Lián Xù held the seal in his palm, its weight solid, cold jade pressing insistently into his skin.
A small, incredulous laugh escaped him.
You're kidding!
This—this damned thing—
His thoughts cut off in a string of unprintable curses.
This is clearly an emperor's standard issue!
This is like handing someone the keys to their own car and calling it a reward.
Lián Xù conveyed the thought to the System, disbelief simmering beneath restrained irritation.
The urge to hurl the seal across the room flared suddenly—hot, sharp, irrational—but he gripped it tighter, swallowing the impulse.
[Correction. This is the Divine Imperial Seal.
Prototype Enchantment: 'Word of Law.'
Function: Upon grasping the seal and uttering a command, all subjects in the room will cease activity and heed the speaker for a duration of ten seconds. Cooldown: 24 hours.]
Unconvinced, he blinked.
Ten seconds. One word. Once per day.
How is this supposed to be divine help?
Pathetic—but it was all Lián Xù had.
The cool jade pressed firmly into his palm as Lián Xù lifted his gaze to the screaming, tugging, snoring catastrophe before him. There were no alternatives. No clever detours.
He raised the seal.
And spoke a single, deliberate word.
"Silence."
The effect was imperceptible. No wave of force. No magic. Just… silence.
The shouting stopped. The blue-robed minister froze mid-yank. A general's jaw hung open on a silent roar. Silk rustled, jade beads clicked. Even the snoring eunuch ended with an undignified gulp.
Two hundred pairs of eyes snapped toward the dais. Lián Xù sat, a simple jade seal in hand, a question mark in a hall desperate for exclamation points. Ten perfect, precious seconds of calm.
Then, movement.
The eunuch blinked awake, took two frantic steps forward, voice piercing the fragile quiet.
"THE EMPEROR IS UPON THE DRAGON THRONE! ALL HAIL HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY!"
The ten-second miracle shattered—but the hall was no longer the same.
Sound rushed back in all at once. Robes swept the floor, heads bowed, and voices rose in unison as the court hastily fell into proper protocol, offering their greetings and curtsies to the emperor.
At the front of the crowd stood the Regent—Lián Wei.
Unmarried, at thirty, he still looked ridiculously young. Handsome. Sharp. Impossibly charismatic. His posture seemed to bend the light around him, commanding the hall without a word.
His hands—once lifting a giggling young Lián Xù onto his shoulders, pressing pastries into small palms, whispering, "For you, my little dragon, anything."—now rested calmly at his sides.
Memories flickered. Warm. Foreign. Tinged with unease. In Lián Xù's mind, this uncle was the closest, the most indulgent family figure he had.
Fondness tangled with tension.
The late emperor's youngest brother.
Charming. Indulgent. Dangerous.
Lián Xù exhaled without meaning to, a sigh carrying the weight of tangled bloodlines, legacy, and absurdity.
The Regent's eyes caught it. Misread it.
A flicker of calm shifted to stern comprehension. The sigh was now imperial displeasure.
Before the first shout could reform, Lián Wei's voice cut across the hall with the authority of a ruler who expected obedience.
"How dare all of you!"
The returning noise died as if smothered.
"The Emperor graces the hall with his presence," he continued, gaze lashing across the crowd, "and you revert to squabbling like gutter merchants? You shame your offices and insult the Dragon Throne itself! You will be silent and attend your sovereign!"
And they were. Instantly. Completely. Where the magical seal bought ten seconds, the Regent's command imposed deep, lasting quiet.
He turned to the dais, face smoothing into respectful concern, and bowed shallowly.
"My profound apologies, Your Majesty, for the unconscionable conduct. The court is yours to command."
In the quiet, a chime whispered in Lián Xù's mind.
[Significant Misjudgment Detected.
Source: Regent Lián Wei.
+500 Misjudgement Points.]
Lián Xù placed the jade seal down on the royal desk. It lay there, inert and unassuming, yet impossibly heavy in meaning.
For now, his uncle held the real power in this court—everyone knew it, even if no one dared say it aloud.
That realization didn't frighten him.
It clarified things.
If his uncle ruled in truth, then Lián Xù only needed to rule in appearance. Better yet—misrule. His thoughts aligned with unsettling ease, tactics forming almost instinctively.
Mislead them.
Let them misinterpret.
Allow them to misjudge.
Make them believe he was a useless emperor.
"System," Lián Xù asked quietly, fingers resting on the cool edge of the desk, "what happens if I fail to complete the mission objective?"
The answer came without warmth.
[Mission failure will result in permanent erasure of host.]
Lián Xù nearly spat blood.
A cold, visceral shock locked Lián Xù's breath in his throat. Erasure. The word echoed, a finality more absolute than any blade. The blood drained from his face, his fingers curling tight against the dragon throne's armrest.
So that's the stick.
At that exact moment, as if fate itself were mocking him, the Minister of War stepped forward, voice heavy and grim.
"…Reports confirm it," Shu Rong announced. "Bordering continents are already mobilizing. They've learned of His Late Majesty's death. With no cultivator emperor to activate the kingdom's defensive formation to deter them, invasion is only a matter of time."
Lián Xù's expression—still pale from the System's declaration—did not change.
But the court saw something else entirely.
They saw fear.
A young emperor, weak and powerless, finally grasping the weight of the disaster bearing down upon him.
Murmurs rippled through the hall.
Shu Rong watched the throne, shoulders sagging as he slowly shook his head. So even His Majesty is frightened, he thought bitterly. Of course he would be. A ruler without cultivation, facing war on all sides…
Aloud, he said nothing. Inwardly, resignation took root.
We are doomed.
Around him, the other ministers reached the same conclusion. Some pitied the emperor. Others quietly despaired. A few calculated how long the continent might last before collapsing entirely.
Only one person reacted differently.
The Regent.
Lián Wei's gaze remained fixed on the throne, concern softening the sharp lines of his face. To him, this was not a ruler showing weakness—it was his beloved nephew, finally confronted with a cruel reality.
He's been protected too well, Lián Wei thought. Sheltered from blood, from war, from fear.
He had made sure of that.
Not a single scar marred Lián Xù's body. Not a single hardship had touched him while Lián Wei stood between his nephew and the world. Pampered. Indulged. Shielded completely.
And now, seeing that pale face, that momentary stiffness—
Lián Wei's chest tightened.
It's my fault, he thought. I should have prepared him better.
On the throne, Lián Xù felt multiple faint chimes sound in his mind.
Misjudged again.
And rewarded for it.
[Current Public Perception: Emperor Lián Xù — Terrified.
+1000 Misjudgement Points]