Chapter 4: The Son of Heaven

High in the sky, the dragon-formed Long Yunshui looked down at Mo Wen in her palm and chuckled, "Oh, big brother, look, it really is the twilight of a dynasty, even the imperial palace is on fire."

"Someone must have spotted the celestial anomalies you caused, and seized this golden opportunity of a dynastic transition to assassinate the emperor."

"To be successfully assassinated right inside his own palace, this emperor must be a supreme good-for-nothing. Still, he's not dead yet; I can sense the individual holding the imperial mandate right down there in that palace."

"Get ready. I'm going to scatter the clouds, banish the rain, and summon the thunder. Next comes our grand entrance."

"We must strike a magnificent pose; humans eat this theatricality right up."

How did it feel to be inadvertently stripped of one's human status? But given the critical juncture, Mo Wen suppressed the retort in his heart and simply replied calmly, "I am ready."

The next moment, a dragon's roar pierced the heavens, accompanied by a torrential downpour tinged with blood-red hues.

The colors between heaven and earth dimmed, leaving only streaks of lightning akin to divine wrath, and the descending dragon from the clouds, vividly stark against the gloom.

A dragon? A dragon! A dragon!

Too stunned to pack up their street stalls or gather their laundry, every single person in the imperial capital lifted their heads, gazing up at the colossal beast that should have existed only in myths.

It slowly uncurled a massive claw, upon which stood a godlike mortal.

Separated by an unknown distance, a figure so diminutive should have been imperceptible to them, yet the divine presence of that figure was so overwhelming that every fiber of their senses compelled them to look, to comprehend, and to submit.

Even the dragon itself seemed to yield to his supreme might.

The elites of aristocratic families and seasoned generals stationed in the city—even after washing away their killing intent and condensing their battle aura, rendering them far stronger than ordinary soldiers—were plunged into utter terror.

Or rather, precisely because they could already be considered powerful, they were all the more capable of comprehending just how terrifying the entity standing upon the dragon's claw truly was.

They trembled and shook, unable to draw the weapons resting right at their sides.

What manner of fools would dare to oppose a being of such magnitude!

Mo Wen descended, and none could bar his way.

The people watched as the deity-like figure plummeted toward the imperial palace like a falling star. The trail of crimson could not be dispelled even by the thunder; instead, it grew all the more distinct amid the repeated rumblings.

The imperial guards entrusted with the duty of protecting the palace likewise beheld the godlike figure and witnessed his descent.

They should have taken action, but in the presence of that peerless overlord, they found it difficult enough just to move a single finger, let alone mount a defense. They even forgot how to breathe until a suffocating sensation gripped their hearts, forcing them to gasp for air under the threat of death. Collapsing limply from exhaustion, they watched as the surging battle aura drew step by step closer to the emperor they had sworn to protect.

Yet, alongside those who succumbed to mere instinct, there remained brave souls capable of overcoming the fear of death.

The commander of the imperial guards, personally promoted by the emperor, ran desperately. He crashed through every obstacle in his path, forgetting even how to draw breath.

Yet he could not catch up.

No matter how hard he exerted himself, and even though the walking deity advanced merely step by step, he could not catch up. He could only watch helplessly as that irresistible torrent of battle aura reached the Hall of Diligent Governance.

The emperor walked out.

He held his head high, and though his imperial robes were disheveled, they could not obscure the brilliance within his eyes.

Facing Mo Wen, he declared in a resonant voice, "I am the master of the Chenyao Dynasty, the Son of Heaven of this era!"

Mo Wen observed the emperor.

His vital energy and spirit were full and vigorous; clearly, he had not indulged excessively in the harem. The fact that he could stand firm in the face of such a formidable powerhouse spoke of extraordinary willpower. Moreover, the people around him who were forcing themselves forward against his immense pressure clearly demonstrated that he possessed the devotion of the people rather than relying merely on transactional bonds of interest.

Could it be, then, that he lacked competence and failed to govern properly?

