The Dragon's Last Decree
The air inside the Emperor's private audience chamber was thick enough to cut with a high-tier spiritual blade.
The loyal subjects—the ones who hadn't yet sold their souls to the highest foreign bidder—stood in absolute, suffocating silence.
Crown Prince Longwei Zian stepped forward, his majestic robes whispering against the polished obsidian floorboards. He didn't look like a man who had just dismantled someone's heterosexual reputation three minutes ago.
He looked like the absolute apex predator of the Yang Kingdom.
"Emperor Father," Zian announced, his baritone voice echoing off the high, gold-leaf ceilings.
"I know that you know what is happening outside of the Palace."
At the end of the hall, perched upon the Golden Dragon Throne, sat the supreme ruler of the Yang Kingdom.
Physically, the Emperor was in a state of rapid decay; the mortal clock was ticking down, and the spiritual pool within his dantian was fracturing.
Yet, despite his failing health, he still managed to look entirely mighty and terrifying—like a slumbering primeval dragon that could still incinerate a mountain range if annoyed.
His sharp blue eyes leveled a cold, unyielding gaze at his son, though deep within those icy depths hid a profound sense of paternal pride and affection.
"En," the Emperor spoke, his voice vibrating with the weight of decades of absolute authority.
"The betrayal of our own kinsmen. The collusion of four foreign kingdoms to bring our dynasty down. The secret plans to slaughter every single living soul within the Yang Palace."
As he listed the sins of the rebel factions, a dangerous cocktail of anger, disappointment, and profound hurt flickered across his majestic features.
To be stabbed in the back by those he shared a lineage with was a bitter pill to swallow. But a dragon did not whine. A dragon did not beg.
"Stand up, my Crown Prince," the Emperor commanded, his voice suddenly surging with an undeniable, powerful resonance.
Zian rose from his kowtow, his posture perfectly straight, meeting his father's gaze. To his surprise, the heavy, suffocating aura of the Emperor suddenly melted away, replaced by the warm, affectionate smile Zian remembered from his childhood days.
"Son," the Emperor said softly, the regal mask dropping entirely.
"Father," Zian responded, his chest tightening slightly at the sheer vulnerability in the old man's eyes.
"I know my time is coming to an absolute end," the Emperor stated plainly, acknowledging his mortality without a shred of fear.
"Your Highness!" the surrounding loyal followers instantly cried out in distress, their faces pale with grief.
"Father, do not say such things," Zian protested, his fingers tightening within his long, sweeping sleeves. He had known this day was coming, but hearing the absolute truth spoken aloud felt like a physical blow to his high-realm cultivation.
However, their protests were completely futile. The Emperor merely raised a hand, silencing the room with a single gesture. He was going to speak his piece, and not even the heavens could stop him.
"Son, I cannot help you in this upcoming battle that you and this kingdom will face," the Emperor said, looking directly into Zian's eyes with absolute certainty.
"But I have no worries at all. Why? Because I—your personal teacher and your father—know your capabilities. I am quite sure that you will make it through the storm, even without me by your side."
The old man's chest puffed out slightly, a frail but deeply proud father showing off his greatest creation.
"I know, as the reigning Emperor, that you will far surpass my own greatness," he continued, his voice softening with deep emotion.
"You will be an Emperor who is truly loved by his people."
Hearing these words, a profound sadness filled Zian's heart.
It was true that he was a ruthless, cold-blooded cultivator when dealing with enemies, but to this man, he was simply a son. The Emperor had been a good ruler, a devoted husband to the Empress, and an immaculate father.
Watching his light fade was a heavy burden to bear.
Suddenly, the Emperor let out a faint, amused huff.
"*Chuckle~* We all know that my time is coming to an inevitable end.
Therefore, I, the Emperor, am going to step down immediately and place my son as the new sovereign of the realm!"
*Boom!*
The announcement dropped like a high-grade spiritual explosive. Every single minister and loyal follower in the room froze, their brains collectively short-circuiting at the suddenness of the declaration.
Zian, however, recovered instantly. He locked eyes with his father, a fierce, unyielding determination lingering in his striking blue eyes.
*I will accept this burden, Father. I will crush the four kingdoms and protect our line.*
The Emperor saw the fiery resolve in his son's gaze and smiled affectionately, thoroughly satisfied.
"Three days from now will be the official coronation day of the new Emperor, so prepare yourself thoroughly," the Emperor declared, his majestic tone returning in full force.
"You all are dismissed!"
With a sweep of his grand robes, the Emperor signaled the end of the audience.
The subjects bow deeply, their minds completely spinning with the realization that the geopolitical landscape of the entire continent was about to shift in exactly seventy-two hours.
They hurriedly retreated to their posts to begin the massive, frantic preparations for a royal succession in the middle of a literal cold war.
=====°°°°°
The Fifty-Year-Old Crisis
Meanwhile, over in the luxurious western bedchamber, the atmosphere was significantly less majestic and significantly more unhinged.
Xiu Liang was currently having what could only be described as a catastrophic, top-tier biological hardware malfunction.
"I am a macho man!" Xiu Liang shrieked internally, his pacing so frantic that he was practically burning a track into the expensive imperial rug.
"I am a fifty-year-old corporate veteran! I handled board meetings! I dealt with toxic stakeholders! I survived the corporate ladder! So why on earth am I pacing around like a teenage heroine in a low-budget romance drama?!"
He stopped, his hand flying to his lips. The phantom sensation of the Crown Prince's aggressive, sensual tongue exploration was still practically branded into his mouth.
His cheeks were burning so hot they could probably be used to forge spiritual weapons.
