Inside the banquet hall, the decadent music abruptly vanished.
The court musicians cut off their previous piece, immediately switching to a solemn, dignified anthem for the Empress's arrival.
The cloak from the secret chamber was gone, revealing what the Empress was truly wearing tonight:
A crown of holy gold. Her blazing red hair pinned up elegantly, a deep crimson gown wrapping her tall, graceful figure, and dark red stilettos beneath.
The Empress, dragonblood flowing through her veins, was peerlessly beautiful—enough to eclipse anyone present.
Yet whenever she appeared, her majesty overshadowed her beauty. Everyone lowered their heads respectfully, even Reinhardt Rossrian—the proud Lion of the North—who bowed immediately as the Red Dragon Empress entered.
The once-arrogant heads of the Five Great Houses were no exception.
Thus, Linen, standing upright without bowing, appeared strikingly out of place.
He didn't spare the Empress even a glance, instead winking openly at Quinn in the shadows.
The Empress's eye twitched, though her expression remained neutral. Quinn, however, snorted in amusement, eyes gleaming as if she'd scored front-row seats to a great show.
Even if she didn't speak, her thoughts were obvious: Her Majesty was definitely a little jealous.
Someone was about to have a very bad day.
"Reinhardt, it's been a long time."
The Empress turned to the Duke of the North, nodding slightly.
"Twenty-seven years, Your Majesty. Since the Northern Campaign ended."
Reinhardt respectfully lowered his head, ignoring the mixture of pleading and gloating gazes around him. Unexpectedly deferential, this lion seemed to have fully submitted under the Empress's pressure.
Quinn nearly burst out laughing. Who said this old lion had all brawn and no brains? Facing an angry mother, he became shrewd instantly—refusing to meet her head-on.
Thus, the next unfortunate soul was obvious.
The Empress's gaze shifted to the Head of House Bor, who was trying to hide among the crowd.
"Bor. I hear you asked Prince Linen to arbitrate?"
The Head of House Bor hurriedly lowered his head, inwardly complaining:
I just asked His Highness moments ago—how could she have heard already?
Of course, he didn't dare ask, replying only: "Yes, Your Majesty."
But the Empress's next sentence made cold sweat instantly pour down his back.
"Hmm. I also hear you weren't satisfied with the Third Prince's ruling. Is that true?"
"If you have complaints, say them now. Let me arbitrate for you as well—how about it?"
Her voice carried its usual majesty, calm enough to be almost gentle. She even sounded consultative!
Yet House Bor's knees buckled immediately, dropping him straight to the floor.
"Your Majesty, it's just a rumor—utter nonsense! Heaven is my witness, I have no dissatisfaction whatsoever with His Highness's decision! After tonight, I'll immediately withdraw my people from the Kelin District!"
It was humiliating. Cowardly. Entirely unbecoming of a Head of one of the Five Great Houses.
Yet only Bor himself knew what he'd just felt.
When the Empress's eyes landed on him, he hadn't faced a breathtaking sovereign—he saw a massive crimson dragon baring jagged horns, grinding teeth, savoring blood.
Embarrassed?
He only regretted his parents hadn't made him shorter, so he could kneel even faster.
In fact, after seeing Bor kneel so fluidly, the Empress revealed a faint trace of displeasure.
These useless vermin—swaggering about with their "ancestral traditions" when I'm absent. Yet the moment they see me, they become spineless. I can't even find a reason to lose my temper.
Still, the Empress spoke coolly:
"No need. The Shadow Knights will assist your House in withdrawing from the Kelin District tonight. Don't trouble yourself, Head of House Bor."
At her words, not just House Bor but several other noble factions opposing the Empress felt their hearts sink.
That statement held terrifying implications.
The Shadow Knights weren't prophets. They couldn't have predicted Bor's decision and arranged a "withdrawal" in advance.
There was only one possibility:
A sweeping raid and inspection.
And with most nobles attending the Dragonblood Festival…
Countless faces paled, especially among the Five Great Houses, whose expressions darkened noticeably.
Yet the Empress behaved as though she'd mentioned something trivial, casually addressing several more officials. Most were warnings or minor punishments; only a select few received praise, usually younger nobles.
Those young nobles—men and women alike—were so exhilarated their blood seemed ready to boil. Regardless of political stance, once praised by the Empress, they appeared ready to die for her immediately.
Only Linen curled his lip in disdain.
Youthful passion truly was cheap. One mention, and they'd lay down their lives for her.
