Books from the Church?

  The old emperor’s only eye that could still roll turned sharply, as if he had thought of something. Although the stroke had left him unable to control half of his body, it did not mean his mind was also out of control. The moment his pupils dilated, they suddenly contracted into a pinpoint-sized black dot. There seemed to be some regret in his expression, but also a hint of schadenfreude and an inexplicable sense of vindictive pleasure.

  Arno could not quite understand what the old emperor was thinking. He shrugged off his outer coat and draped it over the old emperor.

  "Church books, you should understand, are full of those mystical stories. Nonsense like gods creating the world and using their teeth to create humans. I never took these stories seriously; I read them like knightly novels. I have to say, the minds of those in the Church are indeed different from ordinary people. They created a history and managed to make it sound plausible. Hmm… no, that’s not right!" Arno paused for a moment, "It’s not about making it plausible; it’s a kind of inexplicable stubbornness. Whether reasonable or not, it’s all the will of the gods, controlled by the gods."

  "In a Church record of history, I read about the prehistoric war of the gods. In the end, the gods fell and became mortals. These gods-turned-mortals still possessed power beyond that of humans; they were a different form of humanity, with strength and inheritance clearly distinct from ordinary humans."

  "These special humans eventually merged into the human world, like a drop of seawater entering a lake, no longer distinguishable from one another. But they left behind their legends, their surnames, and… bloodlines!"

  "Think about it, since they were once gods, could their bloodline be different from that of ordinary people?"

  Arno pushed the wheelchair forward slowly, showing no emotion about the earlier killings in the palace. The palace gardens were meticulously trimmed, with all snow cleared away, leaving only vibrant greenery and vigorous vitality.

  "Yesterday I visited a good friend, and when I got home, I flipped through many books but still couldn’t resolve the doubts in my heart. But today, right now, I understand." He stopped, stepped on the brake, and walked in front of the old emperor, looking at him calmly. The old emperor’s gaze also became calm, with a hint of amusement. The corners of Arno’s eyes curved upward, revealing a smile of both joy and pride. "Tell me, could the blood flowing in our veins be that of the gods?"

  The old emperor’s gaze shifted to the side, deep and unfathomable, but Arno had already obtained the answer he hoped for. He walked to the side, plucked a few newly sprouted buds, and crushed them between his fingers. The tender buds felt soft and elastic, and each squeeze released some juice, emitting a strong earthy and woody odor.

  "Regardless, I must enter the Secret Vault before leaving the Capital. I can make you a promise: as long as I do not die, I will support the legitimate ruling position of the royal family, sworn on my ancestors’ blood."

  Arno turned back, went behind the wheelchair, released the brake, and pushed the old emperor to stroll through the garden.

  At the same time, news of what had happened here was conveyed to Pars, who was reciting the ceremony proceedings. Her Majesty the Empress appeared somewhat indignant, with a strange expression. "So, Baron Arno killed all the servants in Father’s chambers?"

  "That is indeed the case." The captain of the palace guard knelt on one knee. Although the weather was still a bit cold, a layer of oily sweat oozed from his forehead, dripping to the ground along his eyebrows. Arno had truly gone too far, daring to kill indiscriminately in the palace, and what was most troublesome was that he was in charge of duty today. This was simply like wanting him dead! He did not have the courage to provoke the Golden Noble, so he could only place his hopes in Empress Pars, hoping that Her Majesty would not pursue the matter.

  And Pars acted as the captain had hoped, not caring about the deaths of the servants. She also knew that since the enthronement ceremony, with the coronation date set, the old emperor’s once somewhat lively quarters had grown quieter by the day. Previously, ministers would still report some information to the old emperor, but as Pars took over the scepter of power from the old emperor, he had completely lost his former prestige. People were happy to show themselves off in front of her, conveying their loyalty and ability.

  In essence, it was she who had made her father lose his status.

  To some extent, Her Majesty the Empress felt a little guilty. Of course, it was only a tiny, insignificant amount of guilt. Power was like a poison that tempted all living beings; when one could not obtain it, one longed for it, and once one held it in one’s hands, one would take it first regardless of the outcome.

