwu

Inside the Purple Zenith Hall, the atmosphere was so solemn it was nearly frozen solid.

Towering golden pillars coiled with dragons held up the vaulted ceiling. Sunlight slanted in through enormous carved windows, casting mottled patches of light and shadow across the floor, yet unable to dispel the crushing weight in the air.

The air was steeped in sandalwood incense and an indescribable chill belonging to the pinnacle of power... as well as some unnameable sense of discord...

The earlier scene of "brotherly affection and filial harmony" was gone without a trace. Once inside this grand hall, there were only ruler and subjects—no father and sons, no brothers...

The Crown Prince walked at the front, his steps steady, the cuffs of his dragon-embroidered robe swaying faintly with each stride, every inch the dignity of an heir apparent.

Fourth Prince Ji Xuanyin followed close behind, still wearing that perfectly measured, modest smile. Yet the corner of his eye seemed to sweep casually over several old ministers and palace attendants standing in attendance.

Fifth Prince Ji Xuanyuan appeared somewhat unfamiliar with the place and restrained. He tried hard to keep his back straight; clearly, he had rarely entered this hall.

As the recommended martial artists, Xiao Fan and Yao Yuxiang could only lower their heads and follow at the very end, placing each step as lightly as possible so as not to make a sound.

Yet the instant Xiao Fan stepped into the hall, that unnameable sense of discord abruptly struck him!

It was like suddenly feeling that the position of his hands was somehow unnatural... that his center of balance while walking was strangely off... that even his eyes seemed to have developed a squint...

Yet his body was perfectly normal. His hands, feet, and eyes were all where they ought to be, no different from usual.

This bizarre yet indescribable sensation left Xiao Fan uncomfortable all over, as if every inch of flesh and blood in his body had become both normal and abnormal at once.

He quickly began observing the others in the hall, only to find that no one displayed any sign of abnormality...

Could it be that he alone sensed this unnameable oddity? Doubt rose in Xiao Fan's heart, but he did not dare voice it and could only endure.

Farther inside, at the depths of the hall, a golden dragon throne stood high atop a nine-tiered vermilion dais.

Emperor Hongwu sat upright upon it, clad in ordinary black robes.

He looked to be around forty. His features were sharply defined, but an inescapable weariness lingered between his brows, while the frost at his temples lent him an added air of weathered age.

Yet most chilling of all were his seemingly calm eyes... deep as a bottomless frozen abyss, still without a ripple, yet containing an inhuman pressure that seemed capable of grinding mountains to dust!

Merely swept by that gaze, the air in the hall suddenly became more than ten times heavier. It was as though they had been plunged into the deep sea, where even breathing became difficult.

The palace attendants standing on either side and the old ministers in the corners all held their breath and lowered their heads, sweat faintly appearing at their temples.

This was the supreme majesty of the world's sole First Rank martial artist—the Martial God among men!

At the same time, a special seat had been placed beside the dragon throne. Seated there was an elderly man with a goatee, dressed in dark crimson brocade, his expression somewhat gloomy.

This man was Yan Jing, the director of Great Liang's Shadow Pivot Court, said to stand below one man and above ten thousand!

Yan Jing was both renowned far and wide, known to all, and exceedingly mysterious. Very few knew anything of his true background.

To this day, no one knew his identity or past, nor did anyone know his true cultivation. Every scrap of information about him came from folk rumors, impossible to distinguish truth from falsehood.

Among the common folk, some said he was merely the Emperor's puppet, a man with no accomplishments and not some high-ranking martial artist or sorcerer...

Others said that he was Great Liang's true decision-maker, and that the Emperor was his puppet instead... that the true First Rank Martial God was actually him...

Some even claimed Yan Jing did not exist at all—that he was a symbol, or rather, another identity of the Emperor himself!

There were all kinds of outrageous claims, and none could be verified.

Yet one thing was nearly everyone's consensus: Yan Jing had almost never displayed his skills before others...

