The Emperor before them was over 70, his hair snow-white, his face kind and benevolent, his chin cleanly shaven and shining.
However, he appeared listless, dressed in a simple, purple damask robe with dark patterns, his body slightly twisted as he sat on the Dragon Throne.
"Is it Zhao Ling..." the Emperor sighed.
The Emperor's eyes were cloudy white, and Wei Tianyang realized he was blind.
Wei Tianyang looked over his shoulder, following Zhao Ling's gaze, sensing her smile.
The corridor leading to the throne and the hall were bathed in blood-red, with countless bodies strewn about.
Wei Tianyang could feel the stickiness of Zhao Ling's hands and the flesh remnants in her fingernails, a sensation all too familiar to him when he used his Bone Knife to kill.
"Father, it is I," Zhao Ling said in a heavy voice.
The Emperor sighed, "Zhao Ling. Do you think this makes you a ruler?"
