In the Spirit Realm, time flowed on like fleeting clouds and shifting shadows.
Since the Holy Dynasty established its capital in Central Province, decades had quietly slipped away. During these decades, the landscape of the Spirit Realm had undergone profound and subtle changes.
Under Qin Ao's iron fist and Ye Fan's assistance, the Holy Dynasty continued to enforce its policy of "transforming evil into righteousness." Though the stench of blood from internal purges had yet to fully dissipate, under harsh laws and strict enforcement, order had indeed been established.
The demonic practices that once ran rampant were forcefully suppressed. Across the vast territories, common folk were able to rest and recover, and low-ranking cultivators gained a relatively stable environment for cultivation. Despite the lingering shadow of authoritarian rule, the instinct for survival led people to gradually adapt and accept.
The Holy Dynasty's existence, once a symbol of terror, slowly became an unshakable reality upon this land—like the air one breathed: not free, yet habitable.
In the southern Cloud Dream Marsh, the Immortal Spirit Valley lay as silent as a reef submerged in deep water, relying on natural barriers and an ever-improving concealment formation to remain completely hidden.
Xiao Chen, Han Yu, and the others were acutely aware of the gap in strength, pouring all their energy into cultivation. The valley's resources were stretched to their limits, supplying core members in their push for higher realms. While the outside world seethed with upheaval, within the Immortal Spirit Valley there was only day after day of bitter training, enlightenment, and the heavy pressure that permeated the very air.
They were like beasts in hibernation, retracting their claws and fangs, hoarding strength they might never have the chance to use. The Spirit Realm, as a result, had fallen into a fragile peace—unspoken yet undeniably real.
However, this fragile balance was ultimately shattered by a piece of news that no one had anticipated.
The news came not from the battlefield, nor from any conspiracy. It came from the very core of the Holy Dynasty's power—Holy Emperor Qin Ao had fallen ill.
At first, it was merely occasional fatigue and lack of energy.
Qin Ao paid it no mind. His cultivation was peerless, long immune to the extremes of heat and cold. He simply assumed it was the result of years of exhausting labor.
But as time passed, the situation did not improve—it grew steadily worse. His aura began to decline uncontrollably. His once-raven hair was quietly touched with frost, deep wrinkles crept across his dignified face, and even his battle-hardened body, which harbored terrifying power, showed signs of haggard old age.
This was no ordinary "illness."
Any knowledgeable high-ranking cultivator could see it—his life essence was withering. This was the omen of approaching mortality!
The news was kept under strict lockdown, but walls have ears. Soon, a suffocating atmosphere of impending storm spread through the upper echelons of the Holy Dynasty.
Inside the imperial bedchamber, the scent of medicinal herbs filled the air.
Qin Ao dismissed his attendants, keeping only his most trusted imperial physicians and a handful of close ministers.
The diagnosis was devastating: it was not injury or disease, but the exhaustion of his lifespan.
The demonic arts he cultivated in his early years were inherently domineering and cruel, severely overdrawing his life potential. Though he later switched to a more balanced imperial cultivation method, the foundation had already been damaged.
Coupled with his failure to break through the barrier of the Heaven-Man Realm and step into the Saint Realm, his appointed end had quietly arrived.
Surprisingly, upon learning the result, Qin Ao did not display much fear or unwillingness.
He waved away the trembling physicians and sat alone on the dragon bed, gazing at the magnificent palace outside the window, his eyes somewhat distant.
"Lifespan nearly exhausted..." he repeated in a low voice, an odd, almost relieved calm appearing on his face.
He was not originally from this world.
His soul came from a planet called Earth, where an ordinary person living to seventy or eighty was considered long-lived.
This life of his—from a mercenary king in another world, to a Demon Sovereign ruling over a domain, to founding this vast Holy Dynasty and becoming a Holy Emperor above billions—had been magnificent and tumultuous, far exceeding anything that ordinary soul from Earth could have ever imagined.
Power—he naturally coveted it.
The feeling of holding dominion over all living things, where his word became law, was enough to make anyone addicted.
But perhaps because of his unique experience of living two lives, or perhaps because of the deep-seated sense of alienation from this world that always lingered in his heart, when death truly came knocking, he instead felt an absurd sense of "this life was worth it."
"Arrived with a bang, leaving with a bang—can't say I didn't live well." Qin Ao murmured to himself, a complex smile tugging at his lips.
He began calmly arranging his affairs. The first priority was the matter of succession.
Several days later, a court assembly of the highest specification was held in the newly constructed Soaring Heaven Palace.
Qin Ao, forcing his ailing body to sit upright upon the Nine Dragon Throne, showed every sign of aging, yet his remaining authority was undiminished. His gaze swept across the civil and military officials standing in solemn array below, as well as the Ten Holy Sons and Ye Fan in the front ranks.
His voice carried obvious weakness, yet it still clearly resonated through the great hall: "We, having received the Mandate of Heaven, have governed the Eight Wastelands... However, the mandate of heaven has its limits."
"We have lately felt the weight of years and the decline of Our vigor. For the eternal foundation of the Holy Dynasty, We must establish the heir apparent early, to set the realm's heart at ease."
The hall fell deathly silent. Everyone's heart was in their throat. They all knew—the moment that would determine the future landscape of the Spirit Realm had arrived.
Qin Ao's gaze finally settled upon Ye Fan, who stood at the head of the civil officials with a respectful expression. A glimmer of imperceptible warmth and resolve flashed through his eyes.
In his heart, the Ten Holy Sons were ultimately outsiders, growing increasingly distant. Only this "son"—though without blood ties—could best carry on his will and sustain this "righteous" dynasty he had painstakingly built upon demonic foundations.
