Chapter Seventeen: The Imperial Palace
Lifting the purple-gold curtain, Zhou Tian glanced outside and was instantly overwhelmed by the sight. The palace walls soared a thousand feet high, constructed from bluish-gray stone bricks, each one meticulously polished with razor-sharp edges. Upon closer inspection, faint grooves could be seen carved into the surface, exuding an ancient and solemn aura that pressed down on all who approached.
Beneath the walls were three gates. The central gate was massive—nearly a hundred feet tall—with each of its twin doors spanning a hundred feet in width, tightly shut at this moment. They were made from a purple material streaked with thunder-like patterns, not carved but seemingly inherent to the substance. Two enormous golden dragon heads were sculpted upon the doors, their eyes blinking with uncanny vitality, clearly not mere carvings but infused with a mysterious power.
Flanking the main gate were smaller side gates, each only several dozen feet high, lacking the imposing grandeur and ornate details of the central gate.
Before each of the three gates stood a pair of guards, six in total. The ones at the main entrance wore golden armor, tall and imposing even their faces were shielded by golden visors. Dragon heads were embossed on their breastplates, and they wielded golden halberds whose tips gleamed in the sunlight. Their fierce aura and killing intent were palpable. The side gates were guarded by warriors in silver armor, identical in all but color to those at the main gate.
A sense of ancient majesty lingered in the air, making anyone who stood before these monumental structures feel as insignificant as an ant.
“Stop staring!”
Zhou Yi’s hand flickered with runes as he pulled Zhou Tian back.
“These walls are inscribed with countless formations, empowered by generations of mighty figures. Although their aura is subdued, gazing at them for too long will still affect your spirit.”
“I understand,” Zhou Tian nodded, turning his attention to Tianling. There was little to admire about the outer walls; the beauty beside him was far more worthy of contemplation.
By now, the carriage had reached one of the side gates. The sentries, noticing the approaching carriage, extended their halberds, silver runic chains unfurling from the tips to bar the way. They recognized the vehicle as the Prince of Qin’s conveyance, but palace protocol did not permit passage based on the carriage alone.
Zhou Yi within the carriage remained unperturbed. He tapped out a sequence of runes in the air, summoning a pale golden dragon-emblazoned token from the void.
A guard reached out to receive the token, his eyes flashing with divine light. After a brief inspection, he returned the token, withdrew his halberd, and, his blood surging, shouted,
“His Highness, the Prince of Qin, has arrived!”
The gate behind them slowly opened, and a faint, echoing chorus drifted from within:
“His Highness, the Prince of Qin, has arrived!”
“His Highness, the Prince of Qin, has arrived!”
And so on…
A man in a deep blue robe, his face deathly pale and posture slightly stooped, appeared beyond the gate. On sighting Zhou Yi’s carriage, he hurried forward and announced in a sharp, reedy voice,
“Your Highness, the Prince of Qin, His Majesty is currently in the Hall of Tranquil Heart. Please follow me…”
Zhou Yi slowly opened his eyes, their depths filled with authority. He glanced across to see Zhou Tian whispering in Tianling’s ear, making her laugh so radiantly that Zhou Yi’s eyelid twitched before he closed his eyes again.
“All right, I understand. Lead the way,” he said.
“At your command!” the attendant replied, turning to guide them onward. The purple-scaled dragon beast obediently followed.
The Hall of Tranquil Heart was located in the inner palace, where carriages were not permitted. They halted the carriage at the square outside the inner palace—a vast plaza paved with white jade, bordered by flowers that bloomed for millennia and grass that remained evergreen through the ages. At its center stood a towering jade pillar, ten thousand meters high, from which hung a golden rope. At the end of this rope was a war chariot of nine-dragon glazed glass.
Nine golden divine dragons, each nearly a thousand meters in length—though this was their shrunken form—drew the golden chariot, which floated in the air. Each dragon radiated brilliance like the midday sun, their bodies enveloped in runes and a hazy divine light that made it impossible to gaze upon them directly. The once-proud purple-scaled dragon beast, upon reaching this place, immediately became meek as a domesticated dog, slinking quietly into a corner, not daring to make a sound.