The Autumn Hunt Ceremony officially ended after the celebration banquet on the third day.
Emperor Murong Yuntian had barely managed to remain seated for an hour at the banquet. His face was frighteningly pale, and even the hand holding his cup trembled slightly. The civil and military officials present all saw it, each quietly making their own calculations. Everyone knew that this old emperor, who had once commanded the winds and clouds, did not have much time left.
Murong Zhan sat beside the emperor, supporting his father throughout, his face wearing an expression of respect and concern. No matter what he truly thought inside, at least on the surface, he had fulfilled the filial duty expected of a crown prince. And after the purge at the hunting grounds, those officials who had once wavered had completely thrown their lot in with Murong Zhan.
Murong Feng had fled. His confidants were either dead, captured, or surrendered, and no one in court remained who could threaten Murong Zhan's position.
Shen Xiu stood at the back of the crowd, watching it all without much stir in his heart. Power struggles had never been something he cared about. There was only one thing on his mind—how to raise his strength to a level sufficient to contend with the Dark Church before the Night of the Blood Moon arrived.
After returning to Tianyuan City, Shen Xiu did not go back to the inn. Instead, he moved directly into an independent courtyard Murong Zhan had arranged for him.
The courtyard was located east of the imperial palace. It was not large, but it had everything one could need: a main hall, side rooms, a study, a training room, and a fairly spacious garden. Several century-old pines grew in the garden, their shade blotting out the sky