The sword struck with a wet, final sound.

Emperor Liu Xie jerked once, his dragon robes blooming dark red across the chest. His fingers slipped from the throne's armrest. Then he slumped forward, eyes wide with the stunned look of a man who had not yet understood he was already dead.

For one terrible heartbeat the entire plaza froze.

Then the screaming began.

"Guards!" Alex roared. "Seize Murong Sheng and Xiao Wuji. They tried to kill the Emperor."

Wudang disciples poured from the side chambers in a disciplined wave, elders at their head. Their robes snapped as they moved. Swords and qi flared in unison.

Ten of the strongest elders fanned out around Murong Sheng and Xiao Wuji, faces grim, killing intent thick in the air.

Murong Sheng's blade was still humming from the deflected strike. He stared at the fallen Emperor, then at the sword that had killed him, and something cold and ugly twisted behind his eyes.

"No," he said, voice hoarse. "It was an accident. Someone must have redirected the sword. Someone powerful-"

"Shut your mouth, murderer." The Wudang sect master, Feng Taiyi stepped forward, sword already drawn. "Surrender now. You will be questioned. Resist and we cut you down where you stand."

Murong Sheng's laugh was short and ugly. "You? Ask me to surrender?” His grip tightened on his sword until the knuckles whitened. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

He exploded into motion.

Qi detonated around him in a violent storm. The ground cracked beneath his boots as he launched himself at the Wudang master with everything he had left.

The two men met in a clash that sent shockwaves rippling across the plaza. Stone flags shattered. Dust and debris flew. The watching soldiers staggered back, hands over their ears against the screaming pressure of Nascent Soul power.

Xiao Wuji did not move.

"I surrender," he said quickly, dropping his sword. It clattered on the stones. He raised his empty hands. "I had nothing to do with this. I am not the killer here."

Murong Sheng's head snapped toward him, eyes wide with disbelief and sudden, vicious rage.

"You coward,” he snarled between strikes. “You know this is their trap. They staged this fight to destroy all four of us. If we stand together we can still break out—"

"Murong Sheng!" Alex's voice rolled across the plaza again, colder than winter steel. He had descended from the platform and now stood at the edge of the circle, surrounded by Wudang guards. "You killed the Emperor. Surrender. Do it now and I will let you live long enough to speak your piece.”

Murong Sheng's blade met the Wudang master's in another thunderous impact. Sparks flew. Blood ran from a fresh cut above Murong's eye, but he did not slow.

"I will never surrender to you," he spat. "Feng Taiyi, you saw what happened. Someone with real power moved the sword's trajectory. Someone who wanted the Emperor dead and me to take the blame. You know it."

The Wudang master's face remained hard. "Everyone saw your flying sword take the Emperor's life. Everyone saw you lose control of it in the final exchange. Do not insult us by blaming shadows." His next strike drove Murong back three steps. “If you are innocent, stop fighting. Let justice take its course."

Murong Sheng's chest heaved. Sweat and blood mixed on his face. His arms burned from the two brutal fights he had already endured.

The final match had been meant to crown a champion, not end in regicide. Now the Emperor lay dead, and the only man left with real authority in Xia was the one standing in front of him-Bai Xiaochun.

If he stopped now, he would never leave this plaza alive. Bai Xiaochun needed a scapegoat.

The public needed someone to hang for the Emperor's death. Murong Sheng was already the perfect candidate-ambitious, proud, the former head of the old Murim Alliance.

They would parade his execution and call it justice.

He had seconds to decide.

Murong Sheng's qi surged again, wild and desperate. He had no strength left for a long battle, but he still had enough for one last, all-consuming strike.

Enough, perhaps, to carve a path through the men surrounding him and vanish into the chaos.

“I will not die for your schemes,” he roared. “I will kill every last one of you and walk out of here on my own terms."

He poured everything he had left into his sword. The air around him warped. The ground trembled.

The Wudang elders braced as the full weight of a cornered Nascent Soul cultivator prepared to explode outward.

Murong Sheng's eyes burned with the terrible clarity of a man who knew he had already lost everything that mattered.

