Changluo.
Imperial Palace.
The young Emperor is sleeping soundly on the dragon bed.
Outside, the palace maids and eunuchs stood with eyes to the nose and nose to the heart, making not a sound even in their breathing.
The deep night was silent, as always.
A wisp of green air descended, and the Emperor on the bed turned over.
...
"Where… am I?"
The Emperor, in a drowsy state, walked into a courtyard full of peach blossoms and suddenly felt a sense of familiarity gazing at the flourishing peach trees.
Lately, he had become exhausted with state affairs.
The nation had been at peace for a long time, with a thriving population and insufficient farmland, and coupled with insatiable human desires, it was akin to kindling dry wood with fire in a potentially explosive situation.
Adding fuel to the fire were emerging sects everywhere, with various unusual magicians popping up incessantly.
