Starting as the heir of a marquis's mansion, I gained access to a summoning system.

News of the great victory at Frostmaple Plains was even more turbulent and intense than the tide of spiritual energy, sweeping across the entire Eastern Continent of Tianxuan with overwhelming force.

As if overnight, the endless war and bloodshed at the western horizon burned into everyone's hearts through countless horrified eyes.

The thirteen prefectures in the west completely changed their surnames.

That dark banner embroidered with a ferocious blue dragon was planted in every major town from Tianlong Mountain to Pingyang County, from Qinghai Marsh to the Jinsha River. Thirty-five sects bowed their heads, seventy-two cities changed hands, and eight million miles of territory were transformed.

All the major powers either submitted in silence or were wiped out in the flames.

But what changed hands even before that territory did was the hearts and minds of the people.

The names that followed spread throughout the eight wastelands, besides the three dragon leaders who shook the four corners of the earth—Li Chenzhou, Guan Qi, and Bai Yujing—along with a clear and youthful voice that resonated heavily on every tea table and general's desk.

"Young Dragon Head," the only one in the East.

The news reached the capital at dusk in late spring. The bronze bells under the palace eaves tinkled softly in the wind, and the setting sun cast a slanting glow on the glazed tiles, like a layer of warm blood.

In the imperial study, a teacup was broken.

Qin Muzhi sat behind the dragon desk, his fingertips hovering in mid-air, not yet falling.

On the table in front of him lay the secret report from Pingyang County, a few thin pages, yet it seemed to weigh down an entire mountain in the west.

The report came from Cao Zhengchun, the commander of the Suspended Mirror Terrace. Its contents were meticulously detailed, and every word was startling:

In the battle of Frost Maple Plain, Zen Master Qinglong was driven to the brink of despair by Li Chenzhou, the third dragon leader; Guan Qi, the fourth dragon leader, suddenly erupted, his mid-stage Ninth Heaven combat power bursting like a volcano, causing the surrounding energy to dissipate within a hundred miles.

Bai Yujing, the second-in-command, appeared before the army and with a single sword strike, effortlessly forced back the combined forces of three half-step Celestials. Then, Qinglong Temple was sealed off, and all thirty-seven sects surrendered—everything happened as quickly as if it had been wiped off a chessboard.

Qin Muzhi stared at it for a long time. So long that the twilight outside the window turned from orange-red to deep purple, so long that the water stains on the broken porcelain of the teacup dried.

He finally gently put down the secret report, his fingertip slowly tracing the surface of the paper, as if measuring the thickness of that newly acquired territory.

His voice was calm and still, like a deep, still pool, its bottom unseen. "You've subdued Li Chenzhou, Guan Qi, and Bai Yujing. Tell me, what are their cultivation levels?"

He raised his eyes, his gaze slowly falling on the figure standing with his head bowed below the steps.

Cao Zhengchun remained motionless, but lowered his voice to a whisper: “Your Majesty, the Third Dragon Leader, Li Chenzhou, should be at the peak of the ninth level of Grandmaster, just one step away from becoming a half-step Celestial. The Fourth Dragon Leader, Guan Qi, displayed strength at least at the mid-stage of the ninth level in the battle of Frost Maple Plains, and this boy’s foundation is strange, probably even higher. As for the Second Dragon Leader, Bai Yujing… he is someone who has stood at the pinnacle of the half-step Celestial realm for many years, and may break through to the Celestial realm at any time.”

Qin Muzhi tapped the table lightly with his fingertips, making three soft tapping sounds, neither fast nor slow.

"Then tell me, what level of cultivation would someone need to be to subdue someone like Bai Yujing?"

Cao Zhengchun paused for a moment, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly: "...Above the Celestial Realm. At least...having been a Celestial Realm member for many years."

The imperial study suddenly fell silent.

The stillness wasn't emptiness, but rather as if the entire palace had held its breath. The hurried footsteps of palace servants outside the window were completely swallowed up by the thick carpet and the heavy atmosphere.

Qin Muzhi suddenly smiled. The smile was extremely faint, like a ripple on the surface of water, fleeting and gone in an instant.

"Above the heavens and man."

