The autumn day carried a slight chill.
Lu Kang stood before the Kremlin Palace in Moscow.
Memories of the past seventeen years of this life flashed through his mind like scenes on a revolving lantern—a truly wondrous sensation. It felt as if he had traversed long years in a single instant, yet it left not the slightest trace on him, like a dream, yet undeniably real.
The seventeen-year-old youth steadied himself and looked forward—
"Mr. Lu Kang, His Majesty awaits you inside the palace." An elderly man in formal butler attire stood ramrod straight on the steps.
The steps led upward to a resplendent palace.
The towering dome seemed dusted with gold powder, shimmering with jagged waves of light under the sun. Golden pillars stood before the wide doors.
Tall guards gripping rifles stood solemnly around the golden pillars, lining the steps all the way down. Even the broad square where Lu Kang now stood was encircled by soldiers.
Lu Kang nodded expressionlessly.
He adjusted the black priest's robe he wore and fiddled with the silver-white cross on his chest. In his heart he thought: this last Tsar truly lives up to the legends—extravagant and obsessed with pomp!
Yes, the last Tsar: Nicholas II.
Information about this last Tsar flashed through Lu Kang's mind. Without doubt he was a historically renowned emperor—though only for infamy.
Nicholas II was the tyrant overthrown by revolutionaries of the new era.
The already troubled Tsarist Empire, beset by internal and external crises, would collapse under this cruel yet oblivious ruler!
But that was the future. Right now, in 1912, he was still the sovereign.
Therefore, according to the experiences in his mind, what Lu Kang needed to do next was simple.
He needed to win this last Tsar's trust.
He needed to obtain the financial and material support of the twilight empire.
With that, he would create the mystical system belonging to his own family in this world—the fixed foundation of mystery—and "pass it down" to fulfill the duty of this generation's "family head," allowing his real self to reap the benefits!
Only by completing the inheritance would the simulation count as a success!
Lu Kang finished organizing his thoughts and, at the same time, finished adjusting his clothes and accessories.
A profound, wise-looking smile appeared on his young, handsome face. "Steward, please lead the way!"
The formally dressed official butler gave a slight nod and walked ahead up the steps. Lu Kang followed behind, eyes down, mind focused, his peripheral vision watching the shadows at his side. The wind rustled the forest leaves, making the countless rare plants lining both sides of the tall steps whisper.
The soldiers' figures seemed enveloped in the swaying shade.
They crossed the steps.
They also crossed the extremely flat and spacious platform paved with bricks before the palace.
Lu Kang finally met the ruler of Tsarist Russia as promised—Nicholas II.
The luxury inside the palace undoubtedly surpassed the scene outside.
Gold-leaf decorations covered every surface yet did not appear glaring; instead they emitted a soft glow like the rising sun.
Layers of light gauze curtains fell between red gold-embroidered carpets. As Lu Kang stepped on them, the soles felt soft. The leading butler moved aside, but Lu Kang's gaze focused on the farthest end of the red-carpet path—
"I greet Your Majesty!" He half-bowed toward the seat at the end of the red carpet, the symbol of the empire's supreme power that had not yet collapsed!
The figure on that seat was half-hidden behind gauze curtains, only a tall, hazy shadow visible. He stirred slightly at Lu Kang's voice but did not speak.
Lu Kang continued, "May I ask if Your Majesty has recently felt unwell? For example, occasional dizziness, or the feeling that you have forgotten certain important matters and events?"
"Unwell?" The steward standing beside him looked up in confusion. Had this "little sage" invited from afar lost his mind? Everyone in the Tsarist Empire knew that Nicholas II had invited numerous masters to the palace to treat his youngest son, Prince Alexei.
The figure seated on the throne behind the heavy curtains also seemed to move slightly.
A warm breeze blew in from outside the hall. As the curtains swayed, the entire hall fell silent for an instant.
Just as the steward feared the notoriously irritable Tsar was about to explode—this was the calm before the storm—and prepared to plead, he heard the Tsar above speak:
"How did you know?"
The Tsar truly had health issues?!
The steward was shocked and even more uneasy. As the personal steward, he had failed to notice his lord's ailment in advance—this was a capital offense!
But Nicholas II clearly had no attention to spare for the steward.
He simply raised his hand and gently pulled open the heavy curtains. Countless layers of gauze slowly receded like dust being brushed away. The spacious, magnificent hall interior became clear and bright, free of its previous haze.
Lu Kang now stood tall in the center of the hall, as if at the center of the world, facing the empire's supreme ruler. The last Tsar sat on the imperial throne, his tall figure clad in black military uniform, chest covered in honor badges. His face was handsome, skin fair, beard thick. A pair of narrow eyes gleamed with deep blue light, sending a chill through anyone who met them—cold and majestic.
Lu Kang, of course, did not feel chilled. He had prepared his words long ago.
Simply explaining Alexei's condition would make him no different from other "mysterious masters" or doctors.
So he took the opposite approach, opening the breach from the Tsar himself—
"Your Majesty is ill—and seriously so!" he said, expression confident. "You have been hypnotized!"
That is, what common folk call "losing your head."
"Hypnotism?" Nicholas II froze. No matter how he calculated, he had never expected this answer.
"Correct—hypnotism. All Your Majesty's symptoms are caused by it; it makes you dizzy and forgetful!" Lu Kang's face was serious. "Moreover, such hypnotism can only produce this effect if performed by someone who has been extremely close to you recently—"
"Extremely close? Performed…?" Surprise and uncertainty flashed across Nicholas II's face. He did not fully believe Lu Kang, yet in the past day or two he had indeed felt frequent dizziness and forgetfulness—something that had never happened before.
Plus, there really had been strangers approaching recently… People in high positions value their lives above all.
Subconsciously, Nicholas II thought of one person.
A "mysterious master" who had arrived a few days earlier than the current Lu Kang, yet the first glance had made him feel trustworthy—and who had received his grand hospitality!
"Grigori Rasputin?"
Before Nicholas's words finished, the rolled-up gauze curtains suddenly dropped as if time had rewound. A faint light flared in the air. The next second, specks of light and shadow transformed into countless star fragments—like meteors, more like splashing broken water flowers—stabbing toward Lu Kang!
This was mystical power.
It was the manifestation of magecraft!
But every speck halted three feet around Lu Kang, frozen in mid-air!
Because Lu Kang had raised his hand. A faint glow shone between his five fingers—the mystical phenomenon he had released, also belonging to mystery.
The magic circuits in his body activated. Twenty-three channels instantly poured out pure magical energy without end.
The magecraft engraved on his hand—the ritual that condensed mystical phenomena—was instantly infused with power and activated in the blink of an eye.
Magecraft · Dispel!
Meeting the attack—
Mystery clashed with mystery and vanished without trace!
Nicholas was stunned.
The steward butler was stunned.
Lu Kang, however, was not. He simply stared fixedly at the last Tsar on the throne—more precisely, at the figure slowly emerging from the shadows behind the chair—
"Demon monk Rasputin. It really is you." Lu Kang grinned. Just as expected!