The Old Emperor of this land was getting old, and as usual, he woke up early.
Yawning, he walked out of the bedroom. Standing by the door, he looked at Little Fifth in the courtyard and smiled wryly, "So, what happened in the east of the city last night, why was it so lively?"
In the middle of the night last night, a fire rose in the east of the city. The Heavenly Master of the Imperial Palace observed from the watchtower, confirming it was just a celestial fire, nothing too serious.
Indeed, compared to the night before when someone struck the top of the Golden Hall with lightning and used a chain fireball to set ablaze the willow trees that the Old Emperor's grandfather planted by the pool, a mere fire doesn't seem worth mentioning.
