The imperial study, a warm chamber.
Fragrant aloes smoke curled gently upward as Emperor Luo reclined behind his desk of carved purple sandalwood and dragons.
In his hand, he held a memorial; his expression betrayed neither pleasure nor displeasure.
“Your Majesty.”
Lyu Fang stood three feet before the desk, head bowed low, voice barely above a whisper:
“Shangguan Yunying has resigned her post as chief lady-in-waiting. News has already spread.”
Silence stretched long through the warm chamber.
Emperor Luo did not even lift his gaze; his eyes remained fixed on the memorial.
As if what Lyu Fang reported were a trivial matter not worth his attention.
Only the right hand that held his brush paused for a fraction of a second—then resumed its calm.
He inscribed a few characters on the memorial, set the vermilion brush aside, and only then spoke.
“Gu Chengyin certainly moves fast.”
His voice was as faint and indifferent as a draft slipping through the hall, brushing past without disturbing a single leaf.
But Lyu Fang, who had served this sovereign for decades, knew well the weight beneath those placid tones.
This was not anger. Not disappointment. It was interest.
Lyu Fang felt a chill run down his spine, lowered himself even further, and ventured:
“Your Majesty… shall the edict still be sent?”
That time, Emperor Luo offered no reply.
He set down the memorial and slowly raised his eyes.
They were the eyes of a man who had witnessed countless storms of change—bottomless, unfathomable.
Like two ancient wells that had lain dormant for a thousand years, still as stone no matter how the outside world raged.
Now those eyes narrowed slightly, coming to rest on the flickering tree-shadows along the window lattice.
As if watching something. As if watching nothing at all.
Shangguan Yunying resigning her post as chief lady-in-waiting.
Emperor Luo knew better than anyone what those words carried.
Who was Shangguan Yunying?
The legitimate daughter of the Shangguan clan. The only child of Shangguan Yuan.
She had been not merely Luo Zhao’s most trusted right hand, but also the most solid bond between the Shangguan family and the Crown Prince’s faction.
As long as Shangguan Yunying remained at Luo Zhao’s side, the Shangguan family stood as the unshakeable pillar of the Crown Prince’s faction.
No matter how the Princes’ faction scrambled and schemed, they could not move that alliance by a hair.
But now she had resigned.
That bond was severed.
From this day forward, the unspoken pact between the Crown Prince’s faction and the Shangguan family had cracked wide open—a visible fissure that could not be ignored.
Luo Zhao had all but one pillar left now.
Gu Chengyin.
Emperor Luo’s fingertip tapped twice against the purple sandalwood desk, a dull, muffled sound.
This move had been ruthlessly precise.
Gu Chengyin had not laid a finger on Shangguan Yunying, nor had he fired a single impeachment at the Shangguan family in court.
And yet, he had made her resign her post of her own volition.
Willingly.
Whatever had transpired between them, Emperor Luo did not need to ask to deduce seven or eight parts of the truth.
And no matter what it was, it was proof enough of Gu Chengyin's cunning.
The trouble was—he could not yet suppress Gu Chengyin.
Not suppress. Worse: he had to support him.
The post of Minister of Rites stood vacant, originally left as a battlefield between the Princes’ faction and the Crown Prince’s faction.
But now, with Shangguan Yunying gone, the Crown Prince’s momentum would suffer a true blow.
The Princes’ faction would descend like wolves catching the scent of blood.
If Gu Chengyin were not made Minister of Rites, the Crown Prince’s faction would be crushed beneath the Princes' faction’s weight.
And Luo Zhao… must not lose.
So the Ministry of Rites had to go to Gu Chengyin. No alternative.
Knowing full well it was Gu Chengyin who forced his hand, he still had to smile and hand it over.
Such was the craft of the emperor. Such was the emperor's burden.
Yet Emperor Luo did not feel rage.
He had seen too many ambitions in his lifetime.
From his days as a prince, to his ascension, to the empire he now governed—the men he encountered had coveted wealth, power, fame, carnal pleasures.
Even those chasing the ghostly, hollow prize of eternal renown.
Some had died by the blade. Some knelt at his feet. Some still schemed in his court. Some had become dust long ago.
But Gu Chengyin was different.
He was mature in thought, ruthless in method, never miscalculating.
And, more than that—he had won the favor of Lin Qingyan.
That cold, aloof Scenery from the Heavenly Masters, the one known as Jingzhe, had actually stirred in her heart for Gu Chengyin. That alone was a miracle.
And on top of that, Gu Chengyin had induced Shangguan Yunying’s willing resignation.
Yet even so, Luo Zhao still clung to him—perhaps more than before.
In all these years, Gu Chengyin was the first to accomplish all this.
A faint movement tugged at the corner of Emperor Luo’s mouth. Not a smile. It was the bated thrill of a chess master.
After playing countless tedious, flavorless games, he had finally met an opponent who made him think again.
