Across nine million square miles of the Azure Cloud Realm, the heavens were weeping liquid gold.
It wasn’t a destructive storm. There were no howling gale-force squalls, no ear-splitting claps of payback thunder. No hail of razor-sharp ice crystals to shatter thatched roofs. Guided by the sweeping wings of Da Peng and the gentle sky currents woven by Xiao Long, the vast canopy of aerated sky origin qi settled across the nine continents as a soft, glowing, persistent drizzle.
Each drop sparkled like a tiny jewel suspended in the twilight air. It carried the faint, intoxicating aroma of toasted chestnuts, crushed mint, and wild mountain clover.
In the royal capital of the Great Solaris Dynasty, three thousand miles west of the Grand Desolate Forest, the great iron gates of the royal castle stood wide open.
For two hundred years, the golden capital had lived in a state of unending military paranoia. High castle walls, spiked castle walls, and ruthless tax collectors had squeezed the surrounding farming provinces to the bone, hoarding low-grade spirit stones and dry grain inside the royal vaults to prepare for the certain, total droughts decreed by the Heavenly Court.
Now, Emperor Zhao Chong stood in the center of the Great Solaris Plaza. He was flanked by his eldest son, Prince Zhao Lie, and thirty royal ministers. None of them wore their ritual armor, and none carried weapons.
