The forty-nine days passed in silence.

Across the Desolate Heaven Empire, all celebrations had ceased.

Music disappeared from the streets.

Markets quieted.

Even cultivators restrained their movements.

On the surface, the Empire mourned.

But beneath that stillness... preparations never stopped.

For forty-nine days, blades were sharpened in the dark.

Princes and princesses made their efforts to bring in more supporters.

Schemes were woven behind closed doors.

And now, the day has arrived.

The Emperor’s funeral!

An invitation was sent to every powerhouse.

Such an invitation—no one dared to decline, nor did anyone even consider it.

Streams of figures moved toward the Imperial Capital.

Experts traveled with overwhelming auras that caused the very air to tremble.

The Imperial capital... was filled once more.

White banners hung across every street.

Black cloth draped from towering walls.

Incense burned endlessly.

A thick, solemn fragrance filled the air.

At the very center of the Imperial Palace, the grand funeral hall stood open.

It was vast and magnificent.

And yet... suffocating.

At its heart rested the Emperor’s coffin.

Crafted from ancient spirit wood.

Adorned with golden carvings of dragons.

Symbols of authority.

Symbols of power.

Yet now, all of it meant nothing.

The man within no longer ruled.

Rows upon rows of officials stood in silence.

Heads lowered.

Expressions solemn.

Behind them, the princes and princesses stood.

Dressed in mourning attire.

White robes.

Black sashes.

Only the Empress and the Queens cried openly.

Their voices echoed through the hall, filled with grief and sorrow.

The mourning hall remained steeped in solemn silence.

But that silence did not last long.

One by one... the great powers began to arrive.

Each arrival was like a storm pressing into the palace.

Heavy footsteps echoed.

Auras spread without restraint.

It was as if each faction was announcing: we are here.

And we are not to be underestimated.

The first to arrive were several mid-tier sects and aristocratic clans.

They entered in orderly formations, their elites following behind, their presence steady but restrained.

They paid their respects.

They bowed before the coffin.

Yet even then, their gazes subtly wandered—

Toward rivals.

Toward allies.

Toward the princes and princesses they supported.

They gave a slight nod to them.

Then the atmosphere shifted.

A far heavier pressure descended.

The Li Clan had arrived.

At the forefront stood Li Jianhong.

Behind him, Grand Elders followed one after another, their presence vast like towering mountains.

However, compared to before, there was a subtle difference.

Their numbers were reduced by one.

Everyone knew, the previous clash involving the Half-Qilin had cost them dearly.

Even so, what remained was more than enough to suppress most forces present.

Their arrival drew countless glances.

Some wary.

Some respectful.

Some calculating.

Not long after, another wave of pressure surged forward.

The Zhao Clan!

Zhao Wutian stepped forward, his expression calm yet domineering.

Behind him, their Grand Elders moved like a tide of overwhelming force.

More forces followed.

Sect after sect.

Clan after clan.

Each one bringing their strongest. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

The air grew heavier and more suffocating.

It was no exaggeration to say this gathering had drawn more power than even the wars against the Demonic Forces.

And most understood why.

This was not just about paying respects.

This was about their future.

And then, everything changed.

A presence descended.

The Bai Clan had arrived.

At the front was Bai Zihan.

The new Clan Leader.

The moment he stepped into the hall, countless gazes locked onto him.

Something was different about Bai Zihan.

His appearance had matured, though not drastically.

More importantly, his presence had changed completely.

It felt distant and untouchable.

No one could quite explain it—but everyone felt it.

Behind him stood Bai Ren.

And beside him, Bai Tianheng.

The former Clan Leader.

At first glance, nothing seemed unusual.

Bai Tianheng had some relationship with the Emperor, so it wasn’t strange that he would appear even if he had been in seclusion.

But to those with sharp perception—especially those in the Immortal Realm—their expressions changed.

A whisper spread.

"Look... Bai Tianheng..."

"He’s different..."

"He has entered the Immortal Realm."

Shock rippled silently.

"So he succeeded..."

"Well, it was to be expected. With the Mu Clan behind them... do you really think they lack the Heavenly Ascension Tempering Pill?"

"But now, the Bai Clan has another Immortal Realm cultivator."

A few exchanged glances.

Their thoughts shifted instantly.

The Bai Clan had grown even stronger.

Relief soon followed among many.

"...It seems the Bai Clan has no intention of participating in the battle for the throne."

"That’s for the best!"

"If they stepped in... everything would be over."

A quiet exhale passed through more than one faction.

Looking at how the Bai Clan had only Bai Ren and Bai Tianheng present, everyone could see they had no intention of meddling in the struggle.

Otherwise, they would have brought far more of their strongest members to intimidate others.

Because everyone knew—

If the Bai Clan chose a side...

There would be no balance left.

The Bai Alliance held more than half of the Empire’s powerhouses.

One word from them could shift the entire outcome.

