"Announcement: The King of Angels, His Majesty Hua Que, has passed away..."
The proclamation echoed through every corner of the Angelic Royal City, carried by ethereal messengers and broadcast systems alike. The bustling streets froze mid-motion—conversations cut off, footsteps halted, heads turned toward the nearest source of the announcement as if seeking confirmation of what they'd just heard. The bustle of the Royal City was instantly strangled, as if by an invisible hand. The old King of Angels was finally gone.
---
Deep within the magnificent palace complex, Hua Ye stood on the balcony of a side hall where his father once handled state affairs. The view here was exceptional, overlooking nearly half the Royal City—the gleaming towers, the winding thoroughfares, the distant spires where angels went about their oblivious lives. All of it, soon to be his.
Hua Ye was still dressed in casual clothes, a glass of crimson wine swirling between his fingers. There was no grief on his face. On the contrary, the corners of his mouth were curling upward uncontrollably, forming an ever-widening arc that seemed to stretch his features in ways they rarely had before. Those eyes, usually filled with lethargy and frivolity, were now brilliantly bright, brimming with the relief of finally being unshackled and... pure, unadulterated pleasure.
"Heh..." A low chuckle rolled from his throat, swallowed by the wind.
"Old man..." He looked at the swaying liquid in his glass, as if speaking to the wine itself. "In the end... you couldn't hang on long enough for the Second-Generation Gene, could you?"
Images flashed before his eyes unbidden: childhood memories of looking up at his father's mountain-like, majestic back—always turned away, always shielded by a layer of frost that never thawed for his son. He remembered the disappointment in those eyes, the way they'd slide past him to rest on worthier subjects. And his adult years, where no matter how many military exploits he achieved or how much power he consolidated, he was always an underachiever in his father's estimation—never enough, never right, never the son Hua Que had wanted.
Did he hate him? Perhaps. But more than that, it was a sense of liberation after long-term suppression—a chance to finally breathe deeply after a lifetime of holding his breath. It was a swelling feeling of: Everything you owned, everything you pursued, and everything you failed to complete... it's all mine now.
Power. Supreme power. No one could ever stand above him again, looking down with that scrutinizing, disappointed gaze. The scepter of the Angelic Civilization would fall entirely into his hands. He could indulge himself according to his own will and shape the "New Era" of his dreams—an era where Hua Ye's name would eclipse his father's, where his pleasures would become law, where no one would dare look at him with anything but adoration or fear.
He turned to Su Mari, who stood behind him in patient attendance. "Go. Tell them to mourn according to the highest protocols..."
Su Mari bowed, his face a mask of calm obedience that revealed nothing of his own thoughts. "As the King commands." He paused, adding with careful timing, "Furthermore, several ministers are waiting in the side parlor regarding... subsequent matters."
Hua Ye's lips twitched with amusement. "Let them wait. For now, we make my 'Royal Father's' funeral the most grand spectacle imaginable." The emphasis on "Royal Father" carried no warmth—only the satisfaction of a role finally played to its end.
---
During the mourning period, the Royal City was submerged in a solemn, tense atmosphere that pressed down on residents like a physical weight. All commercial activities nearly ceased, and "Youyi Village" closed its doors in accordance with the regulations—its cheerful sign now dark, its windows shuttered.
Chu Mo was happy for the leisure. He spent most of his time in the cultivation room, further refining the details of the Six Powers. Specifically, he attempted to merge the subtle guidance of dark energy with the defensive hardening of Iron Body and the explosive launch of Shave. Though progress was slow, his direction was becoming clearer with each passing day. The solitude was a gift—time to strengthen himself while the world outside rearranged itself around the death of a king.
Hua Ye indeed made the funeral as lavish as possible. Hua Que's body was placed in a crystal sarcophagus and displayed at Dawn Square, the largest gathering place in the city, for all residents to pay their final respects. Every day, representatives from different social strata offered their condolences, while epic movements praising Hua Que's achievements played continuously in the air—a soundtrack of grief that quickly became background noise to the political maneuvering beneath.
But beneath this veneer of mourning, the undercurrents surged violently.
Members of Hua Ye's inner circle were hyperactive, moving through the city like blood through eager veins. Personnel changes in key positions were already quietly brewing—lists being drafted, loyalties assessed, futures determined. Unknown observers appeared around the estates of several veteran officials who shared Hua Que's ideals or held conservative views on the Second-Generation Gene project. Shadows trailed shadows.
Within the Research Institute, the faction led by He Yan maintained absolute silence and a low profile. Their laboratories hummed with usual activity, but the faces within were drawn tight with unspoken concerns. He Xi did not appear at any public mourning events—a conspicuous absence noted by those who paid attention. Liang Bing seemed to be restrained by Kaisha, as she was also nowhere to be seen, though rumors suggested the restraint was not entirely voluntary.
On the seventh day, the formal funeral ceremony took place. Under the gaze of the entire city, Hua Que's sarcophagus was personally guided by Hua Ye into the "Eternal Hall" deep within the planet's core—the final resting place reserved only for kings. The procession was solemn, the music mournful, the faces of the gathered angels appropriately grief-stricken.
