In the main hall of the Duke of Pingqiu's Residence in Wushan City, a group of Great Qian's meritorious nobles had gathered. At their head sat the master of the residence, Yan Zheng, the current patriarch of the Yan aristocratic clan, who had inherited the title of Duke of Pingqiu.
He sat in a grand armchair, one hand lightly resting on his teacup and the other pressed against the armrest, his fingers clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned pale.
"What a curse! What a curse this is!"
"I knew all along that leaving that boy alive would bring trouble someday. But he was, after all, my grandfather's own blood, and I simply couldn't afford to offend him. Now he's gone and become a demon king, and he's riding roughshod over me!"
His sumptuous robes could not conceal the misery on his face. Most of the others were members of the Yan Clan's collateral branches or representatives of Wushan City's noble aristocratic clans. Some frowned in thought, some wrestled with frustration, and others looked helpless, leaving the gathering shrouded in gloomy clouds.
Recently, a demon cultivator had barged into the duke's residence. The guards were about to drive him out when he tossed down a token and spoke in human language, declaring that Hu Ze, the King of Pingqiu, intended to conscript laborers and craftsmen to renovate his palace in the mountains, and ordering the duke's residence to oversee the construction.
Upon hearing the news, Yan Zheng had nearly spat out a mouthful of blood.
Of course he knew who Hu Ze was, but he had never imagined that the fellow would have the gall to proclaim himself king and then climb atop the Yan Clan's head.
Yet after sending people out to make inquiries, he discovered that something