And he'd clearly seen—each time the Empress spoke, Quinn whispered a name beforehand.
Spymaster Quinn named them, and the Empress repeated it aloud.
You think that muscle-brained barbarian remembered your names?
Keep dreaming.
You might as well slap the fruit platter onto her head.
Kaya and Hysteria also received praise. Kaya remained flawless as always, and the little princess—rarely—showed her royal upbringing impeccably.
Whether it was her curtsy or her polite exchanges with the Flame Rose Emperor, everything was perfect. Even Elena and Linen, who knew her well, saw the princess in a new light.
She really is a princess. Not like a nobody like me.
Elena watched her friend, feeling both envy and genuine happiness, quietly smiling.
Though it'd be even better if, after the Empress looked away, she didn't mutter frantically, "That scared me to death, that scared me to death…"
Just then, a dignified voice sounded near Elena.
"You—are you Elena Kenway?"
"Huh?!"
Called out so suddenly, Elena startled, momentarily frozen.
Me…?
Since the Empress arrived, Elena had been quietly admiring this legendary woman—and Linen's mother.
Her beauty and majesty were mesmerizing.
But Elena never imagined the Empress would know the name of someone as insignificant as her?!
"It's fine. Don't be nervous. I don't care about that."
The Empress lifted a hand slightly, calming Elena, whose ears had turned red.
"You're… not bad. Keep it up."
Elena blanked, nodding mechanically. The Empress privately frowned.
You're certain this is the girl Linen likes? She doesn't look very bright.
Quinn's amused voice immediately echoed in her ear.
"Your Majesty has sharp eyes. But perhaps someone as smart as little brother Linen simply prefers girls who aren't too clever. Look at the princess beside her, for instance?"
The Empress glanced at clear-eyed Hysteria standing next to Elena and inwardly agreed.
Indeed. Looking at it that way, Elena seemed much sharper, and far more pleasing…
"Your dress seems… unusual?"
The Empress questioned again.
"Y-yes, Your Majesty. I… made it myself…"
Caught off guard, Elena lowered her head in shame.
Obviously, Elena couldn't afford an appropriate gown for the banquet. Hysteria had generously offered her one, but certain measurements simply didn't match…
Luckily, Elena had learned basic sewing in childhood to make a living. Hurriedly, she'd modified an older dress to match Hysteria's style. From afar, it looked decent.
But upon closer inspection, it couldn't compare to master-tailored garments—something many nobles had already noticed, refraining from commenting only out of respect for Hysteria's status.
Her Majesty, however, clearly had no such hesitation, asking openly.
For those nobles already displeased by Elena, a lowborn "mud seed" mingling among them, watching the Empress finally hand down "judgment" was deeply satisfying.
"I see. It is somewhat inappropriate…"
Elena lowered her head further.
"If you're attending a banquet, you can't go without proper attire. Quinn—later, have someone take her to select a real evening gown."
"As you command."
Quinn smiled and nodded, while the other nobles in the hall looked as if they'd swallowed whole eggs.
Impossible—had Her Majesty personally gifted this mud seed a dress?
An evening gown itself wasn't particularly costly. But a gift like this was typically reserved for those close to the Empress.
Thinking about it, if Elena were truly an ordinary mud seed, how could she be so close with Princess Hysteria?
Some immediately began speculating about Elena's background.
Others frantically replayed memories, desperately recalling if they'd ever offended Elena…
"Th-thank you, Your Majesty!"
Elena was stunned by this sudden favor.
So, the rumored Red Dragon Empress was actually a benevolent, magnanimous ruler?
In reality, Her Majesty wasn't considering all that—or rather, her attention wasn't focused there.
Her relationship with Linen was tense. Helping him vent was one thing, but openly admitting she'd been overly harsh before was impossible.
Simply put: getting the Empress to apologize to Linen was out of the question. But showing kindness to those around him as subtle compensation? Effortless.
My stubborn son… This time, he should appreciate a mother's generosity.
So finally, the Empress's lips curled slightly, and she added coolly,
"Mm. Don't mention it. Just don't forget whom you should truly thank."
Whom she should truly thank?
A figure immediately appeared in Elena's mind.
The nobles understood instantly. Anyone even slightly familiar with Linen knew that Elena was part of his study group.
Clearly, Her Majesty's favor hadn't come from nowhere—it was all because of Prince Linen!
"Thank you, Your Majesty. I understand."
Satisfied by Elena's response, the Empress nodded.
