Changle Palace, in the imperial city of Great Han.
Sunlight spilled in through the palace doors, yet brought not the slightest warmth. Every mote of dust stood distinct in the light. Silence filled the hall, a heavy atmosphere shrouding everything. As the wind brushed past, the doors slowly creaked shut, and those thin strands of light vanished entirely.
In the silent Great Hall, even a needle falling to the floor would have been clearly audible. Yet precisely because of this, not the faintest sound arose. Even breathing was forcibly restrained; no one dared breathe loudly.
Even though the palace's master had always been benevolent!
Only a few men lay prostrate in the hall, their faces covered in tear tracks, plainly having just wept. These were the attendants who had accompanied the Crown Prince of King of Jiaodong. Their lord had died at the Crown Prince's hands, so naturally they had entered the palace to lodge a complaint.
Liu Heng sat upright at the head of the hall, not a trace of expression on his face. Anyone familiar with him would have known that his anger had reached its utmost limit.
"Creak."
The doors were pushed open, and sunlight spilled inside once more. Everyone turned toward the entrance, wondering who had been so unlucky as to do something so ill-timed at this moment.
The Marquis of Dong'e!
Everyone in the hall immediately felt a weight lift from their hearts. Even the stagnant air seemed to begin flowing again.
As though he sensed none of this atmosphere, Luo Jing walked straight toward Liu Heng, then bowed and offered his greetings as usual. At last, a little warmth appeared on Liu Heng's previously expressionless face.
Several dozen breaths later, Jia Yi also entered from outside. He was nowhere near as composed as Luo