Legend had it that anyone who had seen him make a move had either died... gone mad... or vanished without a trace, neither living nor dead...

In a sense, he was even more terrifying than Emperor Hongwu, the openly invincible First Rank Martial God.

Beyond that, few people ever saw any trace of him outside the imperial palace and the Shadow Pivot Court.

Even officials within the Shadow Pivot Court rarely saw him in person. Nearly all affairs, great and small, were overseen by the Four Symbols Envoys beneath him.

Xiao Fan discreetly studied Yan Jing from the corner of his eye. Sure enough, he could not sense the slightest trace of transcendent spiritual resonance. Either Yan Jing's methods were profound enough to conceal it perfectly, or he truly was an ordinary man with no transcendent cultivation at all.

At that moment, everyone had entered the hall and knelt in unison.

"Your son pays respects to Father Emperor!"

"Your subjects pay respects to Your Majesty!"

The Crown Prince, the Fourth Prince, the Fifth Prince, and their attendants all bowed together. Their voices echoed through the vast hall, carrying an imperceptible tension.

"Rise."

Emperor Hongwu's voice was not loud, yet it reached every ear with perfect clarity. It carried the texture of metal and stone, allowing no doubt or defiance.

The voice seemed to contain tangible force, making even the motion of rising feel exceptionally heavy.

Everyone rose.

The Crown Prince spoke first, his voice more gentle and cautious than usual. "Father Emperor, Fourth Brother, Fifth Brother, and I have brought the martial artists whom we believe can represent the splendor of Great Liang's younger generation at this Nine Provinces Martial Tournament. We await Father Emperor's instruction."

He stepped slightly aside, making room.

At this moment, Fourth Prince Ji Xuanyin stepped forward at just the right time, his smile warm yet carrying a faint tension that was difficult to detect.

"Father Emperor, this woman is Yao Yuxiang, the personal disciple of Sect Master Fu Song of the Heavenreach Sect on Great Azure Mountain. Her cultivation is refined, and her temperament steady. She is truly a rare talent. Your son believes that if she represents Great Liang in battle, she will surely raise our nation's prestige."

Emperor Hongwu's gaze naturally fell upon Yao Yuxiang. "Mm. Since she is Old Fu's personal disciple, she must be a talent capable of shaping the age. A good choice."

Before the Martial God's gaze, Yao Yuxiang remained as steady as a boulder. Her composure was extraordinary.

Yet beneath her seemingly calm posture, the lines of her muscles were visibly tensed to the limit, as though she were resisting a crushing weight of a thousand jun.

"Father Emperor's heavenly might is boundless; all within the Nine Provinces and Four Seas submit to you. Your son merely basked in Father Emperor's glory, which is how I was able to find such a promising new talent!" The Fourth Prince smoothly reeled off a well-practiced speech.

Its central message was simple: no matter how the Emperor praised him, the credit always belonged to the Emperor, while he himself had merely benefited from the Emperor's radiance... Answering this way was foolproof!

Then, Emperor Hongwu's gaze shifted to Ji Xuanyuan...

The eldest prince was cowed by that invisible pressure and did not dare raise his head to meet his father's eyes. His voice was somewhat dry as well. "Fa... Father Emperor! This is the martial artist Xiao Fan I recruited! He... he's very formidable too!"

Emperor Hongwu's gaze, containing a terrifying pressure, fell upon Xiao Fan like a tangible probe.

That gaze seemed to pierce through his flesh, bones, and skeleton, reaching straight into his soul! Xiao Fan felt every bone in his body groaning beneath an unbearable burden!

The dragon aura dormant within his sinews, bones, and bloodline was like a deep pool struck by a stone, suddenly stirring with an exceedingly faint ripple...

The next instant, the dragon aura within him began to churn beyond his control!

It's over, it's over, it's over... This time, I'm really finished... Xiao Fan's heart leaped into his throat, while cold sweat dripped ceaselessly from his forehead like rain.