The autumn air was slightly cool.
Lu Kang stood before the Moscow Kremlin. The memories of his past seventeen years flowed through his mind like a revolving lantern. It was a very strange feeling, as if he had lived through long years in an instant without it affecting him in the slightest. It was like a dream, yet utterly real.
The seventeen-year-old boy composed himself and looked ahead.
"Mr. Lu Kang, His Majesty is waiting for you in the palace," a man in a butler's uniform said, standing tall on the steps before him. The steps led up to a magnificent palace. The high dome seemed to be paved with gold dust, shimmering under the sun. Golden pillars stood before the wide entrance.
Tall guards holding rifles stood solemnly around the pillars. They lined the steps all the way down. The wide square where Lu Kang now stood was also surrounded by soldiers.
Lu Kang nodded without expression. He adjusted the black priest's robe he was wearing and fiddled with the silver cross on his chest. This last Tsar really is as extravagant and obsessed with pomp and ceremony as the legends say, he thought.
Yes, the last Tsar, Nicholas II. Information about him flashed through Lu Kang's mind. He was undoubtedly an emperor who had left his mark on history—though it was a mark of infamy. Nicholas II was a tyrant overthrown by the revolutionaries of a new era. The Tsarist empire, already beset by internal and external troubles, would crumble under the hands of this brutal and oblivious ruler.
But that was the future. Right now, in 1912, he was still the ruler. That being the case, based on the experiences in his mind, what Lu Kang had to do next was simple. He needed to win the trust of this last Tsar. He needed to obtain the financial and material support of the sunset empire. With this, he would create his own family's system of mystery in this world—that is, a fixed magical foundation—and 'pass it down', thus fulfilling his duty as the 'head of the family' for this generation and benefiting his real self. Only by completing the inheritance could the simulation be considered a success.
Having sorted out his thoughts, Lu Kang also finished adjusting his clothes and accessories. A deep, wise-looking smile appeared on his young, handsome face. "Mr. Steward, please lead the way!"
The well-dressed butler gave a slight nod and walked ahead, ascending the steps. Lu Kang followed behind him, his eyes forward, his peripheral vision taking in the shadows to his side. The wind blew through the leaves, rustling the countless rare plants that lined the long staircase. The figures of the soldiers seemed to be enveloped in the swaying shade.
They crossed the steps and the wide, flat platform paved with tiles in front of the palace. Lu Kang finally met the ruler of Tsarist Russia—Nicholas II.
The luxury inside the palace undoubtedly surpassed that of the outside. The decorations, covered everywhere in gold leaf, were not gaudy but instead glowed with a soft, sun-like radiance. Layers of light gauze curtains fell between red, gold-trimmed carpets. Lu Kang felt the soft touch of the carpet under his shoes as he walked. The butler who had led him moved to the side, but Lu Kang's gaze was focused on the end of the red carpet.
"Greetings, Your Majesty!" he said, bowing slightly toward the seat at the end of the carpet, which symbolized the supreme power of the yet-to-collapse empire.
The person on the throne was half-hidden by a gauze curtain, only a tall, hazy shadow visible. He moved slightly upon hearing Lu Kang's voice but did not speak.
Lu Kang continued, "I wonder if Your Majesty has been feeling unwell recently? For instance, do you occasionally feel dizzy, or feel that you have forgotten some important matters or events?"
"Unwell?" The butler standing by the side looked up in confusion. He thought this 'Little Sage' who had been invited from afar must be confused. Didn't everyone in the Tsarist empire know that Nicholas II had invited numerous masters to the court to treat his youngest son, His Highness Alexei?
The figure seated on the throne behind the layers of gauze also seemed to stir. A gentle, warm breeze blew in from outside the palace, making the curtains sway. For a moment, the entire hall seemed to fall silent. Just as the butler thought the notoriously short-tempered Tsar was about to erupt—that this was just the calm before the storm—and was about to plead for mercy, he heard His Majesty speak from above. "How did you know?"
His Majesty is truly unwell?! The butler was shocked and grew even more anxious. His Majesty was ill, and he, as his personal steward, had failed to notice. This was a capital offense!
But Nicholas II clearly paid him no mind. He simply raised his hand and gently pulled aside the heavy curtains. The numerous layers of gauze slowly receded, and like dust being wiped away, the grand interior of the hall became clear and bright, losing its previous hazy quality.
Lu Kang stood tall in the center of the hall, as if he were at the center of the world, facing the supreme ruler of the empire. The last Tsar sat on the emperor's throne, his tall frame clad in a black military uniform, his chest covered in medals of honor. He was handsome, with fair skin and a thick beard. His pair of long, narrow eyes shone with a faint blue light, chilling to behold, filled with a cold majesty.
Of course, Lu Kang was not chilled. He had already prepared his speech. Simply stating Alexei's condition would make him no different from the other 'mystic masters' or doctors. So he took the opposite approach, choosing to open a breach from the Tsar himself.
"Your Majesty is ill, and seriously so!" he said, his expression confident. "You have been placed under a hypnosis spell!" In layman's terms, he had 'lost his mind'.
"A hypnosis spell?" Nicholas II was stunned. He had considered everything but had never expected this answer.
"That's right, a hypnosis spell. All of Your Majesty's symptoms are caused by it. It makes you dizzy and forgetful!" Lu Kang's face was serious. "And this kind of spell can only be effective if cast by someone who has been extremely close to you recently—"
"Extremely close? Cast...?" A look of surprise and uncertainty appeared on Nicholas II's face. He certainly didn't fully believe what Lu Kang said, but he had indeed been feeling dizzy and forgetful for the past day or two, something he had never experienced before. Plus, a stranger had indeed been close to him recently... A man of high status is often extremely concerned with his own life.
So subconsciously, Nicholas II thought of one person. A person who, also as a 'mystic master', had arrived only a few days before Lu Kang, yet whom he had trusted at first sight—and had received with great ceremony! "Grigori Rasputin?"
Before Nicholas's words had even finished, the curtains that had been drawn back suddenly fell as if time were rewinding. A faint light lit up in the air, and in the next second, specks of light and shadow transformed into countless star-like fragments—like meteors, or more like splashing water droplets—and shot toward Lu Kang!
This was the power of mystery. It was the manifestation of magecraft! But they all stopped three feet from his body, frozen in mid-air! Because Lu Kang had raised his hand, a faint light glowing between his five fingers. This was a phenomenon he had released, one that also belonged to mystery.
The Magic Circuits in his body opened. Twenty-three channels instantly and continuously outputted pure magical energy. The spell—the formula for condensing a mystic phenomenon—that had long been inscribed on his hand was instantly infused with mana and activated in a flash.
Magecraft: Dispel!
Meeting the attack—mystery and mystery collided in the unseen and dissipated!
Nicholas was stunned. The butler was stunned. Lu Kang, however, was not. He just stared fixedly at the last Tsar on the throne—or more accurately, at the figure slowly emerging from the shadows behind his chair.
"The mad monk, Rasputin. So it really is you," Lu Kang grinned. Just as I thought!
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