After securing the absolute loyalty of the head of House Callenica and accidentally gaining extra Affection Level from Her Majesty the Empress Consort, Linen could finally utilize the inherited memories to address the other issues in the instance.
However, once he actually sat on that throne and combined it with memories inherited from the First Emperor, Linen arrived at a fair, objective evaluation of this newborn empire and its system:
"A steaming pile of crap."
As expected of House Norton's ancestor who maxed out combat power—the invincible dragonblooded legendary knight. So the INT stat really was dumped to zero, huh?
Holding the Empire together relied entirely on grit and sheer will. Unifying people's hearts depended purely on personal charisma.
As for internal noble relations—those were truly heavyweight.
Handing out excessive authority alone meant policies couldn't unify. Even among just the Eight Great Houses: Morris hated Callenica, Mistry and Vorn couldn't stand each other, and Sauss looked down on the other seven equally.
No exaggeration: if the First Emperor had suddenly dropped dead, it wouldn't be surprising if the Zijinghua Empire had collapsed within two generations.
But history wasn't fair. Thanks to dragon blood extending lifespan, this First Emperor—with an intelligence stat definitely not exceeding nine—stubbornly held the throne for two hundred years, lasting until the Second Emperor, famed for wisdom and blessed by the wisest blue dragon, could inherit the realm. Only then did he die.
Under that ruler's gentle yet wise policies, the Norton royal family and the Eight Great Houses—tempered by multiple successions and now more peace-inclined—finally achieved unity. Zijinghua miraculously revived and gradually stabilized.
Mosiati could mimic the First Emperor's methods to score high. In theory, Linen could also imitate the Second Emperor's policies to pursue a more harmonious, lasting system—something that would clearly earn more points.
But Linen immediately rejected that approach.
The Second Emperor faced an Eight Great Houses softened by two hundred years of peace—houses with smoother, milder operations.
Linen's current opponents were seven ruthless warlords—put bluntly, vicious bandit-kings who'd ruled their own mountains just a few years prior.
Treating them gently would only lead them to think he was weak and easily bullied.
Besides, this was a fucking illusion trial—basically an immersive game. And you still want to play dovish, swallowing your anger in a game?
Spoiled much?
Real life too smooth for you? Go queue a few Nasus top games in Summoner's Rift, yeah?
We Paradox players have our own way of building a pyre.
So Linen quickly drew on historical experience and summarized the best way to maintain internal unity and avoid civil strife in four words:
Fight outward.
Only people with too much free time and full stomachs have the energy for infighting. If you're that idle, then all of you can get the hell out there and wage war.
Linen swiftly drafted a series of military policies. The empire was newly founded, but its pace of expansion couldn't halt even momentarily.
If the northern barbarians eyed them hungrily and the Allied States harbored ill intentions, then fight!
He even allowed the Eight Great Houses to split their gains fifty-fifty with the Empire—on one condition: before any expedition, they required palace approval, and whether or not Linen personally led the campaign, Zijinghua's and House Norton's banners had to precede their family crests.
The heads of the Eight Great Houses not only didn't object—they were ecstatic, eager to approve with hands and feet.
The reason was simple. These heads were ambitious conquerors themselves. Most had submitted solely because they couldn't defeat the First Emperor. A major factor behind the later fragmentation was the First Emperor's shifting mindset—adopting a softer, outwardly peaceful approach.
Seeing His Majesty "returning to form," appearing even more aggressive than before, was exactly what they desired.
Regarding Linen's demands, they didn't think much of them.
Previously, everyone fought their own wars—raising their own crests was normal. But now, plainly speaking, they were all people of Zijinghua and House Norton. Establishing a clear hierarchy was only natural.
Even the most troublesome head of House Morris didn't voice objections.
At first, the energized Eight Great Houses truly had a blast.
The northern barbarians existed precisely to be stomped. The Allied States had been arrogant for several years, but after the First Emperor personally led several campaigns, they retreated into passive defense.
For the Eight Great Houses, now firmly rooted in the Zijinghua Empire, territorial expansion was absolutely good news. Not to mention Linen had personally promised a fifty-fifty split of spoils between them and the Empire.
As for whether it was truly fifty-fifty—wasn't that entirely based on how the Houses reported it? Would Linen personally inspect every last piece?
For a time, the already militant empire kicked off another wave of enlistment fever.
A strange saying even emerged: "Wealth, power, a chance to rise—want it? Go to the border. Emperor Norton put everything there."
But as time passed, the Eight Great Houses gradually sensed something was off.
Constantly seizing land and spoils felt amazing, sure—but their reputation inside the Empire wasn't rising. If anything, it was slipping.
Because the early phase of war required time and manpower, the proud Eight Great Houses wouldn't beg Linen—they raised funds within their own fiefs. At first it was manageable, but repeated demands bred massive resentment among the commoners forming their base.
And as for all that later "gain," "reward," and "glory of conquest"—
You think we peasants are idiots?
Isn't that His Majesty's achievement?!
You think we can't see you nobles requesting His Majesty's approval before each expedition and raising Zijinghua's banner first?
