The imperial palace was vast, with one majestic and towering hall after another, interconnected by dozens of divine arrays. Once activated, they could shake the heavens and move the earth. Shi Hao wore a faint smile at the corner of his lips, quietly waiting, but no one dared to intrude—the cultivators of the three sects were all cautious.
“Your Majesty, someone has made contact with the Eighth Prince, the Eleventh Princess, and others,” a Golden Guard reported as he entered the Central Heavenly Palace, his voice echoing through the grand and empty hall. Shi Hao remained calm and silent.
“Dismissed,” Peng Jiu said.
This was a secret report, delivered by hidden operatives—a force only deployed in the gravest of circumstances. Shi Hao carefully read the confidential letter before passing it to Peng Jiu and the War King. His expression was unreadable, casting a heavy atmosphere over the hall.
“The old emperor lived a life of integrity and strength, but some of his children are truly disappointing. To seize the throne, they would dare anything,” the War King muttered, his sword-like brows furrowed.
“Only a few are like this. The others are still decent,” Shi Hao remarked.
“What does the Human Emperor intend to do?” the elderly guard Peng Jiu asked.
“If they do not cross the line, I will not act against them. But if they go too far, the law is merciless,” Shi Hao replied calmly.
The imperial palace housed many spiritual herb fields, treasured scriptures, and vaults filled with rare treasures—all of which had been plundered by these princes and princesses. Shi Hao had not pursued the matter, out of respect for the old emperor’s legacy. But if they pushed too far, he would no longer show leniency.
In a garden near the city walls, a group of cultivators from Mount Bujie were deep in discussion. Qin Ling, his face flushed with anger, loudly vented his frustrations.
“He went too far! I spoke to him kindly, yet he treated me with cold indifference. Even that old guard dared to reprimand me! That little Shi looked down on me from his high throne—what does he take me for?”
As an envoy to the palace, Qin Ling had endured immense pressure, oppressed by Shi Hao’s aura, leaving him mentally and physically tormented. The memory still sent shivers down his spine. Naturally, he was furious when recounting the ordeal to his clan’s elders.
“Calm yourself,” an elder seated on a meditation cushion spoke, his eyes flashing with lightning as they opened.
The garden was serene, with a small bridge over a flowing stream and elegant pavilions—a scene of refined beauty.
Another middle-aged man spoke, “He carries half the blood of our Mount Bujie. This is a perfect opportunity to bring him back to his roots. Without shedding a drop of blood, we could use him to control the Stone Kingdom, then dominate the Desolate Wasteland and find what we seek.”
“It’s useless,” Qin Ling shook his head, now composed. “From what we know, he may act carefree at times, like in the Void God Realm. But when it comes to principles, he is confident and unyielding. We cannot manipulate him, let alone use him to control a kingdom.”
The middle-aged man frowned. “Such a prodigy would be wasted if he doesn’t join Mount Bujie. Ah, I’ve also heard there’s a couple on the mountain—his parents. What’s the story there? Why is it such a great secret?”
“Some matters are not to be questioned. Even I do not fully understand. The clan leader will arrange everything. When the second calamity comes, that couple will ascend to the Upper Realm,” the elder on the cushion said. He was a revered figure, a Venerable.
“Young minds are impressionable. With enough persuasion, he may yet be swayed,” another elder mused, sipping tea. He, too, was a Venerable. “I’ve heard that several prodigies from the Upper Realm will descend. Perhaps we could arrange for Shi Hao to meet some noble ladies. Seeing the splendor of the Upper Realm—its people and treasures—might change his mind and make him willing to ascend with us.”
“The descendants of those great figures are coming to inspect the Eight Prisons?” The elder on the cushion’s eyebrows twitched.
The other elder nodded, and the others exchanged uneasy glances. The descent of Upper Realm prodigies was no small matter.
The topic was quickly dropped—it was too sensitive for casual discussion.
“Will the Church of the Sky and the Western Sect enter the imperial city to assert dominance? What should Mount Bujie do?” the middle-aged man asked after a moment.
“Though Shi Hao shares our blood, his youthful arrogance needs tempering. Let him suffer first. Once he’s humbled, we’ll step in to save him. By then, he’ll be more compliant,” one Venerable said.