That sensation was one he had not felt in many years.
"Send it."
Emperor Luo finally spoke, his tone still light, as if it were a matter of no consequence.
He drew his gaze away from the shadows in the window, fixed it on the bowed Lyu Fang, and slowly finished:
"But a number of words will need to be changed."
Lyu Fang moved at once.
He strode to the side table, where an ornate box sat—carved purple sandalwood, coiled chi dragons, fine mother-of-pearl inlay of drifting clouds. One glance made clear that its treasure was anything but ordinary.
Lyu Fang opened the box, lifted out the rolled imperial decree inside with careful hands.
Holding it in both palms, he returned to stand before Emperor Luo and unrolled the decree upon the desk.
Bright-yellow brocade spread across the sandalwood surface, the characters upon it neat and solemn—written by Lyu Fang’s own hand.
The content was intricate, but the meaning was simple.
In one line: summon Gu Chengyin to be the imperial consort.
Nothing more.
This had been Emperor Luo’s original decision.
A single edict could overturn the power structure of the court.
If Lin Qingyan were not a factor, once Gu Chengyin became consort—
Who cared for the Ministry of Rites? Who would even mention the Grand Secretariat?
So long as he married Luo Zhao, there was nothing in the Great Luo he could not obtain.
Power. Position. Prestige. Even the emperor's own trust.
All of it would flood toward Gu Chengyin like a tide, unstoppable.
Luo Zhao’s position as heir would then rest upon an unshakeable mountain.
With Gu Chengyin at her side, the Princes’ faction could flail all they liked—they would raise no waves.
And besides, Luo Zhao already loved Gu Chengyin.
Giving her the man she desired while consecrating the succession: two victories for the price of one.
That had been Emperor Luo's reasoning for drafting the edict.
But to his surprise, Gu Chengyin had refused.
Not openly—that would be too crude. Instead, he had chosen a far cleverer route: he made Shangguan Yunying resign.
On its face, the move seemed to have nothing at all to do with the consort's edict. But in truth, it was a surgical interception—an extraction of the fuel from the fire.
With Shangguan Yunying gone, Emperor Luo had no choice but to prop up Gu Chengyin to steady the Board.
And once Gu Chengyin assumed the post of Minister of Rites, his hand would be stronger still.
A statesman who had seized actual power, versus a consort attached to a princess—
who was the greater prize, Gu Chengyin could tally better than anyone.
Therefore, Shangguan Yunying’s resignation was a shield raised against the summons of consort-hood.
And yet, despite all this, Emperor Luo still believed—
Gu Chengyin was not averse to becoming consort after all.
nd fell into a coma while saving his younger sister from an out-of-control car. He became a vegetable. No one knew that his consciousness had crossed into a world of cultivation. Over the course of sixty years, he began as the lowest kind of mine slave, struggling to survive amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood. By sheer chance, he eventually obtained the complete memories of a fallen Immortal King. Alchemy, medicine, formations, feng shui, physiognomy, artifact forging… Every great inheritance of the cultivation world was now his. But when he opened his eyes again, he discovered that ten full years had passed in the modern world. To pay for his treatment, his father had sold the family’s shop and house, leaving himself covered in lasting injuries and illness. His mother had cared for him day and night, and more than half of her hair had already turned white. His younger sister, who had been only fifteen back then, was now twenty-five. To help repay the family’s debts, she had been forced to lower her head and put on a smiling face in places of glittering lights and endless revelry. Only then did Chen Xuan understand that what he had lost was not merely ten years. He had lost the life his entire family was meant to have. The good news was that he had brought back the memories of an Immortal King’s entire lifetime. The bad news was that his soul had returned alone—his cultivation had not come with him. Spiritual energy was scarce, resources were depleted, and the modern world still had firearms, surveillance, capital, and laws. If he wanted to protect his family, break free from everyone’s control, and become truly invincible beneath the heavens, he would have to start all over again.
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.
s + Rent Collection Wealth】 At the start, he inherited a rundown house in the urban village from his grandfather. The house had no tenants, but the moment he was diagnosed with a terminal illness, a self-proclaimed empress from the Tianxuan Continent arrived as his first tenant. Ye Chuan soon discovered that with every new tenant moving in, not only did he receive massive daily payments, but he also obtained unique items related to their backgrounds. 【Acquired Bai Qianshuang’s related item: Tiger Strength Pill—dramatically enhances physical power!】 【Acquired Bai Qianshuang’s related item: Deer Blood Pill—significantly boosts vitality!】 …… From that day on, all sorts of bizarre tenants began appearing in the house: the empress from Tianxuan Continent, an apocalyptic sorceress from the Magic Realm, a mysterious scientific girl who fell through a spacetime rift… Every single day, he received strange, powerful items and endless money. Then one day, he suddenly realized—he had become invincible. Enough, enough! Stop giving me more!
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?!
