Now, as for his character, his conduct, his ambition.
When did you become so modest?
The implication of that sentence: you have never been a modest person.
The things you've done—which of them could a modest person have done?
And now you tell me you dare not take credit. Do you think I’ll believe that?
Gu Chengyin’s breathing did not change in the slightest.
“Your Majesty.”
He lifted his head and for the first time looked straight into Emperor Luo’s eyes.
“Your subject is not being modest. Your subject is an honest man.”
“That is why your subject simply spoke the truth.”
Emperor Luo’s eyes narrowed just slightly.
Pressure surged forward.
No spiritual power was released; no presence was exerted.
Emperor Luo was now just an ordinary man, sitting in an ordinary chair.
Wearing ordinary robes, looking at Gu Chengyin with ordinary eyes.
But that pressure was more suffocating than the oppressive force of any Golden Core cultivator.
The atmosphere in the warm chamber grew heavy once more.
Emperor Luo set down the memorial in his hand.
“Gu Chengyin.”
The emperor addressed him by his full name.
Three words, each crisp and distinct.
“Your subject is here.”
“You and Jingzhe.”
Emperor Luo’s gaze fell upon Gu Chengyin’s face.
“What is your relationship?”
The question came so abruptly that if it had been anyone else, they might have been left speechless.
But Gu Chengyin’s expression remained unchanged.
His face was as calm as stagnant water; even his eyes did not waver.
Because Gu Chengyin knew this question was coming sooner or later.
From the moment he had obtained Lin Qingyan, he knew it was inevitable.
Because Lin Qingyan was not just Jingzhe of the Celestial Masters’ Residence, not just the Golden Core invincible cultivator.
She was the younger sister of Empress Lin.
She was Emperor Luo’s sister-in-law.
Gu Chengyin was silent for a moment.
In that instant, countless images flashed through his mind.
Every single one was of Lin Qingyan.
Then Gu Chengyin spoke.
“Your Majesty, your subject and your sister-in-law have lived and died together as one.”
The warm chamber fell silent.
Emperor Luo’s expression did not change.
His brows did not twitch, his eyes did not narrow, his lips did not press together.
His expression remained exactly as before, as if he had heard nothing.
But the fingers resting on the desk curled inward slightly.
Gu Chengyin let out a silent breath of relief.
Emperor Luo did not fly into a rage.
He did not slam the table.
He did not order someone to drag him out and behead him.
He only curled his fingers slightly.
That meant Lin Qingyan’s “reasoning” had had its effect.
Emperor Luo’s fingers unfurled one by one on the desk.
Like a frozen river slowly thawing in spring.
Cracks spread across the ice, and the water beneath surged through the fissures, carrying a bone-chilling cold.
“Lived and died together as one?”
Emperor Luo repeated those four words.
His voice was lower than before, low enough to sound like he was talking to himself.
Gu Chengyin did not respond.
At this moment, there was no need to respond.
The words had already been spoken—everything that needed to be said had been said, and nothing that should not have been said had been uttered.
What remained was Emperor Luo’s reaction.
Emperor Luo shifted his gaze from Gu Chengyin’s face to the window.
The window was covered in thick rice paper, hiding the view outside, leaving only a vast, pale light.
That light, set against the amber glow of the lamps, seemed particularly glaring.
Like a piece of white jade inlaid into a wall—warm to the touch but cold at heart.
“Jingzhe came to see me just now.”
Emperor Luo’s voice drifted back from the window, carrying a faint weariness.
Gu Chengyin’s expression shifted slightly—finally, they were getting to the heart of the matter.
“She explained a great many truths to me.”
Emperor Luo tapped his fingers lightly on the window frame twice, the rhythm identical to the taps he had made on the memorial earlier.
Two dull knocks, unhurried.
“Some truths I took to heart.”
“Some truths I did not.”
Gu Chengyin’s breath paused briefly.
Taken to heart.
Not taken to heart.
This was not about agreement or disagreement—it was about consideration.
It would take time to consider.
So no decision had been made yet.
And not making a decision was itself a decision.
A decision not to take a stand, to wait and see, to observe what would happen next.
“Your Majesty is wise and insightful.”
Gu Chengyin said.
Four words, as standard as if they had been copied from a court etiquette manual.
Emperor Luo turned his head and looked at Gu Chengyin again.
