From below, Long Xuan'en looked up at his son seated on the dragon throne and tugged at Wang Qian. "Look at him, just look. Which of us looks more like an emperor sitting up there?" This plainly presented Wang Qian with a dilemma as vast as the heavens. No matter how bold he was, he dared not answer. He could only hang his head and play deaf and mute. Loyal as he was to Long Xuan'en, he was not about to seek his own death at a moment like this.
"Whoever sits here is the emperor!" Long Yelin said softly. In truth, what difference did it make who sat on this throne? An inexplicable sorrow welled up within him. Even after enduring a thousand hardships and finally sitting in this chair as he had wished, he remained under someone else's control, a puppet emperor. How different was that from before?
Long Xuan'en smiled. "Long live Your Majesty! Our emperor is wise indeed!"
Long Yelin waved a hand, signaling Wang Qian to withdraw. Only father and son remained in the vast Spirit Firmament Palace.
Long Yelin patted the dragon throne. "Come up and sit, too!"
Long Xuan'en shook his head firmly. "One dragon throne cannot seat two people."
Long Yelin said, "This is no longer a dragon throne."
Long Xuan'en felt as though someone had struck his heart with a heavy hammer. The pain pierced him to the core. The chair that had once represented his glory and supreme authority was now merely a prop for deceiving himself and others. He nodded and finally walked over, sitting beside Long Yelin. In his memories, something like this seemed to have happened before. Father and son had not been this close in a very long time.
Long Yelin said, "I still remember you