The doors to the Phoenix Courtyard exploded open with a crack like thunder. One of the lacquered panels slammed against the wall, knocking over a tray of tea and sending a pair of court musicians scrambling to the floor.
The eunuchs that were almost crushed by the door dropped to their knees, hoping to be out of the line of sight for the enraged man who burst into the room like an uncontrollable storm. But they didn't need to worry.
The Emperor didn't flinch. He didn't even look at them.
"I will not be made a fool!" he roared, his voice causes everyone to drop to their knees.
His boots struck the floor in unsteady, furious rhythm—half march, half storm. The carved dragons along the corridor seemed to twist in shadow as he passed, as if recoiling from his fury. His imperial robes, golden and dark crimson, flared around him like a bleeding flag.