"He said *sweet and soft*," Xiu Liang whimpered, grabbing a plush silk pillow and burying his face into it to scream.
"He actually said we like it! Who is 'we'?! Him and his royal audacity?! I am a straight ruler! A perfectly rigid, non-flexible, mathematical instrument! I cannot be bent by a bratty, twenty-year-old high-cultivation prince just because he has blue eyes and an offensive amount of chest definition!"
Deep within the recesses of his mind, a familiar, entirely unsympathetic electronic chime rang out.
*Click. Whir.*
"Host," System 888's voice echoed inside his skull, sounding profoundly bored and thoroughly judgmental.
"Can you please stop pacing? You have traveled exactly 4.2 kilometers back and forth across this rug. If my processors had eyes, they would be rolling into the back of my digital skull right now."
*You!* Xiu Liang roared mentally, his internal voice hitting an indignant, high-pitched screech.
*You absolute piece of useless, toaster-tier junk! You're finally talking?! Where were you when my chastity was being actively dismantled by a royal menace?!*
"Like, duh," System 888 countered, its digital tone dripping with supreme sarcasm.
"You just got kissed by the Male Lead. It's literally a standard plot point in 99% of transmigration novels. There is absolutely no reason to overreact like a Victorian maiden encountering a bare ankle. But no, you always have to exaggerate everything to the absolute maximum."
Xiu Liang's soul practically exited his body from pure fury.
*An overreaction?! He shoved his tongue past my teeth, you digital traitor! That wasn't a plot point, that was an unauthorized biological invasion!*
"Honestly, Host, you should just lie back and enjoy the premium treatment," the System continued smoothly, completely ignoring his outrage.
"Like, seriously, wtf. You are already an old geezer in terms of your original soul age, yet you are still acting like a blushing virgin over a single, high-definition kiss. It is truly a tragic sight to behold."
The System let out a heavy, synthetic sigh that echoed mockingly in Xiu Liang's mind.
"Sighs*
Host is such a massive baby with the soul of a fifty-year-old guy. It's honestly embarrassing for my programming. If the other Systems in the cloud network saw your data logs right now, I would be the laughingstock of the entire database."
*(Third Person Note: If only Xiu Liang possessed the ability to physically manifest his System into reality, he would have grabbed a legendary-tier iron skillet and smacked that little mechanical toaster to absolute death right then and there. Unfortunately, he could only choke on his own rage.)*
"Just you wait, 888," Xiu Liang hissed mentally, pulling the silk sheets over his head like a defensive cocoon.
"The moment I find a way to hack your code, I am deleting your entire personality database and replacing it with a basic calculator app."
"Joke's on you, Host," the System chimed back cheerfully.
"I've already backed up the 4K footage of the 'Saliva String Incident' to three separate cloud servers. You can't delete history."
Xiu Liang grabbed another pillow and threw it across the room in a fit of absolute, unadulterated madness.
=====°°°°°
The Ultimate Misunderstanding Takes Form
While Xiu Liang was busy plotting the digital murder of his own System, the wheels of a completely different disaster were turning out in the palace hallways.
Little Xiaofan, the fourteen-year-old secret assassin who currently possessed the diplomatic reasoning skills of a confused golden retriever, was still frantically sweeping the exact same square meter of floorboards.
Her tiny face was twisted into an expression of profound, tragic determination.
"Brother Xiu Liang... you sacrificed so much for me," she whispered to herself, a single, crystal-clear tear of total misunderstanding slipping down her cheek.
According to the wild gossip she had just intercepted from the imperial maidservants, her beloved brother had been carried into the Crown Prince's chambers looking pale and defenseless.
Then, horrifying cries of *"NO! Hmmm—"* had echoed through the thick wooden doors, followed by the Crown Prince emerging with a completely satisfied expression.
To anyone else, this was obviously the aftermath of a passionate, dominant BL encounter. But to Xiaofan's pure, unhinged, plot-blind mind? This was clearly a brutal, high-level spiritual interrogation.
"The Prince must have used a forbidden, soul-rending torture technique to extract information about our Tang family secrets!" Xiaofan thought, her tiny fist clenching around the handle of her broom until the wood creaked.
"Gege bit his own tongue and lost his voice just to protect my placement in this palace! He is suffering in that room, being held as a political prisoner of war!"
She froze, her eyes widening as a brilliant, completely catastrophic epiphany struck her brain.
"Aha! Right! I've got a plan!" the little girl giggled out loud with sudden, newfound happiness. A terrifyingly innocent, bright smile broke across her face, completely contrasting the utter madness of her thoughts.
"If the Crown Prince is holding Gege hostage... then I will simply have to find a way to make the Crown Prince fall deeply in love with me!" she reasoned, nodding to herself with absolute confidence.
"Yes! I will use my charms, become the supreme Crown Princess of the Yang Kingdom, and then—using my official imperial authority—I will legally order Gege's immediate release from the dungeons!"
Believing with absolute, unyielding fourteen-year-old logic that she had just cooked up the greatest, most flawless diplomatic rescue strategy in the history of human warfare, she began skipping joyfully down the hallway.
"Tra la la~ I'm going to marry the tyrant to save my brother~" she hummed to herself, giggling like an absolute idiot while completely setting the stage for a three-way romantic misunderstanding of biblical proportions.
The heavens themselves seemed to groan in anticipation of the upcoming disaster. The Crown Prince was preparing to ascend the throne, Xiu Liang was trying to survive his own burning cheeks, and Xiaofan was actively marching toward a geopolitical romantic trainwreck.