  Having enjoyed the benefits brought by power, Pars was even less willing to let go of the power in her hands. Perhaps this was cruel and unfeeling, but born into this royal family, how could one talk about human feelings? She had not ignored the old emperor, which was already more than enough.

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  Sitting high on the throne, Pars’ clear black-and-white eyes looked downward, and the corner of her eye peripheral vision fell on the captain of the palace guard. "Do you know what they are saying?"

  The captain of the palace guard began to sweat all over, remained silent, and lowered his head deeply.

  Pars raised one hand, and her broad and magnificent sleeve robe rose like a curtain. She cocked her little finger and extended her index finger, pointing at the man below. "Useless fool, go and find out exactly what they are saying and what they are currently saying. I want to know every word and action of Arno after he entered the palace, even how loud the fart he let out was." Her eyes moved stiffly. "If you can’t figure it out, go to the suburbs and choose a plot of land for yourself."

  The captain of the palace guard withdrew. From behind the grille emerged a handsome courtier, as delicate and tender as a woman dressed as a man. He had no masculine spirit at all; instead, he was soft and delicate, with behavior more inclined to femininity. He humbly helped Pars adjust her clothes, carefully adjusting her collar, cuffs, and even her belt. Pars’ expression also softened. She gently stroked the man’s face and smiled wickedly. "Wade, why do you think these people are so annoying?"

  Wade pursed his lips and smiled faintly, raising his hand to cover Pars’ hand and gently stroking it. "That is because they envy Your Majesty’s beauty and your power. They are all thieves, stealing what belongs to you. Wealth, power, and everything else."

  Pars smiled and extended a finger, which Wade did not hesitate to take into his mouth. His face was as pink as a peach blossom as he sucked on it tightly.

  A moment later, Pars lifted her broad yellow robe, and Wade crawled under her skirts, bowing between her legs.

  As the lascivious atmosphere gradually dissipated, Wade licked his lips and straightened his attire. Pars let out a breath with a flushed face, lying lazily on the cold throne, as if she did not even have the strength to lift a finger.

  "Tell Arno I invite him to lunch." Pars stretched and sat up slightly.

  Wade was taken aback but quickly nodded. He understood his position well: he was merely the emperor’s "concubine." Lacking sacred blood, he could never truly reside in this palace, forever destined to appear only as a lover. To live better, he had to satisfy Pars and make her unable to do without him. No matter what Pars asked, he would do his best to complete it, which was why Pars favored him.

  A loyal and obedient dog was truly hard to find. Most importantly, this dog was good-looking and capable.

  Arno pushed the old emperor to wander in the garden. The old emperor, who had not left his bed since the stroke, gradually focused on these green plants. At this moment, he felt much emotion; he had almost never paid attention to the plants in these gardens before, always rushing back and forth and ignoring many things around him. He thought of many people, some still alive and some already dead, and many things, some he regretted and some that gave him pleasure.

  It seemed that every elderly person would while away their remaining time in the sun. The old emperor’s gaze gradually became peaceful and calm.

  When they returned to the old emperor’s bedroom, a little maid was deathly pale, with tears almost falling from her timid eyes. It was terrifying here—the place was terrifying, and the people were terrifying. In the blink of an eye, more than a dozen familiar people had disappeared. Although living in this palace, she already knew that the lives of servants might be less valuable than a dog raised by a prince or princess, the sudden death of so many people was still hard to accept.

  What was hard to accept was not the death itself, but that these deceased were no different from herself.

  "Baron Arno, Her Majesty requests that you remain in the palace to share lunch." The little maid’s voice trembled, and her voice was so soft that Arno could not hear clearly.

  "What?" he asked.

  The little maid knelt with a thud on the ground.

  Looking at the terrified little maid, Arno could not help but laugh. "Am I that scary?"

  The little maid covered her mouth, and a layer of mist covered her round eyes. She instinctively nodded, then quickly shook her head, and finally burst into tears with a loud wail.

  "Alright, alright, I understand. Lunch, right? Go back and tell Her Majesty Pars that I will arrive on time for the banquet."

  A surge of strength rose in the little maid’s body. She got up, turned around, and ran as fast as she could, as if Arno were a monster ready to pounce and swallow her whole.