The Emperor used one pair of hands to brace his wound, his heart exposed, while the other pair desperately tried to cover and protect his weak point. The contradictions of gods were laid bare before Lin Fan. They possessed wills of their own, yet were slaves to their own essence.
Lin Fan's eyes glistened faintly as he gripped the demon sword with both hands and drove it viciously into the Emperor's heart.
In the next instant, the flaw was perfected. The end of the Imperium and the destruction of all things became intertwined. Drach'nyen's primordial power was killing everything the Emperor bore within him. When the Emperor died, the echo of his death would crash into the heart of every human, completely severing every future for the human race.
But that was merely Drach'nyen's wishful thinking. Under Lin Fan's watch, he could never kill the Emperor.
The boundless darkness dispersed, and the Emperor upon the throne began to turn into the dry bones Lin Fan remembered. Just as those bones were about to become brittle, Lin Fan opened his hand into a palm and struck directly at the demon sword, splitting its hilt from its blade.
Drach'nyen let out a roar. The frustration of failing to kill the Emperor drove him mad. He no longer cared about Lin Fan's bizarre strength and immediately turned, smashing viciously toward Lin Fan.
With a casual grasp, Lin Fan caught the hilt and held it utterly still. The crimson blade slowly faded away within the Emperor's dry bones, leaving only strands of red light coiling around them.
The throne room became exceptionally quiet. The hum of the Golden Throne was gone. Lin Fan neither knew nor cared where the endless suffering within it had gone.
After a long while, the Emperor let out a