Even though the seven Houses privately tried to "clarify rumors," it didn't help much.
So the seven heads slowly realized: they were the ones sweating and bleeding on campaigns, but Linen and House Norton effortlessly plucked the fruits of reputation and popular support. Meanwhile, the seven Houses became increasingly hated as the tax-collectors.
Once they understood that, some of the seven Houses began losing motivation. Short-term profits looked good—but long-term, weren't they just laboring for Zijinghua and House Norton? Why suffer like this?
Some reduced expeditions. Others entered prolonged "rest and refit."
Would Linen allow these donkeys—no, heads—to remain idle and start trouble?
Of course not.
Linen's solution was simple: fight well, and you earn medals.
Empire's Outstanding Soldier Medal. Empire's Exemplary Legion Medal. Empire's Invincible Divine Might Couldn't Do It Without You Medal…
A mountain of medals were awarded to meritorious soldiers. And when most Houses were "resting," scaling back, only one House continued obeying Linen's orders, charging forward regardless of cost:
House Callenica.
After Linen helped rediscover his original heart, Lanlost became Linen's most loyal minister. Once he realized the glory of conquest would belong to the great emperor, he became even more enthusiastic.
Receiving a medal of war merit personally awarded by Linen in the capital's Holy Plaza, the Head of House Callenica got so emotional his eyes turned misty. On the spot, he recited a three-thousand-word speech praising the sacred Emperor Linen and wishing heaven bless our emperor, our emperor bless us.
Mountainous cheers shook the sky, soaring straight into the clouds.
Seated in the front row, the other seven heads had no choice but to clap along amidst the roaring applause—silently greeting the female relatives of Linen and Lanlost in their hearts.
The next day, they were forced back out to war again.
It couldn't be helped. That feeling—when your class has one insane tryhard and the homeroom teacher praises him every day—is exactly like this.
But this second wave of expeditions met far stronger resistance than before. Whether barbarians or Allied States, enemy strength abruptly jumped a tier—from easy bullying by Zijinghua to trading blows evenly.
In a real war, this was normal. If anything, Zijinghua's nonstop victories had been abnormal.
But in a game, when enemy difficulty suddenly spikes—and you're certain you haven't worsened—then someone quietly raised the difficulty.
The Holy Trial was no different.
So who was the Holy Trial instance's "admin"?
Sitting in the palace, listening to increasingly tense battle reports, Linen couldn't help knitting his brow.
Had the First Emperor spent too long in the Holy Trial space and gone stupid? I'm literally helping her torment these heads. If she won't lower the difficulty to match my plan, fine—but why actively fight me? What's her problem?
If the First Emperor in the Holy Trial could hear Linen's thoughts, this legendary emperor—who looked like a young girl—would have broken down on the spot.
Helping me?!
Do you even remember why you said you pitied me in the first place?
Before formally entering the Holy Trial, Linen had indeed claimed his soul was special.
At the time, the girl hadn't cared. She assumed he was just like that man—his soul unusual enough to retain memories.
But once Linen actually entered the Holy Trial, she realized she'd underestimated it.
If she hadn't felt House Norton's dragon-fusion aura from Linen's soul, she would've suspected his true body was a succubus!
She'd clearly inspected Linen's soul thoroughly and confirmed nobody had tampered with it.
Yet every woman in the Holy Trial world, the moment she saw him, acted like she couldn't even walk—drawn as if hooked.
And the worst part: he had absolutely no self-awareness!
Of course, this was the work of Linen's Title ability. A special soul talent directly granted by the system, even the "admin" First Emperor couldn't detect it. Linen himself simply assumed it was the First Emperor's innate perk.
For most people, it wasn't a major issue. Seeing the emperor wasn't a daily occurrence, and that abnormal attraction quickly faded.
But one woman was forced into prolonged contact with the emperor.
Empress Consort Guineer.
The primary reason Guineer had become "mentally unfaithful" toward the First Emperor was the secret of the First Emperor's gender—bearing that secret had crushed her.
But now, with Linen entering the Holy Trial as a man, her reason for emotional infidelity lost its basis. Though the Holy Trial automatically blocked the Empress Consort from reflecting on these contradictions, her Affection Level toward Linen was still affected.
Add in Linen's damned charm from his Title. Even though he coldly ignored the Empress Consort daily, her Affection Level steadily rose.
With longing about to overflow, combined with midnight loneliness—what might a woman do to vent excess desire, craving the love of a tyrannically indifferent husband?
It wasn't hard to imagine.
Even when harboring spiritual love for Lanlost, the Empress Consort had kept her fidelity, even ensuring Lanlost swore allegiance to House Norton before her death. That was one reason the First Emperor had never truly hated her.
Yet Linen had only been there for a short time, and Guineer already… already did something like that—something only a beast in heat would do…
But the most painful thing was that, as Guineer did it…
She was calling her name!
"No, Guineer—that isn't me! Why… why?!"
Watching that scene, the girl—who had stood guard alone in the Holy Trial space, enduring icy solitude for centuries without cracking—finally broke down.