Yet their stance remained unchanged.

It didn’t matter who they supported—because the Bai Clan supported no one.

Bai Zihan didn’t even mention opposing Yu Feiyan.

He knew that if she truly wanted their support, words alone would not stop it.

Better to appear uninvolved.

Better to let her lower her guard.

He then stepped forward with his father and Bai Ren.

Step by step, he advanced toward the coffin.

Soon, he stood before the Emperor’s coffin.

Up close, the figure within was clearer.

The once-mighty ruler of the Desolate Heaven Empire now lay utterly still.

His face was pale.

His aura completely extinguished.

Yet that faint trace of unwillingness still lingered between his brows.

As if even in death, he could not let go.

Bai Zihan lowered his gaze.

Then he bowed in respect.

For a man who had once stood at the peak of an empire.

When he straightened, his eyes lingered on the Emperor’s face.

He did not know what the Emperor’s final moments had been like.

Whether they were filled with regret.

With helplessness.

Or with acceptance.

But he knew what kind of person the Emperor had been while alive.

Cautious!

Always seeking balance.

Always trying to maintain stability—even if that stability was fragile.

Even if it was temporary, even if it was not true peace.

But it was still something.

In a world like this... that alone was not easy.

At the very least, the Emperor had delayed chaos.

And in doing so, he had kept countless common lives from being dragged into conflict.

That was worthy of acknowledgement.

Bai Zihan’s gaze softened slightly.

Even if the Emperor had been wary of the Bai Clan...

Even if he had sought to suppress their growing influence...

That too was understandable.

From his position, it was only natural.

There was no personal resentment in it.

Only opposing roles.

Opposing responsibilities.

In the end, he had been a ruler doing what he believed was necessary.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Not to mention, hating the dead is useless.

Bai Zihan looked once more at the faint trace of unwillingness etched upon the Emperor’s face.

"I hope you find peace in the afterlife."

He stepped back.

***

The hall gradually settled as everyone finished paying their respect to the dead Emperor.

The weight of countless gazes, countless intentions, pressed invisibly upon the space.

And then, the funeral began.

A deep, resonant bell tolled.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Each strike echoed through the vast hall, spreading outward like ripples, carrying with it the finality of an era’s end.

All voices ceased.

All movements stilled.

At the forefront, ceremonial officials stepped forward in unison.

Their expressions were solemn.

Their movements precise.

Ancient rites, passed down through generations, were carried out without the slightest deviation.

Incense was offered.

Kneeling rites were performed.

Prayers for the departed Emperor echoed softly through the hall.

On the surface... everything was dignified and orderly.

But beneath that, the undercurrents were far more telling.

Because as the ceremony progressed...

The positions of each faction became increasingly clear.

Where one stood determined everything.

Behind certain princes and princesses, powerful figures gathered.

Standing slightly closer.

Their presence alone was enough to signal allegiance.

No words needed to be spoken.

Everyone understood.

This was no longer just a funeral.

This was a silent declaration.

A choosing of sides.

Yu Qingya, the Fourth Princess, stood with composure.

Behind her, representatives from powerful sects—most notably those aligned with Frost Lily Pavilion—remained quietly present.

Cold and Elegant.

Yu Longxuan, the Seventh Prince, carried a different aura entirely.

Like a storm waiting to erupt.

Those aligned with Crimson Thunder Palace stood not far from him, their presence aggressive even in restraint.

Yu Wenzhao, the Third Prince, maintained a calm and steady demeanor.

Yet the forces behind him were anything but simple.

Most notably, the Heaven Suppression Pavilion, long known to support him.

And then, Yu Feiyan, the Ninth Princess.

Her rise had not gone unnoticed.

Behind her stood a mix unlike any other.

Those from neutral sects and independent factions.

An unpredictable force.

One that many found difficult to measure.

These four stood out clearly.

Undeniably the strongest contenders.

And yet, there was something equally important.

The absence of certain presences.

The top three clans.

None of them stood behind any prince or princess.

Not the Li Clan.

Not the Zhao Clan.

And most importantly, not the Bai Clan.

They stood apart.

Detached.

Observing.

This alone sent waves of quiet relief through many factions.

At the forefront, Yu Zidi, the First Prince.

He stood slightly ahead of the others.

Throughout the ceremony, he moved with authority.

Spoke when needed.

Directed the proceedings when required.

Everything he did was exactly what a crown prince would do.

And the court responded to him.

Ministers deferred to him naturally.

Officials awaited his instructions.

Even without the title, he was already stepping into the role. It was clear that the whole court supports the crown prince to become the new Emperor.

In terms of external clan support...

He did not appear the strongest.

But within the Imperial Court itself, his advantage was undeniable.

As the final rites continued...

As incense burned down to ash...

As the bell tolled once more, a single thought echoed silently in the hearts of all present.

The Emperor had been buried.

The battle for the throne has begun!