The illness, it was indeed real. Secretly bringing the Space Stone with Mo Liancheng, after nearly a month of recuperation, he finally returned from the Ghost Gate.
...
Imperial Palace, Imperial Study Room.
The Emperor, in the last few months, seemed to have aged ten years overnight. Holding the secret letter, his face was gloomy. With a loud thud, he pressed the letter onto the table, "Is he really dead?" This question, within these forty-nine days, the Emperor had asked no less than ten times.
"Yes," said the Hidden Guard kneeling on the ground.
"Did he die of illness? Not poisoned, or faking death deliberately?"
"He died of illness. We also secretly sent several Imperial Physicians to examine; indeed, he was terminally ill, beyond saving."
"Hmm..." The Emperor coldly snorted, pursing his thin lips, unwilling to believe it was that simple.
But to cover it up so flawlessly is not easy either.