He attacked.

Alex rose from the chaos, sword already in his hand.

"Since you refuse to surrender, I will take your head."

Murong Sheng never saw it coming.

His full attention was locked on Feng Taiyi, the Wudang sect master. The two men traded blows in a blur of steel and qi, each strike ringing like thunder.

Alex vanished.

One instant he stood at the edge of the circle. The next he was behind Murong Sheng, the Wudang Limitless Sword a silver blur in the dying light.

There was no dramatic flourish. No shouted technique. Only a single, clean swing. The blade passed through Murong Sheng's neck as if the flesh offered no resistance at all.

For a fraction of a second Murong's body remained upright, sword still raised. Then the head toppled forward and struck the stones with a dull, wet sound. The body followed, collapsing in a heap of robes and blood.

The plaza went silent.

Even the wind seemed to stop.

Alex stood over the corpse, sword lowered, white robes untouched by the blood that now spread across the broken flagstones.

He turned to the three remaining cultivators still standing in the circle. “Zhan Tianba. Xiao Wuji. Ling Fengxian. If you had nothing to do with the Emperor's death, surrender now. Cooperate, and once the truth is known you will be released."

Zhan Tianba's scarred face was pale beneath the blood and dust. "You're putting us in prison?"

“No,” Alex replied. "I will seal your cultivation for one week. You will remain in the guest quarters as honored guests. Nothing more."

Ling Fengxian let out a short, bitter laugh. “If the food is good, the wine better, and the women accommodating, I suppose I can endure a week of luxury."

"Done," Alex said without hesitation.

Xiao Wuji stepped closer. The movement looked casual, but it brought the three men into a tight knot with Alex at the center. Their voices dropped to a whisper only they could hear.

"We know what this was," Xiao Wuji said, eyes hard. "You used Murong Sheng to kill the Emperor. Now you take the throne. We are cultivators. We do not care who sits on it. But if you want us to play along and stay que you hader maket week worth our while. And do not actually

seal our cultivation. We will not tolerate that."

Alex met his gaze without blinking. "Then at least pretend I have. The three of you are supposed to look defeated in front of every governor and official watching right

now. Give them the show they expect. And I will give you what you want."

The three men exchanged a single glance. Calculations passed between them in silence.

"Fine," Xiao Wuji said at last.

Alex moved quickly. His fingers struck precise points along their meridians—light taps that looked devastating to anyone watching from a distance. The three cultivators staggered as if their power had truly been locked away. "Guards," Alex called, raising his voice so it carried across the plaza. "Their cultivation is sealed. Take them to the guest quarters. Treat them with the respect due to the highest-ranked cultivators in Xia. Food, wine, every comfort. Until the truth of today is known, they remain under my protection."

The guards moved in at once, forming a careful escort around the three men. Xiao Wuji, Zhan Tianba, and Ling Fengxian allowed themselves to be led away. They were not fools. They had seen the truth the moment Murong Sheng's head left his shoulders. Bai Xiaochun had moved faster than any of them could track. One instant he stood at the edge of the circle. The next, the Wudang Limitless Sword had already done its work. None of them had even registered the strike. Behind them, Murong Sheng's headless body lay cooling on the stones. Murong Sheng was their old ally. But a dead ally offered no protection. Life had always been simple for men like them. Survival first. Everything else second.

In the great hall of the Prime Minister's pavilion, the Emperor's throne stood empty.

Alex sat in the Prime Minister's seat. Eighteen governors filled the chamber, their finest robes suddenly feeling too heavy, too bright. None of them spoke. They simply watched him.

Zhuge Liang entered through the side doors and bowed once, deep and formal.

"My lord, I summoned the finest

physicians in Xia the moment the Emperor fell. They arrived within minutes. Even with the strongest restorative elixirs we possess, there was nothing to be done. Emperor Lju

e's heart was destroyed by the sword's qi in a single instant. He was dead before his body reached the floor."

A heavy silence followed.

"It is a tragedy,” Zhuge Liang continued. “But a nation cannot remain without a ruler

for even a single day. We must place a new Emperor upon the throne."

