The roar of ten thousand voices in the banquet hall was deafening, but it was nothing compared to the howling storm in Ye Chen’s mind.
The sky-screen above the clouds continued to broadcast the damning scene across the nine prefectures. Millions of curses were directed at his name. His righteous reputation, cultivated over decades through polished smiles, silk robes, and hypocritical speeches, was completely gone.
Holy Son Ye Chen let out a sudden, jagged burst of laughter.
He ripped off his jade hair clasp, letting his long black hair scatter wildly across his shoulders. He kicked his golden throne, sending the heavy carved chair crashing off the edge of the dais into the banquet tables below.
“Fine! Look at it! All of you, open your dog eyes and look!” Ye Chen screamed, dropping every shred of his gentle, noble facade.
His eyes were bloodshot, bulging with raw, rabid malice.
“So what if I dug out her bone?!” Ye Chen roared, pointing his golden sword at the ten thousand guests below. “In the Nine Prefectures, the strong devour the weak! That is the law of the immortal path! She was a stupid peasant who cared about mortal insects, while I am destined to ascend to the Upper Realm!”