The ceremony ended with the silent closing of the massive alloy doors of the Eternal Hall. They sealed with a finality that echoed through every heart present. The last traces of the Hua Que era were entombed in history.
The Old King was dead. The New King was about to officially take the stage.
---
"Youyi Village" reopened after the seven-day hiatus. Business seemed even more explosive than before. The newly empowered young officers and nobles under Hua Ye became regulars, their loud laughter and conversations revolving around the upcoming Enthronement Ceremony. They spoke of it with the anticipation of children awaiting a festival—blind to what it truly portended.
Chu Mo continued to move among them with his practiced smile, ears filtering through the noise for useful information, cataloging names, loyalties, and weaknesses. He noticed that the faces belonging to He Yan's faction or the neutral elder officials had almost entirely vanished from his establishment—either too cautious to appear in public or deliberately avoiding places frequented by Hua Ye's supporters.
Hong Yu returned to the shop after the mourning period. On the surface, nothing seemed different—she remained gentle and efficient, greeting customers with the same warm professionalism as before. But occasionally, in a corner where no one was looking, a trace of faint exhaustion and emptiness would flicker in her eyes—a shadow that passed too quickly to be caught by most, but not by Chu Mo. He asked nothing; he simply adjusted her schedule privately, reducing her time at the front desk dealing with the fanatical Hua Ye supporters who had begun to treat the waitstaff with increasing familiarity and disrespect.
---
The night before the ceremony, Chu Mo received a formal invitation from the palace. It invited the owner of "Youyi Village," Chu Mo, as a representative of "Outstanding Contributors to the Royal City," to attend the viewing ceremony. Along with it came a set of formal wear—exquisite fabric, certainly, but with a design that was slightly ostentatious, almost gaudy in its excess. A statement piece. A label.
Chu Mo sighed as he brushed his hand over the overly shiny decorative lines on the suit. Hua Ye is trying to nail me to the pillar of being "one of their own"—a spokesperson for the era of indulgence—to show everyone where I stand. He had no choice but to accept, and even sent back a generous gift to express his "infinite loyalty and gratitude" to King Hua Ye. The performance must continue.
---
On the day of the Enthronement Ceremony, the palace and surrounding areas were cleared and placed under martial law. Only Angelic nobles, officials, and strictly screened "representatives of the people" were allowed entry. The streets leading to the palace were lined with guards in ceremonial armor, their wings half-furled, their expressions impassive.
Outside the Royal City, ordinary Angel residents who couldn't get in but still wanted to witness history crowded together in a dark mass, their buzzing discussions forming a low background hum like distant thunder. They pressed against barriers, craned their necks, and shared rumors with anyone who would listen.
Chu Mo, wearing his flamboyant suit, stood in an inconspicuous spot at the side-rear of the viewing platform. He withdrew his presence entirely, making himself small and unremarkable—a lucky merchant who was a bit stiff due to his sudden honor, nothing more. His eyes, however, missed nothing.
Below the high platform, the power players of the Royal City were arrayed according to rank like pieces on a game board. At the very front, a group of veteran officials led by He Yan wore traditional, solemn robes that seemed to belong to another age. Their faces were calm, but that calm felt exceptionally heavy against the surrounding excitement—the stillness of stones in a rushing river.
Behind them stood Hua Ye's core team. Su Mari commanded the front of the line, his long golden hair immaculate, a faint arrogance curving his handsome features into a perpetual smirk. Further back were the rising stars and generals of the various legions—young, ambitious, hungry—each one glowing with spirit and anticipation, a sharp contrast to the solemn elders in front.
Chu Mo even spotted Kaisha and Liang Bing. They stood further out, in the section representing the young noble academic faction—close enough to be present, far enough to be insignificant. Kaisha was in simple silver armor, standing straight as a spear, her golden hair fluttering in the strong wind. She gazed at the coronation platform, her eyes deep as unknown currents beneath a calm sea—watching, calculating, waiting. Liang Bing looked impatient, twisting her neck occasionally, her gaze sweeping the field with undisguised mockery that she made little effort to hide.
When the clock hit the scheduled time, a grand, oppressive horn blast sounded, drowning out all noise and vibrating through chests and bones alike. Above the palace, a guard of honor composed of the latest warships roared past in perfect formation, their engines painting light against the sky.
Hua Ye appeared.
He materialized directly at the summit of the coronation platform, emerging from a shimmer of dark energy that announced his arrival with theatrical flair. He wore a magnificent, pure black royal robe that snapped in the wind like a war banner. The wings on his back were fully unfurled, stretching wide to catch the light and the adoring gazes of the crowd. He wore his customary lazy, arrogant smile, but his eyes were sharp as blades as they scanned the crowd below—enjoying the focus, savoring the adoration, drinking in the worship of countless gazes.
His gaze didn't linger for a second on the veteran officials, passing over them as if they were silent background props—furniture to be replaced at earliest convenience. When it swept over his own followers, the arc of his smile deepened with satisfaction.
