He could hear the confusion in his officials, whispers echoing through the halls of his palace, the endless speculation about his motives. They believed he had acted against the godlings, that the imperial order to obstruct their path was meant to humble these divine beings, to make them uncomfortable or provoke their wrath.
But they could not have been more wrong.
Chen's actions had never been directed at the godlings.
His true target lay far deeper, the real owner of this so-called great empire.
"Owner" It was the only word that truly fit.
For the throne of the southern continent had never truly belonged to any of its emperors. Every ruler who had sat upon it, every dynasty that had claimed it, had done so under the quiet manipulation of a single, unseen hand, the one who shaped the empire's rise from behind the curtain, pulling strings.
That hand belonged to his father.
To Murmur.
Chen's jaw tightened as the name crossed his mind, the air around him seeming to chill.
