The Red Emperor, Yang Quan, was seated atop the dragon throne forged by the Mohist School in the Ministry of Works.
At this moment, the Red Emperor closed his eyes, first letting his mind clear.
Taking a deep breath, he felt an incomparable coolness enveloping his mind.
It was as if on a scorching summer day, he had just drunk a bowl of iced beverage. The sensation was so refreshing, with beautiful palace maids fanning him, the air filled with the fragrance of young girls. As he let go of all thoughts, he sat there in a state of absolute peace and contentment.
As the Red Emperor, I should rule the world!
To rule, how should I do it?
At this time, the Red Emperor began to ponder a question he had been considering since before he became Crown Prince.
Back then, I was King Jin, and later I was Crown Prince.
But I was never the Emperor, much less the Red Dust Immortal of the Imperial Path, so my thoughts were still quite different from what they are now.