His personal combat strength was indeed ordinary, comparable to that of an average person, protected only by a unique authority tied to his status that prevented him from being easily crushed by spiritual pressure. Yet his administrative acumen seemed remarkably high—at least, on his ride with the dragon, Mo Wen had not seen a single skeleton by the roadside.

Mo Wen truly could not fathom why Long Yunshui perceived this as the twilight of a dynasty. Perhaps he would simply have to ask the emperor himself.

"Do you know your crime?"

Mind-reading was one of the most fundamental applications of psionics. Even with Mo Wen currently restricted to Tier 1 energy levels, dealing with an emperor devoid of psionic resistance allowed him to read minds with effortless ease.

However, his mind-reading seemed rather pointless—not because he couldn't do it, but because there was no need to.

This was a man whose knowledge and action were perfectly aligned.

The emperor lowered his head humbly, almost with a sense of joyous relief: "Please, enlighten me."

He could not verify Mo Wen's identity, but he was genuinely overjoyed that someone was actually willing to come and tell him where he had gone wrong.

To know one's mistakes was to be able to correct them.

He feared neither death nor anything else; his only terror was failing to live up to his ancestors, failing the former emperor who had chosen him, and becoming a ruler who lost his nation.

Faced with an emperor whose gaze burned bright and who genuinely could not find a single fault in his own governance, Mo Wen was forced to shift his gaze to the three individuals standing behind him.

The first possessed an extremely stubborn mind. Even without psionic resistance, he managed to obstruct the deep probe of psionics purely through the resilience of his spirit; yet upon realizing what Mo Wen was doing, he lowered his mental barriers entirely.

He was the Daoist Patriarch, head of the Daoist Academy, overseeing all practitioners of the Dao throughout the realm, shouldering numerous duties such as harmonizing geomancy, suppressing demons, and developing and popularizing Daoist arts. Having just discovered the anomalies, he had intended to sacrifice others in order to evacuate the emperor, though he had been stopped.

In his eyes, the regional Daoist academies were developing in an orderly fashion. Aside from anomalies caused by the resonance between heaven and man, the realm was at peace, and the people lived and worked in contentment.

Aside from a few necessary and harsh methods, the Daoist Patriarch could be considered a gentleman, and the emperor in his eyes was likewise such a man.

The second was utterly ordinary, merely a eunuch.

In his view, the emperor was overwhelmingly brilliant, a supreme hero well-versed in the teachings of all schools of thought without ever slacking for a moment. He had possessed a virtuous reputation even in his youth, had defeated all competitors, and upon ascending the throne had proven to be an emperor through the ages who never made a single mistake and was deeply beloved by the common folk.

There was only one minor flaw: the emperor was far too amiable, which caused certain people to forget the proper boundaries of status and hierarchy.

As for the final person, he appeared to be one who handled the dirty work.

Through him, Mo Wen caught glimpses of the major aristocratic clans and powerful families spread across the Chenyao Dynasty.

The Shadow Guards patrolled every region. From their perspective, grain was currently abundant, the commoners were well-off, administrative orders flowed smoothly, and legal judgments were fair.

Faced with the true and absolute authority of the Son of Heaven, no matter how much accumulated power they held, the aristocratic families dared not act rashly, let alone do anything detrimental to the dynastic mandate.

A few gentle warnings were enough for the sensible ones to correct themselves on their own; as for the clueless ones, the Shadow Guards didn't even need to intervene before regional gentry treated them as breakers of the rules and devoured them completely, leaving no need for the Son of Heaven to personally exterminate their clans.

Any interlocking web of vested interests, once seized upon by the emperor, would be immediately shattered, ensuring that the foundational principle of appointing the capable remained unshaken.

Mo Wen felt that something must be deeply wrong. Far from being the twilight of a dynasty, not even the golden ages in his homeland's history were this utterly absurd, and certainly very few modern political systems could compare to such a transcendent regime crowned by the supreme oversight of celestial-human resonance.

Seeing that Mo Wen still had not slashed down the emperor to claim the throne, Long Yunshui secretly transmitted her voice: "What's going on? Why haven't you made your move yet?"

Mo Wen replied via psionic echo: "There's a problem. This doesn't look like the twilight of a dynasty at all."