Daylight's bronze hall stood as majestic as an ancient divine palace. Atop the nine-tiered bronze steps stood a bronze throne.
Qin Mingshen, dressed in a dark purple men's suit, reclined against the throne. Her hand, white as mutton-fat jade, lightly supported her chin as she listened to her subordinate's report with focused seriousness.
To the left of the bronze throne stood a man in a plain white robe, holding an ebony folding fan.
The fan in his hand swayed gently, neither hurried nor slow, while his half-lidded eyes made him seem to be dozing.
It was Ashen Dawn's morning meeting, yet the white-robed man's carefree attitude drew no dissatisfaction from anyone.
Not only because he was the Fate Painter, one of the Three Emperors, but because he was Ashen Dawn's absolute brain.
A strategist who never took to the battlefield himself, yet could decide the fate of the world within the span of his palm.
Although the Federation had suffered greatly after Qilin Marshal's rebellion, its foundations accumulated over many years were still beyond Ashen Dawn's comparison.
Ashen Dawn was now able to trade blows with the Federation government thanks, first, to Qin Mingshen, the strongest of the era, and second, to the Fate Painter's strategic planning and control over the battlefield's direction.
Below the nine steps stood a dense mass of figures, filling half the hall without the slightest noise.
These people formed Ashen Dawn's core, gathering the foremost powerhouses of the current era.
Every one of them was an overlord in his own right, holding the power of life and death and accustomed to being admired by others. Yet now, they had reined in all their sharpness, standing silently with lowered heads.
"Leader, the western front is locked in fierce battle with the Federation's genetic corps. We have