Tang Dynasty: Feeding Chang Le, Emperor Li Er exclaimed that she was a true immortal!

Li Shimin's footsteps echoed in the corridor.

Heavy, urgent, and oppressive.

He had driven away all the Thousand Bull Guards.

Outside the entire Chang Le Palace, only a few sentries remained on the high walls in the distance, too afraid to approach.

The cold moonlight shone on Li Shimin's profile.

His jaw was taut like a block of iron, and the muscles on his cheekbones twitched slightly.

The Emperor's Sword hung at his waist, its scabbard swaying gently with each step, emitting a soft metallic sound.

Li Junxian's secret report kept churning in his mind.

"A person with short hair and strange clothes."

"Sitting posture is composed."

"Holding a black object."

"He seems to be the one who wields heavenly lightning."

Every word was stimulating his nerves.

He is not afraid of ghosts or gods.

On the day of Xuanwu Gate, he personally shot and killed his own brother, his body splattered with blood, without even blinking.

But he was afraid of losing control.

He feared that there was a force he couldn't fathom lurking in the shadows, manipulating his most beloved daughter and, consequently, controlling the fate of the Tang Dynasty.

This feeling made him very uncomfortable.

It felt like an invisible hand was on his neck.

Not tight.

But it has always been.

We've arrived at the bedchamber.

The door was closed tightly.

A faint white light shone through the crack in the door—a steady, cold white light that didn't belong to any candlelight.

Li Shimin took a deep breath.

Then lift your foot.

boom--!

The palace door was kicked open.

The door slammed against the walls on both sides with a dull thud.

The night wind blew in.

There were no candles on the candlesticks, and no incense in the Boshan censer.

There was only one source of lighting in the sleeping quarters—on the side of the light curtain, an LED table lamp was emitting a soft white light.

Li Shimin's gaze passed over the threshold, over the magazines and cushions scattered on the floor, and over the familiar carved canopy bed—

It landed in the deepest part of the sleeping quarters.

He saw it.

A nearly invisible dividing line, like a fold in the air.

On this side of the dividing line are the mahogany floors, embroidered curtains, and screens of the Tang Dynasty.

On the other side of the dividing line—

It's another world.

It's not a description.

It is another world in the literal sense.

A strange, black chair with wheels.

A table piled high with oddly shaped objects.

A square plate that glows and is thinner than any bronze mirror.

as well as--

A person.

A young man.

He had short hair and wore a gray shirt with runes he couldn't understand printed on the front.

He was wearing a pair of dark blue pants on his lower body.

They weren't wearing boots or cloth shoes, but rather a strange white, soft-soled foot garment.

He was leaning back in that wheeled seat.

He was holding a silver metal can in his right hand.

His posture was unbelievably relaxed.

Li Shimin's pupils suddenly contracted.

This is what Li Junxian mentioned in his secret report—

That "immortal".

He was much younger than I had imagined.

He looked to be in his early twenties, a few years younger than his son, Li Chengqian.

He lacked the white hair and long beard of an immortal, the air of a Taoist immortal, and any unfathomable aura.

He's just an ordinary young man.

but--

Li Shimin's intuition told him that this person was no ordinary person.

It's anything but ordinary.

Because from the moment he entered until now, the other person hasn't even changed their sitting posture.

She didn't even look at him directly.

A man faced the Tang emperor breaking down the door with a sword, and he didn't even bother to turn his head?

Either he's crazy.

Or perhaps—they simply don't care.

"Who are you?!"

Li Shimin spoke in a stern voice, the imperial aura emanating from his tone spreading out in layers throughout the spacious bedchamber.

Such a sound could silence all the officials in the Taiji Hall.

But on the other side of the light screen, the young man only tilted his head slightly.

It's like trying to identify a slightly noisy sound.

no answer.

Li Shimin's anger instantly reached its peak.

He gripped the hilt with his right hand, his thumb pressing against the guard, and with a clang, drew the Emperor's Sword from its sheath.

The steel blade gleamed with a cold, eerie light under the white illumination.

"Father!!"

A scream came from the direction of the canopy bed.

Chang Le jumped out of bed.

She was almost asleep when the sound of the door being kicked open woke her up.

Seeing his father, fully armed and sword drawn, and the direction the sword was pointing—

Her face turned deathly pale in an instant.

"Father, no!!"

Chang Le, barefoot on the mahogany floor, stumbled and rushed toward the light screen.

She ran to the boundary wall, spread her arms, and used her slender body to block the space on Lu Ming's side.