"We have decided," Qin Ao drew a deep breath and proclaimed loudly, "to adoptive son Ye Fan as Crown Prince! Should We meet with any misfortune, Crown Prince Ye Fan shall inherit the throne!"
"BOOM!"
Though many had anticipated this, when those words actually left Qin Ao's lips, it still sent a massive shockwave through the hall. Countless gazes—envious, jealous, awed, and complicated—all converged upon Ye Fan.
Ye Fan's body visibly jolted. He snapped his head up to look at Qin Ao on the dragon throne—haggard yet resolute.
In an instant, countless emotions surged through him: years of forbearance, calculated maneuvering step by step, lust for power, and a sliver of complex feeling toward this "father's love" that even he himself hadn't noticed... All of it ultimately transformed into irrepressible excitement. He strode forward, lifted his robes, and dropped to his knees heavily, his voice trembling with emotion:
"This subject-son Ye Fan, thanks the Imperial Father for his heavenly grace! This son's virtue is thin and ability meager, yet the Imperial Father does not forsake him, entrusting such weighty responsibility."
"I shall exert my utmost strength, pledge loyal devotion unto death, and never fail the Imperial Father's trust! I shall safeguard the Holy Dynasty's eternal dominion!"
He prostrated himself, his posture humble to the extreme—yet he had never been more triumphant. In this moment, it was as if he could see that supreme throne of power beckoning to him.
However, just as the investiture ceremony was about to be sealed, when the ministers were preparing to cheer and congratulate the new Crown Prince—
A calm yet remarkably clear voice suddenly rang out, like ice water poured into boiling oil:
"Your Majesty, wait!"
Everyone turned toward the voice. The speaker was a young man in a simple dao robe, with a lean face and gentle demeanor, standing among the ranks of the Ten Holy Sons.
It was the third among the Ten Holy Sons, renowned for his pill refinement and medical arts—Ling Guzi!
Qin Ao frowned slightly, clearly displeased by this abrupt interruption. But Ling Guzi held a special status, so he patiently asked, "Ling Guzi, what matter do you wish to report?"
Ling Guzi stepped forward slowly, first bowing slightly to Qin Ao, then letting his gaze sweep across the kneeling Ye Fan before returning to the emperor. He spoke with gravity: "Your Majesty, regarding your 'illness,' I have repeatedly examined the elixirs you have consumed and the qi within your body. I have made a startling discovery that I must report."
He paused, then enunciated each word like thunder crashing in everyone's ears: "Your Majesty is not simply suffering from lifespan exhaustion! You have been... poisoned with an extremely sinister and bizarre venom!"
"What? Poisoned?!"
The hall erupted in uproar! Everyone was stunned senseless by this revelation.
Qin Ao's pupils contracted sharply, his body lurching forward: "Poisoned? What kind of poison? Why has no one detected it before?"
Ling Guzi's expression was pained as he continued: "This poison is called 'Lifespan-Eroding Powder.' It is not directly lethal; rather, it silently corrodes and accelerates the consumption of the victim's life essence."
"Its symptoms are nearly identical to natural aging, making it extremely difficult to detect! The poisoner's methods are extraordinarily sophisticated."
"If not for my deep study of pill refinement and my particular attention to Your Majesty's recent physical changes, even I would never have noticed anything amiss!"
He raised his head, his gaze sweeping sharply across the assembly, before slowly and pointedly stating: "Furthermore, I infer that someone capable of administering this poison to Your Majesty over a long period and in secret must be someone who can frequently approach Your Majesty and enjoys Your Majesty's deep trust... someone close to you!"
Someone close! Deeply trusted!
These words struck like a heavy hammer, smashing into everyone's heart.
Almost simultaneously, every gaze in the hall refocused upon the still-kneeling Ye Fan, whose body had instantly gone rigid!
If Qin Ao died, who stood to benefit the most? The answer was self-evident!
Ye Fan was the adopted son, the Crown Prince about to be invested! He was Qin Ao's most trusted person!
He was also the one with the greatest access to Qin Ao's daily life! If Qin Ao died naturally, he would be the legitimate heir!
But if Qin Ao was poisoned to death... then the prime suspect, besides him, who else could it be?
In an instant, the atmosphere within the Soaring Heaven Palace shifted dramatically! The celebratory mood of the investiture vanished entirely, replaced by an icy, suspicious undercurrent brimming with murderous intent!
The calm and warmth on Qin Ao's face vanished without a trace, replaced by the outraged and coldly scrutinizing gaze of an emperor betrayed by the one he trusted most!
He stared fixedly at the kneeling, now-pale Ye Fan. Those eyes, once clouded by age, now blazed with terrifying intensity!
Ye Fan felt needles pricking his back, a chill shooting from the soles of his feet straight to the crown of his head! He opened his mouth to defend himself, but found his throat so dry that no sound would come.
Ling Guzi's accusation was too lethal, and its timing was masterfully calculated!
Amidst the deathly silence and under the weight of countless suspicious gazes, Qin Ao remained silent for a long while before finally speaking in a voice devoid of all emotion—cold beyond measure—slowly overturning his decision from moments ago:
"The matter of the Crown Prince... concerns the very foundation of the state, and requires careful deliberation."
"The matter raised by Immortal Venerable Ling Guzi shall be thoroughly investigated! Until the truth comes to light, the investiture... shall be postponed!"
"Court dismissed!"
With that, Qin Ao looked at no one further. Supported by his close attendants, he rose and somewhat unsteadily departed from the throne...
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