He has been reincarnated through countless worlds, adorned with billions of mythological terms!

He reached out and picked up the jade box, placing it in his palm.

The cool touch seeped through the skin, yet it was wrapped in a faint warmth, as if something was breathing inside.

"Those old guys don't dare to interfere, and that person doesn't dare to interfere either?" he suddenly asked.

The woman in black was slightly taken aback, then realized who he was referring to—the one who had shattered his Dao heart with a single punch back then.

She shook her head, her tone unusually grave: "I don't know what happened to that guy. He suddenly disappeared six years ago, and there's been no trace of him since."

The emperor paused for a moment in his hand holding the jade box.

His expression didn't change much, but something deep in his pupils flickered slightly, like a wisp of sediment suddenly rising from the bottom of a deep pool.

He had personally experienced that person's strength.

That realm, that power, that absolute suppression that crushed everything—he still can't escape that shadow.

Could someone like that disappear?

"Missing?" He repeated the word, as if confirming something unbelievable. "Who could make him disappear?"

The woman in black remained silent for a few moments, then lowered her voice:

"have no idea."

"Those old guys in Zhongzhou are also investigating, but after six years they haven't found anything."

"That person seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving not a trace."

The hall fell silent.

He put the jade box into his pocket.

"I've taken the things," he said. "As for the turmoil... go back and tell the old folks in Zhongzhou that they don't need to worry about the Yunming Empire for now."

The woman in black glanced at him, her eyes crinkling into a half-smile: "What, found something you want to do again?"

The emperor did not answer.

He turned back to face the sky outside the window, which was gradually being brightened by the morning light.

After a long while, he whispered:

"...I just feel that maybe it's not time to give up completely yet."

The woman in black did not ask any further questions.

She turned and walked towards the palace gate, pausing at the entrance without looking back.

The youngest child, whose name few people even remember, whose mother came from a humble background, and who has never appeared in public, is just six years old this year.

The handwriting on the edict was clear, the wording was solemn and neat, and the imperial seal was clearly and completely stamped, leaving no possibility of forgery.

The princes examined it repeatedly to confirm that it was indeed written by their father, the emperor, and not a forgery.

Then, without prior arrangement, they all began sending people to inquire: What was the reaction of the court officials? What was the attitude of the cabinet? Was anyone objecting? Was anyone trying to suppress the imperial edict?

The messages that came back were increasingly grim to them.

Almost all the officials expressed their approval, including those high-ranking ministers who usually supported different princes.

Those people didn't even show much hesitation, as if they had already prepared their answers and were just waiting for the imperial edict to be issued before bowing their heads in unison.

The cabinet had no objections, and the senior ministers completed the stamping of all the seals in less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea after receiving the edict, which was incredibly efficient.

What they found most incomprehensible was that all the core advisors and confidants who had openly or secretly supported the Second Prince, Seventh Prince, and Thirteenth Prince fell silent after the edict was issued.

No one stood up to say "it's inappropriate," no one questioned "why not follow the order of seniority," and no one attempted to launch any form of court protest.

Even the most senior officials who usually valued etiquette and rules only glanced at the names on the edict before silently signing their names in the "agree" column.

It was as if everything had been arranged in advance.

The coronation ceremony is scheduled for three days later.

Time was tight, but preparations were exceptionally thorough.

The Ministry of Rites, the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, and the Imperial Household Department operated simultaneously. From the measurement of dragon robes to the ritual of offering sacrifices to Heaven, from the positions of officials to the order of the ceremonial guard, everything proceeded in an orderly and efficient manner. It was so fast that it did not seem like a spur-of-the-moment decision, but rather like a script that had been rehearsed long ago, just waiting for the main characters to take the stage.

Three days later, before dawn, all the lanterns inside and outside the palace were lit.

A brand-new red carpet was laid along the entire palace road from the main gate of the imperial city to the Taiji Hall, with the imperial guards standing in neat rows on both sides, their armor gleaming coldly in the morning light.

Officials, dressed in court robes, lined up according to their rank, stretching from the square in front of the palace all the way to the palace gate, a dense, silent mass.

Yun Yi stood in the dressing room of the side hall of Taiji Hall, with an old eunuch holding a dragon robe in front of him.

It was a bright yellow robe embroidered with a five-clawed dragon amidst clouds and clouds in gold thread. The robe was made of thick fabric, and the hem and cuffs were densely adorned with pearls and jade, which gleamed with a warm luster under the candlelight.

The old eunuch bowed deeply: "Your Majesty, it's almost time. This servant will assist you in changing your clothes."

Yun Yi didn't need anyone to serve him; he took the dragon robe and put it on himself, his movements swift and decisive.

The dragon robe was several sizes too big for him, with the hem trailing on the ground, but when he lifted it up slightly, it didn't look out of place at all.

He took one last look at the bronze mirror—the six-year-old child in the mirror was wearing an ill-fitting dragon robe and a slightly oversized crown. His face was childlike, but his eyes were unusually calm.

Yun Yi pushed open the door of the side hall and went out.

In the square in front of the Taiji Hall, hundreds of court officials stood in neat rows.

As soon as the bright yellow figure stepped out from the side hall, all eyes immediately turned to him.

Those gazes held curiosity, scrutiny, expectation, and also a hidden uncertainty.

However, as that small figure walked step by step up the stone steps to the platform in front of the hall, all sorts of complex gazes gradually solidified into an indescribable, almost frozen silence.