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Chapter 5 - Chapter 5: Morning Court

It wasn't just unheard of, it was outright strange.

In fact, Third Tier slaves weren't allowed to approach the central area of the Imperial Palace.

That was the personal space of the Emperor, his Empress, and concubines. It was a restricted area.

Yet, he was being summoned to attend Morning Court, a formal ritual where officials and ministers gather to report to the emperor, discuss state affairs, and receive imperial decrees.

At this point, Solaan began considering leaving the Imperial Palace. An unsettling feeling filled his chest as he hesitated following the bronze armor guards.

From the beginning, he could tell they were strong, but he couldn't estimate how strong. Solely because he couldn't sense any Neili from them.

Do the people of this world know not of Martial Arts?

He wondered.

"Come on, don't just stand there! If you're late and His Majesty is displeased with you, death is what awaits you."

One of the men turned and said.

Is there anything to fear if they do not cultivate Neili here? Let's see what this Emperor is calling me for. Perhaps it has something to do with why this body was persecuted in the first place.

Solaan exhaled lightly as he followed calmly behind the guards.

Perhaps it was arrogance. Or curiosity, Solaan didn't fear what was to come. He felt that if it came down to it, he'd be able to escape the Imperial Palace.

It has almost been 30 minutes since he began following the bronze armor guards. From afar, he could already see the central area.

A colossal structure with black walls and gold armaments. Its base was so wide that a village could probably fit into it.

There were seven pavilions built on top of this base.

Soon they began ascending a flight of stairs. At the top, they paused.

"Wait for an eunuch to come get you." One of them said and they left.

Soon enough, someone came to hide Solaan in. He didn't go through the main doors, no, but a back door.

The hall was not merely a room—it was a mountain hollowed into a palace.

Soaring over a hundred meters high, its ceiling arched like the vault of the sky, painted in crimson and gold, coiling dragons rendered in real gold leaf.

The floor was polished black jade, so reflective that it mirrored the stars painted across the ceiling—The Celestial Mandate Made Manifest.

At the center, a path of white marble, inlaid with silver constellations, led straight to the throne.

At the far end, raised upon nine ascending steps, sat the throne of the nine skies— a seat of black lacquered wood wrapped in dragon carvings and its back raised like a phoenix's wings.

As Solaan walked past pillars that looked like gigantic serpents, his mouth went dry. He had never seen luxury or architecture of this caliber.

He was certain that nothing from the world he came from could match this hall.

From the moment he stepped in, apart from the building being breathtaking, Solaan could feel dangerous auras from multiple angles.

There were so many that he felt as though he was imagining things.

But I still can't sense Neili from them. Am I being paranoid?

Closest to the throne knelt Nine Grand Ministers, on crimson silk cushions, arranged in a half circle.

Fifty paces back, in two long rows, knelt the Provincial Lords and High Mandarins, in different, but uniform colors of robes.

Along the walls stood Imperial Guards in bronze armor motionless like statues. And in the farthest corners stood the lowly attendants and slaves.

And that was where Solaan was heading.

Have I made a mistake coming here?

He wondered. The guards were one thing, but those men seated on the red cushions closest to the throne gave him eerie vibes.

Solaan even felt like they were as strong as he was at his peak. But still, he couldn't sense any Neili from anyone in this place.

Is it because my cultivation is not what it used to be, or is it something else? The people in this world might be cultivating in a different way.

Suddenly, without any announcements, the great ironwood doors groaned open.

A slow beat echoed in the room, once per ten paces.

Then he came.

The Emperor of the Nine Skies, flanked by eunuchs in white silk, with masks on their faces. None of their footsteps made any sounds as they moved.

He wore jet-black imperial robes, embroidered with nine dragons, with gold threads. With each movement he made, the dragons on his robe slithered, as though they were alive.

His crown bore twelve beaded strands that swayed as he walked, obscuring his face.

As his feet touched the white path, every soul, but the guards in the hall, dropped to their knees.

What sort of being is this?

Solaan reasoned. Every fiber of his body shook in fear of the man walking on the white path.

At this point, he knew that he would have to blend in first and then find a way to leave later. Forgetting his pride, he knelt alongside the others.

Though he was fearful of the Emperor, it wasn't to the point of being terrified. He just wanted to avoid trouble.

And then everyone bent their heads, almost touching the ground with their foreheads.

Not a breath.

Then in unison, the entire court—hundreds of voices in perfect harmony—spoke:

"Heaven's Mandate endures! The son of the sky reigns! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empire!"

They chanted this three times.

Each louder than the last.

And the echo only died when the Emperor raised his hand.

"Rise," his voice was soft, but it came with a silent thunder.

And then the Morning Court began.

As for Solaan, he kept his head low, wondering what his next move should be. He even silently reprimanded himself for being arrogant in the way he thought.

He had never seen a person with so much majesty before, nor one who had made him so fearful.

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