The elder on the cushion nodded. “In the palace, he has some tricks—merging with the Imperial Dragon Qi, he can rival a Venerable. But the Church of the Sky and the Western Sect will send overwhelming force. He cannot resist. We’ll go too, exuding our Venerable pressure. He’s clever—he’ll make the right choice.”
“Though he has our blood, his youthful defiance must be crushed. Only after he’s suffered will he appreciate our intervention,” the middle-aged man agreed.
In another estate, the Western Sect cultivators were far more subdued, speaking little.
“Will the two Venerables enter the palace?” someone finally asked.
“Yes,” came the terse reply.
“As it should be. Our Western Sect has witnessed countless dynasties rise and fall, mere ripples in the river of time. The Stone Kingdom is no exception,” a young man declared.
The Western Sect cultivators all wore short hair, no longer than an inch—ascetics who honed their bodies and spirits. The younger members were more vocal, expressing their indignation.
The mighty Western Sect, standing tall through the ages, had been driven from the capital by a single youth—an unbearable humiliation.
“We should summon more elders, crush this city, and drag him from his throne. Only then can we erase this shame!”
“Indeed, we must suppress him publicly, defeat him before the world!” the young men clamored, eager to reclaim their dignity.
Meanwhile, the Church of the Sky was also deliberating. An elder frowned—the middle-aged Daoist nun had been gone too long and might miss the “entry” into the palace.
A golden war chariot raced through the streets, pulled by eight fierce beasts, shaking the ground with each thunderous step. Pedestrians scattered in alarm as the chariot, radiating a murderous aura, sped toward the palace.
“That’s the Eighth Prince’s gilded chariot! Is he heading to the palace? What arrogance!”
Rumors had been swirling—the prince had been openly declaring Shi Hao’s ascension illegitimate, calling him a false emperor.
A modest purple carriage passed by, drawing praise instead. This was the Fifteenth Prince, known for his humility and open-mindedness.
“Why is the Fifteenth Prince entering the palace? What’s happening?” the people wondered.
In the Central Heavenly Palace, Shi Hao sat in silence. Instead of the three sects’ experts, it was the princes and princesses who arrived one after another.
Shi Hao remained indifferent, while Peng Jiu sighed. Through the surveillance arrays, it was clear their intentions were far from pure.
The Eighth Prince, upon entering, had been secretly probing the underground arrays—though his methods were subtle, they could not escape Shi Hao’s notice.
“The three sects are being cautious,” Peng Jiu murmured. Instead of a direct assault, they had sent their pawns—the princes and princesses—to scout first.
“These people… alas!” the War King sighed. By blood, he was a distant uncle to them.
“Let them see everything,” Shi Hao said. He had anticipated this. With the imperial seal in hand, he reversed the arrays, altering everything.
The Eighth Prince smirked as he walked, noting the damaged formations—just as he had expected.
Entering the Central Heavenly Palace, he stood arrogantly, refusing to kneel. “I do not acknowledge you as the new emperor. This is my father’s legacy, and the edict of succession is a forgery!”
Shi Hao stared coldly from the throne, unmoved.
“Nephew, why must you do this?” the War King asked.
“A false emperor usurping the Stone Kingdom’s throne—how can I accept it?” the prince retorted.
“Do you truly believe I won’t kill you?” Shi Hao’s voice was soft, yet it sent a chill down the prince’s spine, forcing him back a step.
“Would you slaughter the old emperor’s descendants so soon after taking the throne? What would the world think of such cruelty?” the prince challenged. His confidence stemmed from the backing of foreign powers.
“For the old emperor, such a son is a disgrace. Instead of defending the kingdom, you would surrender it to outsiders as a puppet. By cleansing this stain, I honor his legacy.”
The prince paled, his soul trembling under Shi Hao’s gaze.
“Leave. Reflect on your actions, or I will show no mercy!” Shi Hao’s command sent the prince fleeing, his pride shattered by the threat of death.
“Pathetic,” Shi Hao remarked as the prince departed, not daring to respond.
The Eleventh Princess, Fifteenth Prince, and Seventeenth Prince followed, paying superficial homage while secretly mapping the palace’s defenses. Satisfied with their findings, they soon left.
Once they were gone, the War King and Peng Jiu began preparations, instructing the guards to withdraw if necessary and await the coming storm.
Alone in the Central Heavenly Palace, Shi Hao murmured, “The three sects sent the princes and princesses to scout. Are they coming to suppress me? Let them come—I’ll kill as many as dare to try.”
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