The Regent King, Lu Yuan, lay broken on the cold marble floor. His meridians were shattered, his true essence a leaking ruin. He stared up at Lu Feng, his face a mask of disbelief and pure, unadulterated hatred.
"The array..." he rasped, blood flecking his lips. "The Dragon Vein Detonation Array! It's still active! You will die with me! The entire capital will be your tomb!"
Lu Feng glanced at the glowing runes pulsing with destructive energy across the throne room. He did not speak. He simply lifted a hand, palm open, towards the epicenter of the array.
A flicker of boredom crossed his eyes. "A toy."
He closed his fist. Miles beneath the palace, the foundational core of the array, a nexus of spirit stones and ancient seals, simply turned to dust. The glowing runes on the floor fizzled out, their violent light dying into harmless etchings. The suffocating pressure vanished.
Lu Yuan's eyes widened in horror. That array was the work of three generations of grandmasters, a power capable of leveling a mountain range. To Lu Feng, it was a child's plaything, dismissed with a single, contemptuous gesture.
The game was over. True despair finally clawed its way into the Regent King's soul.
Heavy, armored footsteps echoed from the palace entrance. The War Goddess, clad in her brilliant silver armor, strode in, her divine sword still humming with killing intent. Behind her, a thousand elite soldiers of the Dragon God Hall poured into the hall, their movements silent and disciplined. They secured every corner, their cold gazes sweeping over the trembling palace guards who dropped their weapons in unison.
"Lord," the War Goddess said, her voice clear and resonant. She knelt on one knee, her head bowed in absolute fealty.
Lu Feng paid her no mind. His gaze was fixed on the sniveling heap that was once his uncle. He walked forward, his steps echoing with the finality of a death sentence.
"Kill me!" Lu Yuan shrieked, finding a last ounce of defiance. "Do it! Show the world you are a tyrant who murders his own blood!"
Lu Feng stopped before him. His shadow fell over the broken man. "Death?" His voice was a whisper of ice. "That is a mercy. Traitors do not receive mercy."
He made a small gesture. Two Dragon God Hall guards, massive men built like iron pagodas, stepped forward. They lifted the Regent King by his arms, his crippled limbs dangling uselessly.
"You will be taken to the Black Iron Prison," Lu Feng stated, his tone flat, devoid of any emotion. "Beneath the ninth level. Your cultivation is gone. Your name will be erased. You will have eternity to contemplate your failure."
The Regent King's face turned ashen. The Black Iron Prison was not just a dungeon; it was a living hell, a place where not even light could escape, where one's soul was slowly ground away over centuries. It was a fate worse than a thousand deaths.
As they dragged the screaming, weeping man away, the palace doors were thrown open again. A procession of court ministers and eunuchs, led by the pale, trembling puppet emperor, stumbled into the hall.
The young emperor, barely a man, saw the defeated Regent King being hauled away like an animal, and his eyes landed on Lu Feng. He saw the Imperial Seal held loosely in Lu Feng's hand. He saw the absolute authority in his cold, indifferent gaze. He saw the kneeling War Goddess and the legion of unstoppable soldiers.
His legs gave out. He fell to his knees, his yellow dragon robe pooling around him. "Your... Your Highness..."
The ministers behind him, recognizing the tide had turned with apocalyptic force, all dropped to their knees, kowtowing until their foreheads touched the floor. None dared to even breathe too loudly.
Lu Feng looked down at the boy on the throne, a puppet whose strings had just been cut. He said nothing. His silence was more terrifying than any threat.
The puppet emperor trembled violently, then scrambled to his feet. He rushed towards the grand scribe's table, grabbing a brush with a shaking hand and pulling out a scroll of imperial yellow silk. With frantic strokes, he began to write.
Minutes later, he returned, holding the scroll aloft with both hands as he knelt once more before Lu Feng. "I, the unworthy, have merely kept the Dragon Throne warm for the True Dragon's return!" he cried, his voice breaking with a sob of pure relief. "The Imperial Mandate has been a sham! The true heir, Prince Lu Feng, has returned to reclaim what is rightfully his! I hereby abdicate and beg the true Son of Heaven to ascend the throne and restore order to the realm!"
He presented the abdication edict, his head pressed firmly against the marble. The message was clear. This wasn't a coup. It was a restoration.
The court held its breath. Every official, every general, every servant waited.
Lu Feng took the scroll. He did not read it. He simply let it fall from his fingers. He turned and began to walk towards the nine-stepped dais, towards the Dragon Throne that had cost his father his life.
Each step was a thunderclap. Each step settled the fate of the empire. Each step crushed the last vestiges of rebellion and conspiracy. When he reached the top, he turned, his gaze sweeping over the sea of kneeling figures. He didn't sit. He merely stood before the throne, an emperor without a crown, yet more majestic than any who had come before.
The days that followed were a storm of change. The capital was cleansed of the Regent King's influence. The corrupt were purged. The loyal were rewarded. The entire martial world trembled. Sects that had sided with the Regent King disbanded overnight, their masters fleeing into the wilderness. The Alliance Leader of the Divine Sword Manor was found dead in his chambers, a single, almost invisible sword mark on his throat. Nobody dared to ask who delivered the judgment.
The coronation was set for the next auspicious day. It was a grand affair, the likes of which had not been seen in a thousand years.
On that day, Lu Feng stood atop the Altar of Heaven. He wore the black and gold robes of the Son of Heaven, the Imperial Seal hanging from his belt. Below him, the entire court, the royal family, and emissaries from every corner of the world and every major Martial Sect knelt in submission.
Among them, in the distance, a woman in rags watched, her face pale and gaunt. Ye Yao saw the man she had thrown away, the servant she had mocked, now standing at the apex of the world. A final, broken sob escaped her lips before she melted back into the crowd, a ghost of regret.
The Grand Eunuch, his voice booming with Inner Qi, began the proclamation. "By the Mandate of Heaven, the True Dragon has returned! All hail the new Emperor! Long may he reign!"
"Long may he reign!" The cry of tens of thousands shook the very heavens.
Lu Feng raised a hand, and silence fell instantly. The world waited for his first imperial decree. He would speak of unifying the lands, of pacifying the foreign tribes, of solidifying his rule.
His voice, calm and clear, carried across the entire capital city. "My reign begins with a single proclamation."
He paused, his gaze seeming to look past the horizon, towards a distant valley where a blind swordswoman once played a lonely tune.
"From this day forward, there is only one Empress of this realm. Her name is Xue Feng."