Still want to "help" and "treat her well"?
Just hurry up and die! Hurry up and get out of there!
Stay away from my Guineer!
If increasing the instance's difficulty didn't require a process, she would've cranked it straight to maximum already—turning even barbarian foot soldiers into Tier-9 knights.
Just then, on the screen, a Norton spy crossed the hall, approached the throne, and knelt on one knee.
"Your Majesty. The place you mentioned—we found it."
For once, Linen showed genuine relief. The girl couldn't help feeling a flicker of curiosity.
There weren't many situations that could shake this brat so visibly.
In reality, the girl had underestimated her own "destructive power."
The enemy's rapidly growing strength indeed troubled Linen, as the fiery, flower-brocade atmosphere he'd crafted relied entirely on continual victories.
Once war turned unfavorable, the contradictions he'd piled up would inevitably explode—and even harder than before.
Still, it wasn't entirely bad news.
Because the other heads and their main forces were tied down at the front, Linen could move more freely in the capital, making bigger plays.
But when that royal spy knelt beneath the throne and finished his report, the weight hanging in Linen's chest finally settled.
"Take me there," Linen immediately ordered.
Under cover of night, a light cavalry unit left the palace, riding deep into House Morris's territory. After breaking through an Arcana-based trap, they entered a cellar.
The moment they stepped inside, a thick stench of blood assaulted them. All sorts of grotesque half-human, half-dragon creatures were displayed along both sides like decorations, making Linen frown deeply.
"The scum responsible for the experiments have already received your divine punishment. Among the innocent civilians, only one girl remains alive—but she… is extremely dangerous. Please be cautious, Your Majesty."
Listening to the report, Linen nodded gravely.
He'd never forgotten who the true boss of this instance was.
In the Twilight of the Sacred Dragon instance, powerful figures like Lanlost or the cunning head of House Morris were at most elite mobs before the final boss.
The figure who had left the First Emperor with an indelible psychological scar—one so deep she'd turned this memory into a Holy Trial—was precisely that artificially created dragonkin girl.
Finding the girl transformed into dragonkin was key to achieving a perfect clear.
After directing the other heads' attention outward, Linen never ceased secretly searching for traces of that girl.
Turning a human into dragonkin was a cruel, inhumane experiment.
He'd clung to the hope he could find her before transformation—but clearly, he'd failed.
At the deepest part of the cellar, Linen saw her curled in the corner of a cage, dressed in mere scraps covering only key parts.
She looked so pitiful—and yet, so perfect, so beautiful.
Messy blonde hair was filthy, knotted into clumps. Her clothes were similarly dirtied, stained by dark brown blood that stung the eyes.
But sharply contrasting her appearance was the girl herself.
She seemed a delicate artwork—beautiful as porcelain coated in dust.
Her fine skin appeared as smooth and rich as cream. Though her curled posture hid her face, a pair of golden slit pupils peered out from between her fingers, radiating curious interest—striking and mesmerizing.
Only the sight of her small right hand clutching a large chunk of bloody flesh gave the scene an unsettling grotesqueness.
Linen walked straight inside.
"Your Majesty, please be careful! Approaching her is very dangerous!"
The spy hurriedly warned.
The moment Linen stepped into the cage, the girl's curious golden eyes instantly filled with boundless hostility and wild aggression.
"She's like a beast without rational thought."
Yet Linen showed no panic, continuing forward while calmly releasing his aura.
Feeling his presence, the girl's eyes revealed visible confusion.
This male… smelled the same as her… strange.
But upon acknowledging him as her kind—and as a "male"—an unfamiliar sensation surged within her. Her gaze became increasingly unfocused, her clenched fists weakening.
Only one thought remained:
"Male… like?"
"..."
The spy had already fallen silent.
He'd nearly forgotten: though His Majesty hadn't personally appeared on the battlefield this wave, he was, after all, the Zijinghua Empire's greatest weapon and strongest fighter.
"Then… are we fighting?"
Linen approached the dragonkin girl, speaking softly.
Honestly, he was still somewhat unsure how exactly to subdue her.
If he simply killed her and got forced out of the Holy Trial, that'd be too merciful on those seven heads—and his score might even fall short of Mosiati's.
But before he could decide, the girl chose for him.
Her hand shot past Linen's, directly grasping his belt and yanking it loose, as if urgently searching for something.
That direct?
Linen raised an eyebrow but didn't resist. If he could peacefully subdue her, that was naturally best.
The spy felt vaguely numb, silently muttered "as expected of His Majesty," and tactfully withdrew.
Only in the Holy Trial space—after seeing the dragonkin girl's face, identical to her own, and then witnessing what followed, a "zero-distance yet violently intense battle"...
The First Emperor's mind shifted from flustered anger, to shock, to ears-and-cheeks-flushed—until gradually, she stopped thinking entirely.
Her final thought was:
Oh shit. This is aimed at me.
---
T/N: IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE MODRED??? OMG ARE THEY FUCKINGGGG OMGGGGG WAHT
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