New Year's Eve.
The morning bells and evening drums of Shangjing sounded as usual, the red walls and gold tiles remained unchanged, and the street shops continued to open as normal.
Everything seemed just as before.
But the urgent news of King Yan's death arrived at full speed.
At the palace banquet, glasses clinked in toast, and there was jovial talk between the ruler and his subjects.
Until... Mr. Tu hurriedly entered: "Holy Emperor!"
He knelt to the ground.
"The criminal Ying Yi has… succumbed to illness in Lingnan."
The ministers were astonished.
Emperor Ying, clad in the Dragon Robe, majestic and formidable, suddenly stood upon hearing the news.
The news hadn't arrived earlier or later, but precisely at this moment, which was indeed ominous.
He seemed pained by the news, but his palms were warm, and his blood burned with excitement.
It was an uncontrollable sense of joy.
The trouble that should have been severed long ago was finally thoroughly eradicated.
