Si Chen looked at the young man in dragon robes before him. In his features, he could indeed sense a faint trace of familiar blood.
"You are...?"
Ye Tang gave a bitter smile, lowered his head, and continued, "Your nephew grew up in a remote, desolate town and knows nothing of royal etiquette. If I have given offense, I beg your forgiveness, Imperial Uncle."
He stole a glance up at Si Chen, his eyes filled with reverence. Concealing nothing, he began recounting his origins.
He told him how he had been hidden away in a remote town as Ye Jing's illegitimate son, and how Eldest Princess Ye Fu had later quelled the internal turmoil and, over every objection, placed him—a son of secondary birth with Ye blood—on the throne.
After hearing his account, Si Chen fell silent for a moment, a swell of emotion stirring within him.
Ye Jing.
The man who had once plotted everything from within Great Yin's Imperial Capital, only to be possessed and controlled by the mirage dragon.
Who could have imagined that he had secretly left behind a child?
Had he sensed something amiss within Great Yin's imperial family long ago and prepared a contingency, or had this been a thread of heaven's will working unseen?
And after so many twists and turns, Great Yin's realm had ultimately fallen into his son's hands.
Come to think of it, the source of all these calamities had been the Demon Race's "Flame-Passing Pact" in ancient times. Only afterward had the Ancestral Court and the mirage dragon's schemes come into being.
And beneath that lay an even deeper cause: those unkillable beings of the Other Race, that all-but-impossible-to-eradicate "filth."
The Immortal Realm, the Demon Realm, the Demon Realm; the sacrifices and betrayals of generation after generation of mighty