He repeated those four words as if savoring a fruit, "I have ruled the Eastern Continent Dynasty for over a hundred years, and I have seen countless brilliant talents and countless fools who think they can overturn the world... But this person, I don't even know his name."

He slowly rose, walked around the dragon table, and headed towards the huge carved window.

A breeze drifted in through the window, ruffling the hem of his dark-colored robe.

This emperor, who had ruled the Eastern Continent for over a hundred years and was considered by the world to be merely a Grandmaster at the ninth level of the realm, stood by the window at this moment, his aura perfectly harmonious, as if he had become one with heaven and earth—the twilight on his shoulders, the wind at his fingertips, and the coolness of the golden bricks beneath his feet were all in sync with his breathing.

A celestial being. At least at the initial stage of the celestial being realm.

He hid it for over a hundred years.

Qin Muzhi stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the distant, sprawling palace eaves, the last rays of sunset swallowed by the dark blue sky. His eyes reflected the rolling clouds, his voice detached and otherworldly:

"Reveal my imperial edict."

Cao Zhengchun immediately bowed, his hand clenching slightly in his sleeve.

"The Suspended Mirror Platform will continue to monitor the Azure Dragon Society's affairs. However, they are not allowed to provoke trouble or initiate hostilities."

Qin Muzhi paused, as if weighing the weight of his words, "The taxes of the thirteen western prefectures... shall still be collected. They occupy territory, not the imperial court's tax revenue. As long as the silver goes into the national treasury, I do not care for the future who lives in the west."

"I obey your decree."

"in addition--"

Qin Muzhi suddenly turned around, his gaze falling on Cao Zhengchun's face. That single glance, though not intense, sent a chill down the spine of the veteran minister who had been in charge of the Suspended Mirror Platform for many years. "Get the Zhenfu Division and the Embroidered Uniform Guard moving as well. I want three pairs of eyes watching the west."

Cao Zhengchun's eyes flickered slightly, and his voice held a barely perceptible hint of probing: "Your Majesty... do you suspect that I alone have failed to take adequate care of things?"

Qin Muzhi suddenly smiled. His smile was warm and kind, like an elder looking at a carefully nurtured junior: "I have no doubts about anyone."

He walked back behind his desk, sat down again, casually picked up the secret report from earlier, smoothed out the edges, and said in a nonchalant tone, "I just like to—watch a few more moves of the game."

He lowered his eyes and slowly closed the secret report. His fingertips lingered for a moment on the four characters "Eastern Only I".

Cao Zhengchun said no more, bowed deeply, and silently withdrew.

The door to the imperial study closed, and the heavy brass lock clicked shut.

Only Qin Muzhi remained in the hall. He sat in the dim candlelight, half his face bathed in warm light and half in shadow. He picked up an unbroken teacup from the corner of the table, took a sip of the now-cold tea, and looked up again at the deepening night outside the window.

"A golden age... Ha."

He set down his teacup and gently tapped the windowpane with his fingertips, the crisp sound echoing in the empty hall.

"The spiritual energy tide has erupted in full force, and the opportunity for a connection between heaven and man has emerged... Even those barbarians in the north have produced half-step heaven-mans. I have been emperor for over a hundred years and have never seen such a lively scene."

He turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on the huge map of the territory on the north wall of the imperial study.

On the map, the thirteen prefectures in the west had just been faintly circled with a vermilion pen, while on the long defensive line of the northern border, a small black token was stuck in the ground—with three words written on it: Marquis of Weeping Blood.

Qin Muzhi stared at those three words for a long time, a subtle, enigmatic smile slowly curving his lips.

"Weeping Blood Marquis, oh Weeping Blood Marquis..."

His voice was so low it was as if he were talking to himself, or perhaps to the night, "Your son has stirred up such a storm in the west, and you in the north—what are you 'guarding' for me?"

He raised his hand and gently pressed his fingertip on the token, as if pressing down a chess piece that was about to move.

The candlelight flickered, and the shadow on the wall suddenly lengthened.

That eternally gentle and refined imperial face, in the flickering light and shadow, finally revealed a bottomless, cold glint belonging to a hunter.