The oversized gray sweatshirt swayed on her body, the sleeves extending beyond her wrists and covering half of her hands.

Her eyes were red-rimmed and her lips were trembling, but her feet were rooted to the spot, and she did not take a single step back.

"Father, he saved my life! The elixir, the salt, the mirror—he gave them all! He didn't harm me! I beg you, Father, to sheathe your sword!"

Li Shimin stared at his daughter's retreating figure.

Her shoulders were trembling.

But the way it stood in front of him reminded him of an animal.

A mother wolf protecting her cubs.

No, that's not right.

It's a woman protecting the person she cares about.

Li Shimin's sword tip shifted slightly at an angle.

But he did not sheathe his sword.

"Get out of the way."

"No!" Chang Le's voice was almost hoarse.

"Chang-Le." Li Shimin said, emphasizing each word.

The emperor's tone was icy cold.

But Chang Le remained stubbornly steadfast.

Her arms were trembling and her knees were weak.

But she just wouldn't let me.

The air freezes.

Li Shimin held a sword.

Chang Le is blocking the way.

On the other side of the light screen—

Lu Ming finally made a move.

He brought the silver metal can in his hand to his lips, tilted his head back, and took the last gulp.

Then squeeze it with one hand.

Click click.

The aluminum alloy can was twisted and deformed in his palm, squeezed into a flat metal disc.

The sound wasn't loud.

But in the deathly silent bedchamber, every "click" of metal deformation was crystal clear.

Lu Ming casually tossed the crushed Coke can into the trash can at his feet.

Then he turned his chair around.

This was the first time he had looked directly at Li Shimin.

Eyes facing each other.

At this moment, the two men from opposite ends of time and space made their first real eye contact.

Li Shimin saw a pair of extremely calm eyes.

There was no hostility, no fear, no fawning.

There was only one thing he had never seen on anyone's face before—

From above.

That look made him extremely uncomfortable.

Because that's the look he gives when he looks at other people.

Top-down.

Looking down from a high position.

It's like watching a wild beast trapped in a cage.

Li Shimin gritted his teeth, his anger rising to the top of his head.

"I don't care if you're human or ghost—today, I demand an answer!"

He roared and suddenly exerted force with his right arm, the Emperor's Sword slashing down towards the light screen with a sharp sword wind.

Chang Le screamed and closed her eyes.

The sword struck the light barrier.

Then--

A piercing, chilling metallic scream erupted from the point of contact.

It wasn't the sound of a sword cutting into an object.

It was the sword that was wailing.

The invisible barrier released a terrifying repulsive force the instant the Emperor's Sword struck.

That force traveled along the sword to Li Shimin's tiger's mouth, wrist, forearm, and elbow joint—

My entire right arm felt like it had been struck by a raging bull.

Li Shimin's body flew backward three steps uncontrollably.

The heels scraped against the floor, making a sharp, screeching sound.

His hands were still shaking.

No, it's not trembling.

Every muscle from fingertips to shoulders was spasming.

I'm completely numb.

It looked like he'd been struck by lightning.

He looked down at the Emperor's Sword in his hand.

There was a nick in the blade.

It's not the smooth, worn-out kind of damage.

It burst out of nowhere.

The steel blade seemed to have collided with something ten thousand times harder, shattering at the point of contact and creating a jagged notch.

The shattered steel shavings still clung to the edge of the gap, gleaming coldly in the white light.

Li Shimin stared at the gap, his breath suddenly stopping.

This sword had been with him for half his life.

It has cut through the iron armor of the Turks and cleaved through Wang Shichong's weapons, and has never broken its blade.

Now, it's hitting a layer of air—and it's collapsed.

His heart was beating at an abnormal frequency.

On the other side of the light screen—

Lu Ming remained seated in his chair.

Even his breathing rhythm remained unchanged.

He slowly picked up a large-screen tablet from the table and swiped the screen twice with his index finger.

He then flipped the tablet over so that the front was facing the light screen.

Facing towards Li Shimin.

The screen displays a paused video.

In the very center of the picture is a desolate Gobi Desert.

In the upper left corner, there was a line of small characters that Lu Ming could understand but Li Shimin could not.

Lu Ming's finger hovered above the play button.

He raised his eyelids and looked at the Tang emperor, who stood three steps away, holding a broken sword and looking horrified.

"Put the sword down."

The sound wasn't loud.

But each word seemed to fall from an extremely high place.

"sit."

He pointed to the location projected onto an empty chair on the screen—which was exactly where Chang Le's low stool was on the Tang Dynasty side.

"I'll show you something."