Liang walked through the grand, quiet halls of the Tianlan Imperial Palace.
His footsteps, which used to be light and silent, were now heavy and slow. His shoulders were bound in thick white bandages beneath his torn robes, and every step he took sent a dull, throbbing pain through his broken chest. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the cold, burning rage in his heart.
The guards along the corridors did not stop him. They bowed their heads as he passed, but Liang could see the shock and confusion in their eyes.
They could not feel any power coming from him.
To the guards, the proud, top tier genius of the Martial Palace now looked like a ghost. He was weak, his posture slightly bent, completely devoid of the golden qi that used to surround him like a shield.
Finally, the massive golden doors of the throne room were pushed open.