She glanced sideways at Linen, saw him staring back with a completely baffled expression, and her mood improved even further.
Her son was remarkable in every aspect—except, sadly, emotional intelligence.
Even if you need help from House Mistry's daughter, you can't simply cold-shoulder the other girls like that, can you?
Thankfully, I'm here to cover for him.
At that moment, the Empress's sense of accomplishment for the night peaked.
Now, that troublesome son of mine should be satisfied, right?
Meanwhile, Linen wasn't just satisfied—he was on the verge of exploding from sheer embarrassment.
It hurt. It hurt deeply.
He'd outwitted the heads of the Five Great Houses, consistently gaining the upper hand… and yet the true damage came unexpectedly from behind!
This family was truly impossible to endure even one second longer!
Calm down. Once I complete the Holy Trial, things will improve!
Seeing the Empress finish speaking to Elena and turning toward Hysteria, Linen nearly had a heart attack.
Stop right there!
"Ahem!"
Linen coughed forcefully, drawing the Empress's attention.
"Your Majesty, it's already getting late. Could we please start the Holy Trial for Lord Morris and myself soon?"
"Little brother, do you really want to undertake the Holy Trial tonight?"
Quinn couldn't help interjecting, clearly attempting to dissuade him—only to receive Linen's firm reply.
Quinn rolled her eyes and glanced toward the Empress, only to find Her Majesty nodding approvingly.
Damn it. Two barbarians.
Quinn cursed inwardly and ceased to care.
If you want to suffer that badly, go ahead!
Either way, she'd enjoy the show.
The Holy Trial was a grand-scale trial illusion unique to the Zijinghua Empire.
Participants revealed their truest selves, confronting a predicament once faced by a former emperor of Zijinghua.
Those who succeeded could receive a dragonblood emperor's blessing, gaining the dragonblood boon that emperor had once acquired.
Every Zijinghua emperor had to face at least one Holy Trial.
Only those who passed at least one trial were eligible for the throne.
The current Empress—the Red Dragon Empress Tivira Norton—had passed seven Holy Trials, earning blessings from five former emperors, becoming a peerless ruler beneath the heavens.
What Linen and Mosiati were using now was the Holy Trial's second function: Sacred Competition.
In this mode, both parties would take turns undertaking the trial. Only the better-performing candidate passed; the other—regardless of their outcome—was deemed a failure.
These rules arose from an ancient agreement between House Norton and the Eight Great Houses.
Conflicts within the Eight Great Houses were naturally mediated by the dragonblood family.
But what about conflicts between the Eight Great Houses and the dragonblood line?
Hence, the rules for Sacred Competition emerged.
However, with royal power at its peak, it had been ages since anyone from the Eight Great Houses dared challenge the dragonblood family through the Holy Trial.
Mosiati had initially sought to provoke Linen into opening the Holy Trial without personally participating—he only needed Linen to fail.
If Linen failed his first Holy Trial, he'd immediately lose his inheritance rights.
A piece of garbage incapable of even passing one Holy Trial—what right did he have to become a dragonblood emperor?
Linen Norton would become a short-lived joke.
And the brighter his future achievements, the more shameful that joke would become.
Still, participating in the Sacred Competition wasn't entirely unacceptable to Mosiati.
He could give His Highness a taste of harsh reality, delivering both humiliation and defeat—why pass up such an opportunity?
Since the Empress had arrived, no one had dared to mention the Holy Trial again. Mosiati himself had even believed the matter would end there.
Yet since Linen himself insisted, he had no one else to blame.
As the Holy Trial's Teleportation Gate gradually opened before him, Mosiati couldn't suppress a sneer.
"Uncle Mosiati," Linen suddenly called from the side. Standing casually with arms crossed, he didn't even turn his head as he spoke.
"For ordinary people, a victorious smile is a victory song—not the trumpet signaling a charge. But for you, dear uncle… your smile is more like the circus's opening drumbeat. The gong sounds, and everyone starts laughing."
"What does Your Highness mean?"
Mosiati clearly didn't understand.
"I mean—isn't popping champagne at halftime a bit premature?"
Linen turned his head slightly, speaking calmly.
"Hmph. Then I'll be looking forward to Your Highness's performance."
Mosiati sneered again and stepped confidently into the teleportation array first.
Upon the array, the theme of this Holy Trial appeared:
TWILIGHT OF THE SACRED DRAGON
"It's the First Emperor!"
Several voices immediately cried out in shock.
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