Alex looked at him. "What of the imperial bloodline?"

Zhuge Liang bowed again, lower this time. "Prime Minister, while you were in closed cultivation these past two years, Emperor Liu Xie grew fearful of his position. He ordered the deaths of every remaining member of the Liu clan. There are no heirs

left."

A shocked murmur rippled through the governors. Several exchanged glances. One older man pressed a hand to his mouth.

Alex exhaled slowly. "Then there is no imperial blood left in Xia.”

A governor stepped forward, the senior man from the eastern provinces. His voice was respectful but urgent.

"Prime Minister, if I may speak plainly. Yuan Shu once declared himself Emperor in the north. The precedent exists. The people have already seen what you can do. The provinces are stable because of you. The armies answer to you. Why not take the throne yourself?"

Alex shook his head. “I do not have the qualification."

"My lord," another governor said, stepping up beside the first. “We all know that is

not true. You have done more for Xia than any man alive. The people trust you. The sects follow you. If you do not take the throne, who will?"

"Yes, my lord," a third governor added. "The country needs a strong hand. Yours is the only one that can hold it."

The rest of the governors remained silent, but their eyes said the same thing.

Alex looked at each of them in turn.

Zhuge Liang stepped forward and bowed low.

"My lord, every citizen in Xia will

know the truth. The Emperor was murdered by Murong Sheng, a

traitor and a criminal. The thronen et

standSempty because there is no bloodline left to claim it. The governors and I are united in this.

We are asking you to take the seat, even if you are reluctant. The people need a ruler who can protect them. Please, my lord. Do this for Xia."

Alex looked at the faces around him. Eighteen governors. The most powerful men in

the empire. All of them waiting. All of them were already bowing. “Please take it, my

Lord!"

He gave a single, slow nod.

"If that is what you ask of me," he said quietly, "then I have no reason to refuse."

The ceremony was held three days later in the great square before the imperial palace.

Banners of deep crimson and gold hung from every rooftop. The air smelled of incense and fresh pine. Tens of thousands of citizens packed the streets and plazas, held back by disciplined lines of soldiers. Above them, drones hovered in perfect formation, their sleek frames catching the sunlight like silent guardians.

Alex walked the long red carpet alone.

He wore the dragon robe for the first time. Heavy silk, embroidered with coiling

golden dragons, the weight of it settling across his shoulders like a second skin. The crown had not yet been placed on his head. That would come at the final step. Zhuge Liang stood at the base of the throne platform, holding the imperial seal. The eighteen governors knelt in two perfect rows on either side of the carpet. Behind them stood the leaders of every major sect that had survived the upheaval, Wudang at their head.

When Alex reached the top step, he turned to face the crowd.

Zhuge Liang's voice rang out across the square, amplified by hidden arrays so every person could hear.

"By the will of the governors, the sects, and the people of Xia, Bai Xiaochun is

hereby proclaimed Emperor of Xia. May his reign bring peace to the land and safety to its people."

A roar rose from the crowd. It started low, then swelled into something raw and powerful. Men shouted. Women wept openly. Children were lifted onto shoulders so they could see. The sound rolled across the capital like thunder after a long drought. For years they had lived under fear. Conscription. Warlords. Empty bellies. Now the man who had ended the northern threat, who had turned starving provinces

green again with machines they still did not fully understand, was taking the throne.

Alex accepted the crown from Zhuge Liang's hands. He placed it on his own head without ceremony. Then he sat on the throne. The roar of the crowd grew louder.

From the upper balconies, the three top cultivators watched in silence. Xiao Wuji,

Zhan Tianba, and Ling Fengxian stood with every comfort money could buy. None of them spoke.

Below, in the square, a young mother lifted her child higher so he could see the new

Emperor. Tears streaked her face, but she was smiling.

"Long live Emperor Bai Xiaochun!"

The chant spread through the crowd like wildfire.

Alex sat motionless on the throne, the weight of the crown pressing down on him,

the weight of the empire settling into his bones.

For the first time in generations, Xia had an Emperor the people actually wanted.