“Gu Chengyin.”
The emperor called his name once more.
“Your subject is here.”
“I have long known that Jingzhe likes you.”
Emperor Luo’s gaze fell upon Gu Chengyin’s face, like two swords still sheathed in their scabbards.
“But you should also know that I do not like you.”
These words were so direct they did not sound like an emperor speaking to a subject.
No metaphors, no hints, none of the courtly roundabout rhetoric.
It was a naked, unadorned expression.
Gu Chengyin’s expression still did not waver.
But in his heart, his estimation of Emperor Luo rose another notch.
For an emperor to speak such words to a subject meant one of two possibilities.
First, Emperor Luo was a tyrant, speaking his mind carelessly, without restraint.
Second, Emperor Luo was a ruler of supreme confidence.
So confident that he did not need to conceal his likes and dislikes from anyone.
So confident that even though Gu Chengyin had Lin Qingyan, the emperor could still control everything.
Emperor Luo was clearly the second type.
Gu Chengyin gave his answer.
“Your Majesty is wise and insightful.”
Emperor Luo stared at him for a while longer before finally speaking.
“I have read Cui Zhenji’s resignation memorial.”
The emperor’s voice returned to its earlier casual, flat tone.
“As for the Cabinet, I will have them draw up the draft opinion as soon as possible.”
A Cabinet draft opinion.
The emperor’s vermilion approval.
This was the standard procedure for all major personnel appointments at court.
When Emperor Luo said he would have the draft opinion expedited, it meant he would not obstruct the memorial in the process.
At least not proactively.
This was a concession.
A concession that could be withdrawn at any time, but a concession nonetheless.
Gu Chengyin knew this concession was not for him.
It was for Lin Qingyan.
“Your subject thanks Your Majesty for his grace on behalf of Minister Cui.”
The warm chamber fell silent once more.
So silent that one could hear the faint crackling of the last embers of dragon’s musk incense in the boshan censer.
One could hear the low rumble of the hypocaust beneath the glazed bricks.
One could hear the hum of Lyu Fang’s breath as he held it.
“Gu Chengyin.”
Emperor Luo finally spoke again, his voice lower and heavier than before.
“I want to ask you one thing, and you must answer truthfully.”
Gu Chengyin’s spine tensed for just an instant, then straightened again.
“Your Majesty may ask.”
Emperor Luo’s gaze rested on his face for a long time.
So long that Gu Chengyin could read much from that silence.
Emperor Luo was hesitating.
This emperor of decisive action was hesitating.
What was he hesitating about?
After a moment, the emperor finally spoke.
His voice was very low, low enough to sound like he was talking to himself.
But every word fell distinctly into Gu Chengyin’s ear.
“What exactly are your intentions toward Zhao’er?”
ut it can buy an entire year of absolutely perfect training results! Su Yu stared at his empty wallet and decisively opened up various online loan platforms. “Borrow a thousand bucks! Recharge my vitality!” Boom! His vitality broke a hundred points, shattering the limits of the human body! “Borrow ten thousand bucks! Recharge my combat skills!” Boom! A basic punching technique so common it was everywhere instantly maxed out, revealing the ultimate assassination technique of Five Elements Unity—Inner Force! When a rich kid hired assassins for a midnight ambush, aiming to break both of his legs, they instead ran headfirst into a monster—a human-shaped tyrannosaur, brimming with dragon-like vitality. With just two fingers, Su Yu snapped a steel staff reinforced with alloy. Staring at the killer’s stash of stolen cash—a staggering quarter-million dollars—he showed a corporate-sincere smile: “Thanks for the pre-exam gift pack, Mr. Zhao! I’m gonna go re-invest this!” Three days later, at the National Martial Arts College Entrance Exam, while everyone else struggled just to reach the passing line, Su Yu threw a single punch—and more than a thousand vitality points literally detonated the entire arena!
saw a female celebrity tied up and stuffed in the trunk! Little did he know, countless cameras were aimed at him at this moment - this was a new type of reality show. The first randomly selected passerby was caught in less than an hour. But when Xu Moru was selected, things started to take an unexpected turn. "Damn, this isn't how the script goes. This Xu Moru is too bold, he's not following the rules at all." "Crap, is this guy taking it seriously?" "The female celebrity has been scared to tears!"
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