The crown, symbol of royal power, was brought out by a highly respected clan elder whose hands trembled slightly—whether from age or emotion, none could say. Hua Ye lowered his head with deliberate slowness, allowing the ancient circlet to settle upon his brow. The moment the crown touched his skin, a powerful surge of dark energy erupted from him, and golden ripples of power diffused outward with him at the center—a visible declaration of ascension.
"King Hua Ye!"
Someone was the first to shout—a planted voice, perfectly timed. Then, a mountain-shaking wave of sound erupted from Hua Ye's supporters and spread through the entire venue like wildfire.
"King Hua Ye!"
"Long live King Hua Ye!"
The roar was deafening, mixed with fanaticism and infinite longing for a new era—any era, so long as it was new. On the platform, the elder officials lowered their heads in unison, their expressions hidden. Kaisha pursed her lips tightly, a muscle jumping in her jaw. Liang Bing curled her lip and whispered something to Kaisha, who responded with a barely perceptible shake of her head—not here, not now.
Hua Ye raised both hands, pressing down with the confidence of one born to command. The boiling noise gradually subsided, replaced by expectant silence. He cleared his throat, and his voice—amplified by dark energy—reached every ear with perfect clarity.
"My subjects!"
"An old era has departed with the late King! Today, standing here, I will lead you to open a brand new chapter for the Angelic Civilization!"
He opened his arms wide as if to embrace the entire nebula—to gather all its worlds into his grasp.
"Our civilization is powerful and glorious! But the late King was too conservative, indulging in the endless search for the so-called 'essence of life,' which bound our strength and limited our joy! From this day forward, those shackles are broken!"
A murmur of approval rippled through the younger attendees.
"I announce: All military resources shall lean toward expansion and conquest! We will plant the Angelic banner in every unlit corner of the known universe! Let all civilizations tremble and submit beneath our wings!"
The military section erupted in thunderous cheers, weapons clanging against the ground in rhythmic approval, faces alight with visions of glory and plunder.
"I announce: All old laws that limit pleasure and suppress desire shall be re-evaluated and revised! Angels are born noble and deserve the most extreme pleasures and the most beautiful things! The Royal City will become the most brilliant and free paradise in the universe!"
The young nobles and merchant representatives whispered excitedly among themselves, their eyes gleaming with anticipation of pleasures previously forbidden.
"The resources of female angels will lean entirely toward male angels. Female angels need only serve the male angels well!"
The words landed like stones in still water.
Liang Bing's face contorted with fury. She started forward, mouth opening to curse, but Kaisha's hand shot out and gripped her arm with iron force, pulling her back just in time. Kaisha's brow furrowed deeper than ever before, her eyes fixed on the platform with an intensity that could cut glass.
As for those who cannot keep up with the pace of the new era, those who cling to the old ways or even harbor secret dissent..." Hua Ye's tone turned cold as winter void, his gaze sweeping over the veteran official section like shards of ice. "You had best recognize reality. My Heavenly Palace Order is not to be questioned! "
Strong. Domineering. Unabashedly focused on utility and hedonism. The entire speech was less a governing manifesto and more a declaration of conquest and indulgence—a king's permission slip for every excess he had ever desired.
The speech ended amidst another wave of even more fanatical cheering, the sound washing over the square like a physical force. Hua Ye accepted the worship with obvious pride, drinking it in like wine, and immediately announced a three-day city-wide celebration—feasting, entertainment, and the beginning of his new order.
Chu Mo quietly withdrew from the side of the platform toward a relatively quiet rest area, his movements unhurried, his expression appropriately impressed. His gaze swept over Kaisha, still standing straight in the distance like a blade in its sheath; over Liang Bing, whose expression shifted between light and shadow as she struggled against her sister's restraint; and over the frozen profile of He Yan, whose face revealed nothing but whose stillness spoke volumes.
The era of the New King had begun in the most ostentatious manner possible.
---
Just as Chu Mo prepared to leave, he caught a glimpse of Su Mari out of the corner of his eye. Su Mari had also come to the rest area and was speaking in low tones with two newly promoted officers—young, eager, hungry for favor.
Su Mari's gaze seemed to pass over Chu Mo "unintentionally"—a glance that was anything but accidental. The feminine smile on his face deepened slightly before he turned back to his conversation, as if Chu Mo were already dismissed from his attention.
Chu Mo's expression remained perfectly normal. He gave a slight nod of acknowledgment—the proper response from a merchant to a powerful official—and turned to join the departing crowd.
Behind him, Su Mari watched him leave, letting out a light chuckle to the officer beside him. In a voice only the two of them could hear, he said:
"See that? That 'Outstanding Contributor,' Boss Chu... King Hua Ye is very fond of the 'little toys' he creates. In the future, make sure to 'look after' him more. After all, those who can make the King happy are... interesting 'toys,' aren't they?"
The officer nodded knowingly, a fawning glint entering his eyes as he filed away the information for future use.
---
Chu Mo walked down the increasingly noisy streets of the Royal City, the sounds of celebration already beginning to swell around him—music, laughter, the clink of glasses. The humble smile he had worn all day had long since vanished, replaced by a calmness as deep as a stagnant pool, as still as the surface of a blade.
Toy?
He, Chu Mo, had never been anyone's toy.
And he had no intention of starting now.